The dice didn't know what you were going to say, yet in an instant they had broken the silence. Two were missing in action and the search party had mobilised.

"How does it start?" There were no clues in the dice on the table. One under the cat's paws, the other fished out of a steaming mug of tea... "The crow took a hot bath, a bit hotter than he expected when all of a sudden..."

That crow was a hero. You were about to hear his story for the first time.

The serious world decided at some point that connecting coloured plastic together is something you grow out of.

Every building, every business, every sentence you've ever written started the same way. One uncertain piece connected to another until something held. You didn't know what you were making until the third or fourth attempt. Neither does a child with a pile of bricks.

What changed is the tools. Somewhere along the way they got complicated enough to require attention of their own, taking it from the thing you were trying to make.

Lego works because the rules are simple enough to disappear. When the material gets out of the way, you find out what you actually think.