We live our lives along perfect lines. Striving to duplicate cheated acts of perfection. A line is never perfect and yet we constrain it till it is. Till it must be.
Perfect lines in an imperfect world. How we outline our lives each day with our personality. Walking lines with printed happiness. How happy must they be?
Perfect line, I seek you still. Through constrained perception I seek my own true line. A line not just to walk by, not just to live along, but to guide my hand. Through dreams of perfect strokes.