Every morning, even as Alzheimer's took more and more from him, our grandfather would break pieces of bread and leave them outside for the birds. Some days he couldn't remember our names. But he never forgot how to care.

That was our grandfather. An honest man. A generous one. He believed that surrounding people with beautiful, well-made things was its own form of kindness — and he spent over four decades living that belief. He helped people not because he expected anything back, but because it simply never occurred to him not to.

In 1979, he fled the Islamic Revolution with his children, his family, and what he could carry. Among the things he didn't leave behind: his rugs, and the knowledge of what made them worth keeping. He rebuilt his life around that knowledge — traveling to Iran, Turkey, Afghanistan, the Caucasus, and beyond, hand-selecting every piece, and sharing what he knew freely with anyone who asked.

He passed away a few months ago. He left us with love — and he left us with rugs. We're doing our best to honor both.

This site was put together by his grandson — a graduate student in New York — to see that mission through. Every rug you find here was chosen by him, with the same discernment he brought to his own home. We hope one finds its way into yours.