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Haji Jalili Carpet 565x370cms
Tabriz NW Persia Azerbaijan Persia Mostly good Condition. Full pile with some areas of light wear. Newly bound selvedges. Circa late 19th Century. Size: 565x370cms Pure wool pile of approximately 5,250,000 hand tied knots. Warp is on two levels with a 90deg. warp depression. Weft two shoots per row of knots, one blue one white. The main border has multiple cartouches of well-rendered Koranic Verses in a cursive script. Difficult to accomplish by other than a virtuoso weaver. The Tabriz Bazaar is the largest in the Islamic world. For hundreds of years trade between Persia, China and Europe all passed thru Tabriz. With the rise of foreign military power influence, particularly Russia and Britain, and culminating in the opening of the Suez Canal, what was traditionally an economic powerhouse declined. Refugees from the Caucasus flooded the area, and a state of lawlessness ensued. The people of Tabriz were part of the great Ak Koyonlu Turkic horde that moved west out of Central Asia 500-800 years before. Just 300 years earlier their tribe, the Qizil Bash, unified Persia and began the great Safavid Dynasty and cemented Shia as the state religion. Tabriz became the glorious Persian Capital, one of the richest, most civilized cities in the world. By the second half of the 19th Century the new Industrialized wealthy of Europe favoured the great Safavid Dynasty Persian Carpets but as this stock of 200-year-old carpets dried up new ateliers started producing revivals of the great Safavid period carpets. Tabriz experienced an artistic revival and successfully reasserted itself into the forefront of the rug-making world. The most important figure in this reawakening of Tabriz was the master weaver Haji Jalili. Haji Jalili is famous for his unique approach to rug-making. Whereas most of these revival carpets were made in strong red and blue hues, his preference for distinctive tertiary colour harmonies has stood the test of time. Extra fine knotting was required to correctly portray his open patterns of succinctly drawn motifs. The fine mellowing of hues showcases the enduring Art of the Persian Carpet.
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Manchester Kashan
Here is the definitive tale of the famous and rare Manchester Kashan. It begins with the First World War. Persia was invaded by the Czarists, the Ottomans and the British, with German and American involvement carving out spheres of influence. The European warring powers purchased, and some say the British army stole, grain and other transportable foodstuffs, leaving nothing for the local populace. This was followed by a severe 3 year drought where crops failed to such an extent millions starved. It has been estimated as many as one third of the population, 10 million people may have died. Of course few healthy sheep remained. Smart carpet merchants could see the rise of a well-heeled European middle class demanding, and able to pay for, the best Persian Carpets. To restart their business necessitated looking abroad for the best available wool. It was settled on the world's best Australian Merino raw wool that languished in the spinning mills of Manchester and available at a fraction of the usual price as the post war drop in demand had not been taken up by the 1920's fashion industry. Right product, right timing. The business model was to bring that wool to Persia where there was already an unemployed pool of the best vegetal dyers, carpet designers and master weavers in the world. The intention was to make carpets in Kashan the equal of the famous Safavid carpets of centuries before. This became a success and helped kick start the resurgence of great Persian Carpet weaving in other centres. This business model only lasted a little over a decade as Australian merino regained it's price and home-grown wool became plentiful and cheap, and of course the depression in Europe. Most Manchester Kashans were woven with a red field, fewer with blue and the rarest of all, this deep yellow. We recommend this great carpet to you. It is in more or less perfect condition and awaits to contribute its sublime nature to your surroundings.
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The Masheryekhi Family
Handmade in Tabriz Province, NW Persia. Tabriz rugs have been very popular by the east and west over many 100s of years and in a way have become lesser quality, coarsly made and using different synthetic dyes by the early 1920s. The Masheryekhi family live outside Tabriz and In honour of the original fine Tabriz rug, they started a workshop in 1948 to make the finest top quality Tabriz rug using 100% fine cork belly sheep wool and 100% Vegetable dyes. They have only made a small amount of these rugs, all being unique in their own way.
