Finally! thought Pêro. It seemed far too long since he had had the chance to sit and draw painterly lines of their designs. The responsibilities of the growing shop and the manumitting of others, along with his deacon duties had all pulled him from what he loved most: the painting of tiles. Unforeseen problems he now must deal with as he confronted each new responsibility and the demands of the Fabrica. It was in the painting, when all the hard work of the clay preparation paid off and the tiles began to come alive with a soul of their own that he loved.
Finally! Pêro dipped the fine tipped brush into the glass jar of cobalt blue and glue extender, the grains of ground pigment visible as he swept the receptive hairs of the brush across the white prepared ground of the tile. His heartbeat
