Pixel Albert Einstein's study has run out of shelves. Books about light, notebooks full of sums, a chalkboard or three and the violin case he takes everywhere are piled on every chair. The only free space left in the room is up, so he starts a tower in the middle of the rug and names it the Big Idea Tower.
Each piece slides in above the pile and has to land just right. A tidy drop keeps the tower wide; a careless one shaves off a corner. Stack high enough and the ceiling seems to fade away, the stars come out and space itself begins to bend around the tower. How far can a good pile of ideas go?