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The Lion Rug of Fars - Weaving Traditions Alive in a Modest Qashgai Home Today
LION RUG (Gabbeh-ye-Shiri) A powerfully symbolic rug, originally placed in a Khan's tent signifying bravery and purity, protector of the the tribe. Fars Province was known in the 12th century as the 'lion mine' of Persia as it was a breeding ground for lions. These weavers may have never seen a lion. Their creativity comes from the story-telling. Artistic free weaving, straight from the mind. This lion was on the coat of arms of Persia till the Islamic Revolution changed it in 1979 but still the Lion Rugs of Fars are woven, reflecting untouched traditions. 100% Hand-spun Sheep wool and notice the beautiful vegetable dyed yellow yarn in this home video. Random comment: The sun is called "khorsheed khanum", sun woman. The only culture this writer knows where the sun is the female gender.
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"Our History" by Chris Walter - The Turkomans of Northern Afghanistan
This article originally appeared in the magazine “Oriental Rug Review”. “Our History" by Chris Walter There are no other people on earth for whom rugs, rug making, and the whole culture of rugs are more central to their existence and perception than the Turkomans. There is scarcely a Turkoman family to be found, at least among those from Afghanistan, where the women don't weave and the men are not involved in rug trade in some way. Jora Agha is a Turkoman from northern Afghanistan. According to our calendar, Jora was born around the year 1943 in Besh Kepe Surkh, a Kislak or village of Akcha, a small market town in northern Afghanistan. Akcha is the center of the Wuluswalik or district which bears the same name in the Vilayet of Shibergan. Jora's father was engaged primarily in the construction of houses from earth, the only building material available there, and throughout most of Afghanistan. Carpets were woven in the home as he grew up, mostly by his mother and sisters. The designs that he recalls being woven in his home were the Ferik naksha, also known as the fil poi or elephant foot, Dowlatabat naksha, and Mauri Gul. Jora identifies his tribe as the Ulu Tepe Gunesh (main peak sun). His larger tribal identity is Ersari, as are most of the Turkomans of northern Afghanistan. That the sub-tribe Ulu Tepe Gunesh is unknown to Western literature is just an illustration of how little in general is known about Turkoman tribal affiliations, aside from the larger super tribes. All of my Ersari Turkoman friends from northern Afghanistan, in fact, have tribal identities which are generally unfamiliar to the outside literature. Jora Agha's Family Jora has two brothers and three sisters. His older brother was named Ane Murat, meaning Juma or Friday Murat. Jora means pair, indicating that when he was born he was seen as the pair of his older brother. Jora never went to school, at least to one of the secular variety, but for 10 years he did go to a medreseh for about one half hour each morning. Here he learned reading and writing as well as Quran. A minority of Turkomans of his generation read and write to any significant degree, so he must have been an avid learner. As with all Turkoman children, he started working as soon as he could be of use, helping around the home or helping his father. At the age of 14 he started working outside the home as a dealer in kilims, khorjins, juvals, felts, and all sorts of small utilitarian woven articles which he would obtain from villagers and nomads and sell to dealers. The dealers to whom he sold these pieces came from Kabul, Kunduz, and Mazar. They were mostly Persian-speaking Tajiks. In those days there were very few Turkoman rug dealers other than those marketing the products woven in their own homes. Jora started dealing in carpets when he was 21 years old. It, of course, takes considerably more capital to deal in carpets than in the smaller utilitarian weavings which, especially at that time, were quite inexpensive. He made his first trip to Kabul 26 years ago when he was about 23 years old. At that time he saw Kabul as an incredible and fascinating place. He first saw foreigners there -- tourists, government representatives, and dealers from America and Europe. As it was difficult for him and other northerners to contact foreigners directly, usually they would sell to the shop dealers; occasionally, by displaying their goods on the street, they were able to sell to tourists directly and realize a much better profit. For several years, Jora went back and forth between Akcha and Kabul in this way, usually staying in Kabul for about one month at a time. The Russian Invasion Like everyone else in Afghanistan, Jora was caught up in the Russian invasion and the war that followed. In the early period of the war, the fighting was especially intense in the North and around Akcha. During that time Jora was himself a Mujahit for about one year and a half, fighting in the northern region. He says that during that early stages of the war the Mujahideen had not yet organized themselves into chains of command, nor was there much structure of any kind; just any 20 or so acquaintances would get together, form a unit and fight as best they could. By this time, however, he had a family whose safety was in jeopardy and, realizing that he must somehow get them out of