The blended family is now huge. We are a huge blended hungry family. My brothers are sent to Egypt, where a smart someone has stored food for the famine. My proud brothers are now beggars. Of course I stay at home with my father.
Symbols are much more powerful when they can be touched, felt, occasionally spoken to.
I am not quite of my brothers anyway, this is not only because I have a different mother. I am the slightly cracked egg, slightly cracked at birth, in the box of one dozen eggs that you buy in your stores today. I am the one that sticks to the bottom of the carton when you go to use it. You pull it gently out, examine it, try to decide if it is safe to use, or should be thrown away. My father keeps me, the slightly cracked egg, and lets the others go off to Egypt.