Do we have free will?

Oil and charcoal on coarse linen, a wide aerial view of a vast hedge maze at dusk filling the entire frame. Tall, dark green hedges form dozens of apparent branches and choices, but most corridors end in solid, impassable walls softened by shadow; only one continuous pale dirt path winds unbroken from the entrance at the lower edge to the opening at the far upper edge. In the exact center, a solitary small man in a rust-red coat stands at a junction with both arms lifted in earnest deliberation, his long shadow pointing down the one open route, a single line of his own footprints already pressed into the dirt behind him and continuing, faint but unmistakable, ahead of him where he has not yet walked. Cold blue twilight over the hedges, a last warm amber light catching his coat and the pale path, visible brushstrokes, scraped paint, no text.