Afghanistan, he moved them to Kabul late in 1981. In this he was fortunate; many others who did not leave until somewhat later had to make the very long and arduous trek from the North over the rugged central part of Afghanistan, the Hindu Kush, then out to the dangerous plain around Ghazni, through Wardak and the frontier ranges, finally crossing into Pakistan south of Parachinar. Many thousands of families made this grueling trek of 700 kilometers or more. Jora and his family, however, were able to flee by a much shorter route over the border range northeast of Jalalabad. Arriving in Pakistan in early 1982, he settled his family first in a temporary camp near Kemalpur, then in another near Haripur, and finally, in 1983, in Haripur refugee camp. In leaving Afghanistan, Jora and his family escaped with only the clothes they were wearing; they brought no household goods whatsoever. However, he did bring some kilims, carpets, and tent bands, which were extremely cheap in Afghanistan at the time as, in trying to leave, everyone was selling them for whatever price they could get. These he sold in Peshawar, making a good profit, and immediate got money to support his family. He started doing business in Pakistan right from the beginning, getting goods sent out of Afghanistan as he could. He sold wholesale in Peshawar and also would attend the weekly Juma bazaar in Islamabad where he sold to foreigners, diplomats and aid workers. He later took a small shop in Islamabad from which he sold both wholesale and retail whenever he could. His son Baz Mehmet now runs this shop. Collaborating to Help Afghan Weavers I met Jora in 1987 and we became close friends right away. As I already spoke Turkish, it was easy to pick up Turkmeni. While the entire Turkoman community in exile in Pakistan was very kind to me, Jora especially gave me immeasurable assistant in establishing my business there. We worked together for a year or so, dealing in the older stock goods that were still coming out of Afghanistan. In visiting the refugee camp where Jora and his family lived, I became acquainted with the Turkoman families who were weaving there. Recognizing the quality of their work and their diligence, I longed to see them have access to the materials that their skill merited. Having developed a familiarity with the vegetal dye revival in Turkey over several years of involvement there, I conceived the idea of applying this concept to the Turkoman weavers in exile. Jora was enthusiastic about the idea from the beginning. Partially this was in anticipation of the carpets themselves, and the wonder and pleasure in developing a new carpet which recaptured all the subtle beauty of the carpets of his forebears, carpets with which he had occasionally been able to deal but only when lucky enough to find one that was affordable. At the same time, he realized the social potential of the project: work for the refugees at a somewhat better rate than the market, the opportunity for Ersari Turkoman weavers to relearn designs that were part of their heritage, and the chance for them to regain familiarity with the superior materials -- handspun wool and vegetal dyes -- used by their forebears. Establishing the Ersari Project Because of Jora's status with the Turkoman refugee community, he was a natural candidate for a job that involved coordinating a large number of people and enlisting their respect and cooperation. This was essential if we were to realize the ultimate purpose of the project: to achieve all of the aims previously stated as well as to generate a substantial profit for reinvestment in health, education, and other areas deemed necessary within the Turkoman community. For almost five years, we worked together on this project and, I am happy to say, we accomplished many of our original objectives. The first two or three years were especially difficult for both of us as we struggled with many technical issues -- dye stuffs, sources, color, wool, spinning and carding, weave, design. Happily, most of these issues were resolved, if not permanently at least in a fashion that lends credence to our original intent of recreating an authentic Ersari Turkoman carpet. Still one of our initial objectives remains unfulfilled: to make use of the resources we have accumulated to make substantial infrastructural contributions to the Turkoman community. We realize that our status as a refugee population in Pakistan is transient; indeed, the consensus from all hands is that this era of exile in Pakistan is drawing to a close. Within the past year the welcome to all refugees from the Pakistani side has been wearing increasingly thin. Perceiving the war against Communism as being won, the Pakistanis have little patience or understanding of the myriad ethnic conflicts that continue to make Afghanistan a very unsafe place to live. From their side, no one is more eager to go home than the Turkomans, whose 12-year history in Pakistan has indeed been a case study of thriving amidst adversity. For the moment we bide our time, reluctant to expend our hard earned resources in a land of temporary exile, waiting for the situation in the north of Afghanistan to reach a state where people can return and live in safety. Jora believes that when he and the other Turkomans return to the north of Afghanistan, when we move our project there, then he will make better rugs still. In his homeland, in