Hedges and puzzle books
Crete’s labyrinth in the story is a procession: one path, a center, a thread home. Cathedral floors kept that idea. Hampton Court’s hedge is the other object — junctions tall enough to lose you. That is the maze this site means.
Nineteenth-century puzzle books made the garden portable. Start, exit, branches that waste a pencil. Maze’s play carver builds that contract on purpose: perfect corridors, shareable seed, optional paper from the print desk.
Browser mazes inherit the pencil habit more than the hedge. You see the plan from above. Fog puts a little of the hedge back — limited vision, same walls underneath.