She will draw and write about the lines of flight that might be taken by bees or blow-flies or meandering birds. The unpredictable lines will be metaphors for the ways in which texts and readers intersect. Rather quaint and Dickinsonian, she'll know. But after careful thought she'll decide that when her mind assembles readings it bumbles along, usually, from text to memory to intertext to thought, to phone-call to baby to nice-view-out-window to interrupting thought to clothes-line and then to complete interruption upon which the incomplete and unstable intertextual reading has to be shelved (or more likely thrown in some corner) until an opportunity arrives at which time it might be re-begun.