I was at Turquoise Mountain in Afghanistan when I met them. Suddenly it all came rushing back to me.
I remembered as a young girl looking at the gilded frames in my mother's bedroom. In each was a painting -- small and very detailed.
How do they do those? I asked her.
Very carefully, she replied.
But how can they paint with such tiny little lines? I insisted.
You learn how in school. But you have to be very talented and very patient, she answered.
Do they have a name, these kinds of paintings? I asked.
Yes, my mother said. They're called "Persian miniatures."
Years later, it seems I was meeting Afghan miniaturists in training.
Then -- no matter the sad and troubled events on the nightly Afghan news -- you might be secure in the knowledge that you can always rely on your steady hand. And find comfort in having inched closer to....
PS: If you'd like to receive My Marrakesh in your inbox, subscribe here.