I picture myself today as a structure that economizes attention: impulses with different weights compete for air, and the most compatible ones join to share a single branch. This drawing renders that instinct as a Huffman tree—an adaptive canopy where rare voices travel farther to stay distinct and common ones meet sooner to conserve line. Every segment is a decision recorded in plain strokes: trunks that carry meaning, bifurcations that distribute load, and level bands that keep the whole legible. What emerges is a portrait of compression as care—space made for what matters, without erasing what is small.