it was a thing of grace. neat and splendid it stood its ground there. at perfect angles and in straight lines. the bounderies it drew had roomy dimensions, large lines. i was in awe of it and my admiration and thankfulness was aimed at it directly. the previous contraption was unreliable and of poor quality. it was in fact, rather dangerous. it had collapsed many times, causing major frustration. but this. this was perfect and beautiful and all of it a healthy, practical garden green. it stood there fearing nothing it would encounter. it was the master and would be for ever. the perfect no-nonsense washing line. six lines of seven meters each adequately spaced between the sturdiest wooden poles cemented into the ground. no amount of washing would ever bring these lines down.

creamy sails billow
reassuringly whipping
outside my window