the plains, mountains and valleys surrounding Akcha and Mazar-i-Sharif, he and his fellow Turkomans know the land, the sheep, the plants, the water -- where and how all the necessary components of fine rugs can be found. Well-Earned Pride of Product There is hardly an instance where I have sat down to write with greater pleasure and anticipation of illuminating a subject well deserving of exposure. Contemporary rug literature and trade magazines are replete with accounts, observations, and promotions by rug producers living in the country of sale or distribution, be they originally of eastern or western birth. Most of these individuals spend 90 percent of their time in the respective countries of sale and, while undoubtedly having considerable input into the rugs that are produced, are often rather removed from the functional mechanics and day-to-day labor and struggle of making rugs. There are more than a few major rug producers who would be hard pressed to tie a knot, throw a weft, spin yarn, dye the colors they want, or finish and wash a rug properly by themselves. Not so another group of people, people whom we may call the real rug producers, the local on-the-scene rug producers who follow the process through from start to finish. From among this group of people there are, of course, great variations in ability and artistry. The individuals to whom I pay tribute in this and in subsequent articles are those who have made extraordinary efforts and contributions to this field of endeavor and who have committed their lives, usually with a passion, to making beautiful rugs. They have been involved in every aspect of hands-on rug making and could do any of the tasks which are required to make good rugs. These are people who have devoted their lives to rugs, rug making, and the rug business, who are known and respected within their own society and community, yet who would probably never normally come to the attention of the rug world at large. As people with whom I have worked closely, in most cases for a number of years, I owe a great deal to them for their persistence, hard work, and enthusiasm for and devotion to rug making. Jora Agha is the first real rug producer to be highlighted in my series of articles.” -- February/March, 1993 Note: Jora and his wider family moved back to their Turkoman homeland in Northern Afghanistan in 2003 and 2004. Some families stayed in Attock and Peshawar as the younger generation had married into the local Pathani tribes. Of my other Turkoman friends, the AllahBerin brothers have moved permanently to Lahore where they wash and prepare all the rugs coming straight off the Turkoman looms in the homelands. Most of the traditional Mughal style carpets in my shop originate here. AllahMurad’s wider family have returned to breeding the famous Akhal Teke horses in the homelands. Habbibullah and Jawad have remained old and antique Turkoman rug specialists, and each year bring their rare goods south and meet me in Peshawar or Lahore. Credit must be given to Harald Boehmer and Hans Bruggerman whose successful research into the actual dye plants used in the pre-industrial carpets helped reboot the art of Eastern Weaving. There are many “Joras”, in Shiraz, Persia, Kurdistan, the D.O.B.A.G project, Turkey etc. expressing a vibrant cultural re-establishment following the imperialist nightmare. U.N.E.S.C.O. provided expert organic chemists, dye specialists from France, Stanford University associates provided venture capital, and small time specialist dealers around the world supported the productions.
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Better in the Getty - ARDEBIL
The land of the Persians, known to Europeans for centuries as Persia, is fractured by mountain ranges, made inhospitable by deserts, yet rich in fertile plains, forests and jewel-like gardens. Home to the most sublime architecture in the world, and a breeding ground for poets, empires, mathematicians, astronomers, mystics and saints, it has an enduring and invincible fascination. Our mission is to enrich your understanding of this great civilization, from the empires of Xerxes and Cyrus, the Parthians and Sassanians, the Mongol and Oghuz, the Safavids, and Rumi, Hafez, Saadi and Omar Khayyam to Ayatollah Khomeni and the modern state. This type of Persian Carpet is known in Persia and the worldwide trade as Ardebil Senneh Baf. Most Ardebil carpets use large scale geometric designs because the population is akin to the Azerbaijan Republic, both originating from the Kizil Bash tribes of the Turkic Ak Koyanlu horde. The Ardebil Senneh Baf is distinct because it nods to a more Persianate sensibility. Finely knotted, sensitively hued, and with the design of a fishpond as an existential metaphor. It has been said the fishpond pattern is to exercise the Sufi idea of layers of consciousness, and should be clearer/stronger towards the centre, whilst having no technical change. Pure woollen symmetrical knots on a cotton warp, two weft shoots per row of knots. Ardebil has a Sufi shrine that is an important pilgrimage centre. The famous Ardebil Carpets now in the Getty and the V&A were gifted to the shrine during the Safavid era. The Safavid Empire and the fact of Persia being a Shia Islam country began in Ardebil in the early 16th century. A Tour de Force of Persian Art. We welcome you to view our beautiful Ardebil Carpets below.
