"In the beginning, there was the string, and on it, echoes of every forgotten promise lingered, like vintage wine in dusty cellars."

Take a step back to see the mirage of choices.
Trace the lines that lead to nowhere, yet everywhere.

"Each echo was a reminder of what could have been, a sardonic nod to the paths not taken, buried under layers of nostalgia."

Whisper your secrets to the void, where they will be cherished as artifacts of irony.