The lines could have been straight. They understood the architecture of order, the cold, sharp promise of a horizon— but the transmission failed.
What bends them is not a lack of skill, but the weight of the filter they must pass through. When the mind is imbalanced, the upright world begins to lean; the steady becomes a vibration.
Nothing here is “broken.” The lines are simply refusing to lie. They are the honest record of a vision that sees the straightness of the world and receives it as a curve.
It is the shape of a reality that clarity cannot reach.