For my beloved’s entertainment, this evening I used Lego bricks in an entirely new way. I collected all the unused bricks, of which there were about a half, and connected them one on top of another only by size and color. Standing up, some columns are short, and some are tall. Some are thick, and some are thin. All together, there are about forty of them in six colors. Using a square grid, I arrayed them on the parquet floor by the front door. Looking down, they form an elegant oval. A carefully placed standing lamp makes the Lego bricks sing in unison. My beloved will be delighted when she opens the door in an hour or so. At first sight, the composition looks very like Manhattan, for the columns can also be towers. After all, I am not just an architect (“Mimar Sinan,” December 11, 2013). I am an urban planner, too. After some reflection, though, the composition looks like so many paintings by Kandinsky, Malevich, and Mondrian. But the third dimension adds a new twist to the composition. Hey, it appears that I am also a sculptor. I can already see and hear my beloved walking all around the composition in her coat and giggling, giggling. “You mustn’t touch this!” she will stammer at last and wag a finger at me. This is what she tells me about all the other toys I have made for her thus far.