When I was in 3rd grade, my class took a trip to the planetarium at the Natural History Museum to see a presentation about fractals. I didn’t know what in the world a fractal was, so I was expecting a view of the stars in our galaxy, a short discussion, and an early dismissal. We all sat down in the large round room, craning our heads up to look at the domed screen on the ceiling when the presentation began. I was astounded by the intricately beautiful designs that swirled above me. It amazed me that these incredible patterns were made from a single, simple mathematical equation; not only were they stunningly detailed, they continued on forever. Even more astounding to me was the fact that these were imitations of characteristics found in nature, such as leaves or ice crystals. I learned that mathematical equations could describe things that were wild and unpredictable as the sight of tree branches growing in natural splendor. So just like Tom Zhang, who found his fascination and comfort in his work on the twin primes, I can find solace in the labyrinthine depths of fractals.