To my grandfather, a quiet king who carried entire worlds within his heart. His green ID card left him behind walls that I could only cross through endless checkpoints. The stairs I created, cast from broken tiles of the family home, hold lentil seeds resting on soft cotton, waiting to sprout - a living proof that hope survives. His worn-out sandals lie here, bound to dreams that never came true. This is the story of a man who taught love - not through words, but through presence.
