ADVERTISEMENT
My mother, Maria Silva, always kept boxes of photographs in the attic of our family home in Lisbon. They were the kind of prints you’d thumb through, yellowing at the edges, filled with weddings, baptisms, vacations by the sea — full of smiles, arms around each other, quiet pride.
I, João Silva, the younger of two sons, always assumed that my family story was straightforward: mother, father, brother — the usual. My father, Luis Silva, built the business from nothing and was the center of our universe; my brother Miguel and I looked up to him.
Continue READING
ADVERTISEMENT
