“The greatest luxury my family had were some tiles that my father had laid down for my mother. My father was a manual laborer. He had taken all of us to one of the tile factories on a family trip. My father couldn’t afford the tiles, so he had us sort through the rejects, the broken and imperfect shards so that we could have something beautiful. I remember how he got on his hands and knees for my mother and for us children. I remember how he concentrated intently as he placed together a work of...
