Waiting for my beloved to return from her office, this afternoon I played with Lego bricks once again. The play turned rather serious in no time. I was building branching patterns of a certain height and exploring their variety. Each pattern was of its own color. Soon enough, it all reminded me of my work with Michael Woldenberg, a mathematical geographer and my master’s thesis supervisor at Harvard, more than forty years ago. Constrained by the number and color of bricks in our collection, I became frustrated pretty fast. I wanted to build all the patterns possible, but I was running out of bricks before I could get very far. The branching patterns I was building turned rather interesting, though. Given the height of the patterns, I quickly realized that they could represent parents and their offspring in two to three generations at most. Genealogical trees, that is. First cousins could get married, as was the case in many traditional societies bent on preserving family fortunes. In the end, I lined up all the branching patterns on the floor and turned a standing lamp at them. They show growing complexity quite well. My beloved will be pleased, I am sure, and especially when she hears my story. Her elderly boy is playing diligently while she is away.