"To choose," murmurs the rusty pendulum, "is to sever the possibility of alternatives. Each tick, a wedge between paths, a dance of choices engraved in brass. Do you feel, traveler, the heavy hands of destiny upon your shoulder, guiding but never forcing?"
"In another clockwork realm," it continues, "where hands move against the grain, your ligaments are choices untaken. Here, we oscillate between what was and what might yet be, in a symphony of a million sonatas unsung. Are you ready to embrace the choice, or remain swept away by the current of time?"
Take a moment and breathe. Feel the gears align.