Reality is bricks and clothes and streams and dirt and smoke.
Will freedom fit into those clothes? Will the bricks detach and greet the dirt? Will the smoke say “hello” and become one with the stream? In the realm where all things are possible, all of it will happen. Where the brightest of greens will hover over transparent grass wondering if the two have met before.
And why should the universe not be pliable enough to accommodate every whim? It is large enough. And by extension, pliable enough. So it follows.
And so the greens will wonder, the smoke will become one with the stream, and the bricks will be busily detaching themselves eager to greet the dirt. But physics is not content to sit it out so quietly. It too has a plan, and like a boring headmaster insists that it be followed. So it follows.
And bricks and clothes and streams and dirt and smoke, they behave. And freedom does not fit those clothes.