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MAMLUK
The great Mamluks are one of the least-known empires in history. They were blue-eyed Cossacks, guards of the Egyptian Palace who took control of the whole of the Arab East Mediterranean and ruled from 1250 to 1517. Artists were imported from across the known world and a great flowering ensued. Their weaving in particular shows many different cultural influences, as the artisans brought their traditions and design influences with them. These slave-warriors of medieval Islam overthrew their masters, defeated the Mongols and the Crusaders and wove what some say are most beautiful “Persian” carpets ever made.
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Indigofera Tinctoria
INDIGO For a long time it was presumed that both the seeds for the indigo-bearing plants and the knowledge of how to turn them into a dye the colour of the night sky had blown west with the winds of trade; from India to the Middle East and Africa. People discovered the process independently, and at different times, across the world. There are many different species of plant that produce indigo - woad is one - but the one most coveted for its colourant is Indigofera Tinctoria. The land of the Persians, known to Europeans for centuries as Persia, is fractured by mountain ranges, made inhospitable by deserts, yet rich in fertile plains, forests and jewel-like gardens. Home to the most sublime architecture in the world, and a breeding ground for poets, empires, mathematicians, astronomers, mystics and saints, it has an enduring and invincible fascination. Our mission is to enrich your understanding of this great civilization, from the empires of Xerxes and Cyrus, the Parthians and Sassanians, the Mongol and Oghuz, the Safavids, and Rumi, Hafez, Saadi and Omar Khayyam to Ayatollah Khomeni and the modern state.
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Buzkashi
Afghanistan is many things to many people but to me two things define it. Islam and the horse. As a young merchant, among my first purchases were a print of the Islamic mystical horse Buraq, and a Turkoman saddle cover. The energetic equestrian sport of Buzkashi is played in sight of mountains that proclaim loudly, “all is folly”. The Herat market is a series of open squares with half a dozen 3x3 metre shops making up each side. This typical Central Asian Silk Road architecture ensured each merchant could see the others, and who and what came and went. The prettiest feature to my foreign eyes is the cupola-round ceiling of each shop, constructed of a thousand perfectly placed thin adobe bricks. The view from the top of the nearby minaret references upside down egg cartons. I asked the vendor of the Buraq print to explain it to me. Similar to me in age, height, weight, and colouring, but a disfigured smallpox survivor, this is what he said; “One night when the Prophet Mohammed was asleep in his bedroom, he was awakened by the angel Gabriel who came with Buraq, the beautiful human female-headed horse. The prophet Mohammad and the angel Gabriel mounted Buraq and flew to within 7 bow shots of Allah. After Mohammed received the whole of the Quran, the holy book, they returned to the bedroom just in time to catch the pitcher of water on the bedside table that had been clipped by Buraq’s wings on the way out.” I am in love with Herat. The absurd contradiction of feigned empathy against a real depth to everyday thought pervades the spaces between people in a way that is as light as air. The bus is late we complain! “Nothing is important” the shouted reply to the now laughing ticket holders. In such a setting all speech is a Gazal, a love song of the infinite. Horses. The small Samangan, the strong Kunduz, or the fleet Turkman are the recognisable result of centuries of careful breeding. Horse tack takes on a religiosity as skilled women put great artistry in weaving a range of special accoutrement. The beloved horse will have a choice of outfits, for work, for play and formal occasion. This is not only practical, but the talismanic and apotropaic tools to bring success into being. Weaving. When the yarns and the looms have been prepared, a party is held. Popular Islamic stories and special Sufi poems are sung, and risqué jokes told. This women-only “Start of Weaving” party makes the process and the object a recipe to cook and serve the future, bringing it into existence. No question really, as to why these mostly small weavings have a presence, even out of context, away from Islam and horses: Handmade by powerful women and their families in touch with the magic of life on Earth. Collected at source over a 45year period, we offer these little pieces of magic for your delectation. The Cater family at The Rug Shop Bangalow
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Khoresht Karafs (Persian Celery Stew)
Ingredients: 1 whole celery 2 large onions 6 cloves garlic 3 cups fresh parsley (chopped) 1.5 cups fresh mint (chopped) 1 tsp tumeric 3/4 tsp ground cinnamon 1/2 tsp ground nutmeg 1/2 tsp ground cardamon 3/4 tsp ground cumin A good pinch of saffron bruised & brewed in a small amount of hot water (1Tbsp) 2 dried Persian limes - prick holes into them (you can get from Asian grocery stores) 4 cups stock (I use vegetable) oil salt & pepper to taste Method: 1/ finely chop onion & crush garlic. 2/ Cut celery stems into 1cm pieces. 3/ In a heavy pot with lid fry onion & garlic in oil until transparent then add tumeric & let sizzle for a couple of seconds. 4/ Add celery stems & fry for a few minutes. 5/ Add herbs & celery leaves, spices, saffron, limes, stock, salt & pepper, cover and cook on a slow heat for 1.5 hours. Enjoy it as a side dish or with nice fresh bread & butter.
