My grandfather came from Cuba in an ornately carved pirate ship. Beneath the tattered sails, mermaids would often trail crying out to him not to leave the tropic paradise of sugar cane.My grandmother, he said, was the town debutante and a prodigy piano player. She wore elaborate dresses that looked like the expensive pasteries before he stole her. He'd often pull out the weathered clippings at this point, that had somehow made its way through the mail after the revolution....................The oral tradition of storytelling was an important way for my family to keep alive the memory of the home they had to leave. I mark my life through drawings , not straying far from what has been passed to me.