Perhaps you’re in a Gothic Cathedral, admiring the stone tracery outlining the jewelled colours of the stained glass windows. Perhaps you’re in an old crone’s snug, listening to tales of her tough country life, out in all weathers, as you inspect the tracery of thread-like broken veins on her ruddy cheeks. Perhaps you’re gazing at a naked winter tree, its tracery of twigs and branches outlined against the sky. Perhaps …. oh, I don’t know. You tell us.