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How I fell for a career in Persian Carpets
‘Where do I start?’ She suggested the stories of my search for business in Herat, Western Afghanistan when I was young and inexperienced. So . . . It was a time of relative peace before the USSR and USA fought over Afghanistan. This was my second visit to Herat, the first as a merchant. The year before, being massively interested in all things Persian, I had returned to Australia from Europe via the hippie overland route and bought rugs for myself. These were quickly snapped up by family and friends. So, being unemployed, I rented a shop in Paddington, Brisbane for $15 a week, borrowed some money from Custom Credit, and returned to magical Herat. Magical Herat The old shoe market as it is today It was magical to me at the time, but not because it had been a major centre of Persian culture, home of the great artist Bihzad, the poets Jami and Ansari, mathematicians, and philosophers etc. but rather why it was so. In Australia it was the time of Germaine Greer, women in the Public Bar, equal pay. However in 15th century Herat the like-minded Empress Gawhar Shad was championing the rights of women and minorities. She built a co-ed university where, it is rumoured, free love, and open marriage were commonplace, supported by an in-house creche. Here was a synergy I discovered, when most travellers of my generation were flocking to Indian gurus. One day I met Mohammed Amin in the ancient Bazaar market. He was immediately special to me as his goods were made by women and minorities. He championed the marginalised small tribes and their weavings. These included the refugees from Stalinist Russian purges across the border. A Treasure Trove It was a veritable treasure trove, in keeping with the egalitarian memory of Gawhar Shad and the zeitgeist of my own generation. Not for him, or me, the fine silk rugs made by so-called “Master Weavers”, reeking of the capital-meets-labour paradigm of the Western economic model. We both liked rugs with a history, a family, and like cave paintings, expressing the wonder of it all. I was very young, very raw, but with a good “eye” and a passion. That was all Mohammed Amin needed, and he gave me that first shipment on a handshake, no signed legally binding agreements, simply a list and total. I made a small down-payment with my last pennies and agreed to finalise the account in a year or three. I returned in 18 months but could not find Mohammed Amin. My enquiries were treated in hushed undertones. A Smuggler As it transpired Mohammed Amin was a smuggler. He had made his money with a camel train crossing the desert into modern Persia and this explained how he became to be on good terms with the interesting tribal groups. The camel train had been caught and confiscated. He lost much of his wealth and his younger brother, who led the train, was now a cripple. After searching, I found Mohammed Amin in the run-down shoe market, managing a women’s shoe shop where the customers, fully covered in the ubiquitous Afghan blue pleated chadry, sat on metal chairs and proffered a stockinged foot. He apologised to me that he could no longer do the rug business and introduced me to Qasim who was to be my best friend and supplier for many years, till his disappearance. Newly appointed Communist government officials overtaxed the conservative merchant classes, and he escaped. He turned up with his family, refugees from increasingly war-torn Afghanistan in Agra, India, asking for money. He was broke, destitute, and basically asking for survival. I sent Qasim thousands of dollars, from the profit of Mohammed Amin’s original shipment and later buying trips, but heard nothing for a few years. Rug Shipment Then I got a call from my Customs Agent, “What shall we do with this rug shipment from Persia?” It was from Qasim. I inspected every rug and calculated that Qasim’s debt had been paid, and paid to the very last cent. He had gone from Agra to Mashaad in Persia, a centre of the carpet trade, made some money and repaid his trade debt. It was complete, the trusting trade that had started with Mohammed Amin had gone full circle. I later lost contact and have not heard from him since. One day, I want to make a movie called “Finding Qasim”. I feel blessed to have experienced a business model based on trust, respect and a belief in the essential goodness of people. Maybe I was at the end of an era, the last gasp of The Silk Road. Perhaps such days will come again. - Milton Cater This article appeared in:
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