"If anger leads, what is there to the message but wind…"
We were born without strings, but the world we entered came with hands — hands that tied, tugged, and taught us to move not by will, but by design.
Yet within each of us, a whisper remains — a memory of motion unchained, a rhythm untouched by command.
This is a place for that whisper. A place where love rises like light, sent skyward to soften the hands that forgot they too were once free.
Here, we do not shout. We send messages. We do not hate. We remember.
Welcome to Unstrung — where the strings fall away, and the heart begins to speak.