 of love. Is it the lines drawn by the unseen hand? Is it the lines travels by the planets and stars? Is it the lines drawn by the social norms and taboo? Is it the lines etched upon one's hands or feet? Is it the lines of one's prejudice and pride lost in this needless intrigue? One lets life go by. Should humans explore the borderless nature of one's being, lines have no meaning for a being lost in love.