p3, twinned
p3 twinned by a rotation. To the left of the composition line the motif sits where p3 puts it; to the right every copy has been carried over by the twin law, which is one of the 3 operations the hexagonal lattice has and p3 does not. 24 images on the left, 24 on the right, and the lattice runs through the line unbroken — which is exactly why a twinned crystal looks like a single one.
7 essays call
twin-plate. The drawing above is what it returns with no arguments at all; every
call below passes it something, because a placement that passes nothing draws whichever member
of the family the generator happens to default to rather than the one its essay argues about.
Every one of this site's 393 essays names its parameters at the
call site, which the standard pass of 2026-08-09 established and param-floor
holds.
Where it is called
Changing this generator changes every one of these figures.
A twin is a symmetry the lattice has and the crystal does not
Two orientations of one structure, grown together across a boundary the lattice runs straight through. The operation relating them cannot be a symmetry of the crystal, or there would be nothing to see, and it must be a symmetry of the lattice, or the boundary would be a crack — which leaves exactly a coset, and a short computable list.
Twenty-five of the thirty-two can twin, and seven cannot
The number of twin laws available to a crystal is the index of its class in the point group of its lattice, minus one. Doing that arithmetic for all thirty-two classes takes a moment and produces a census with a sharp edge on it — the seven classes that cannot twin this way are exactly the seven that already use everything their lattice has.
Quartz has exactly three twin laws, and its lattice is why
Class 32 on a hexagonal lattice has index four, so three twin laws and no more. They turn out to be the three the mineralogists named — Dauphiné, Brazil and the combination of the two — and reading quartz's lattice off its class instead of measuring it would have produced one law where there are three.
Turn a lattice against itself and almost nothing lines up
Two copies of one lattice rotated about a shared point share that point and, at almost every angle, no other. At a discrete set of angles they share a whole sublattice — one point in three, or five, or seven — and a grain boundary built on such an orientation costs a fraction of what a general one costs, because a fraction of the atoms are already where both sides want them.
Five copies, and the gap they leave
Gold, silver and silicon grow particles with a five-fold axis down the middle, out of a lattice that forbids one. Nothing is violated: five tetrahedral pieces of ordinary face-centred metal, each the mirror image of its neighbour, come to three hundred and fifty-two and a half degrees rather than three hundred and sixty — and the seven degrees left over have to go somewhere.
The index and the angle a twin misses by
Whether a crystal will twin on a given operation is decided by its lattice, not by its structure. Two numbers decide it: how many lattice nodes there are per node the operation restores, and how far the operation is from being a symmetry at all. Both are computed from integers, and one of them is a fiction that has to be labelled as one.
A twin hides in the statistics
A twinned crystal scatters as two orientations at once and the detector cannot separate them. What arrives is a sum of two intensities — and adding two independent quantities narrows a distribution, which is a signature no model of the structure is needed to read.