This year, Ramadan begins on April 23. Muslims will fast, pray, spend time with loved ones, and focus on appreciating all that God provides. They will simplify daily life, reducing it to those important basics. With so many of us sheltering in place, it is not only Muslims whose days will be stripped down.

As we approach Ramadan, I have been thinking of two leather-bound volumes in the MFA’s Islamic art collection that make me smile. They are the 13th and 24th sections of a 30-volume Qurʾan made in Iran in 1338 and 1339 (AH 738 and 739).

I smile because I feel as if I know the man who made them. He is real to me, in a way the makers of most historical objects are not, because he left a note at the end of each volume. In these notes he tells us his name and where he lived: ʿAbdallah ibn Ahmad ibn Fadlallah ibn ʿAbd al-Hamid al-Qadi al-Qazvini, in the city of Maragha. He also records the date he finished each volume, and his age: 77, then 78.

He was probably an amateur calligrapher with another profession. I imagine him as a grandfather, maybe a retired judge (one of his names hints at this), who had always hoped for the time to one day copy out the full Qurʾan. He clearly worked hard on it, sometimes getting a lot done and sometimes little. Over Ramadan, when life gets more quiet and focused, he was able to finish six volumes.

When I look at these two volumes, I imagine their scribe felt pious as he wrote, but also truly happy to spend time in this way. And this year, during Ramadan, when I cannot spend time with these volumes because the Museum is closed, I will daydream about my friend, who chose to dedicate himself to these most cherished words for a time, and set everything else aside.