Lines. That’s what comes to mind. Airplane streamers hung above a string of Christmas lights. Suspended over repetitions of bricks and the weft, and weave of carpeting at my feet. Grated screen window grids framing captured paths of dried leaves and diagonal, meandering branches. Lines of thought connecting periwinkle blue paper to fading blue evening sky to stripes of fabric, blue, cascading down the front of my outfit. Leading and following gazes, imaginary threads tying this moment to that gathering a summer ago.