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This poem was written in reflection of meticulous and thorough hand drawing.

Lines on trace paper, the architect desires to make them precise yet free, ugly yet beautiful.

Thousands of lines on the paper collaborate to tell the idea. One line out of composition can lose the soul of the drawing. 

Hours are spent communicating the idea from the history of lines drawn intuitively from a plain piece of paper.

Yet in seconds, two strokes diagonally across the studious drawing can mean the ending of a story. 

This is the power of lines. 

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