I noticed just last night that the way certain people organize things is rather funny. Glasses in three straight lines like Terra-Cotta warriors ready for battle (or thirst-quenching); long lines of people, slightly zigzagged in formation, but nonetheless organized; and the organization of we, the people. It's funny to think that we live so much in lines, whether they be straight, curvy, dashed, or broken, but when you think about it, lines are everywhere. So what does a line really represent? A prescribed path that we must follow, or a way we may go, that we may choose? Sometimes it seems that the lines are blurry, and we must splay our hands in front of us to try to "see" through the fog. But no matter what kind of lines we face, we are parallel on one thing that is certain: they are everywhere, so get in line.
