For nine months primary school teacher Kazem Karimi has been meticulously knotting the silk strands of a lush crimson Persian carpet hung on a frame in his front room. He has reached the half-way point.
"God is with the patient," quipped a guest.
A few miles down the road, the "Star of the Desert" factory produces 3 million square metres (32 million square feet) of patterned industrial rugs a year.
It is upon such machine-made carpets that Karimi sits in his home in the desert town of Zarch 390 km (242 miles) south-east of Tehran.
"It is sad that my family cannot enjoy our handmade carpets any more. They all go for export or to Tehran," said the 52-year old, passing round a tray of ice-cold grape sherbets.
Iran regards itself as the homeland of carpets.
The tomb of 6th century BC empire-builder Cyrus the Great was decked with rugs.
Shahrokh, son of the 14th century Tartar warlord Tamburlaine, promoted the industry by subsidising looms.
Zarch, known for the bright green turbans of its residents and the wind towers that cool the interiors of houses, used to have traditional carpet workshops dotted across town.
Zarchis say competition from giant factories and steep social security payments have made workshops uneconomic.
Traditional weaving has been forced into private homes, mainly an occupation for housewives.
The Zarchis admit they are forsaking wool, which Iran has in abundance, for luxuriant silk because their sole aim is to profit from exports and rich Tehranis who buy them as an investment.
"I would say in Zarch most people have moved over to silk now. It is bought in from China mainly. Silk carpets sell much better but wool is easier on the fingers," Karimi explained.
Although the industry had retreated into front rooms he remained confident that the market would keep its niche.
"Whatever there is a little of, will be excellent and sought after," he said.
Across the road, Tahereh Darui and her daughters are still keeping Iran's sheep and goats in business with a huge turquoise wool carpet.
"This type of carpet has proper knots," she explained, her fingers dancing through the warp. "Pressed, machine-made carpets are just not made to last."
The "Star of the Desert" factory gives two-year guarantees. Darui says her carpet will last for more than a century.
And she was confident that her daughters would keep the tradition alive and not run away to the big cities following an education she never had.
"They are clever, which makes them far quicker than me at understanding the patterns," she said.
Her father, Mohammad Darui, a pomegranate and pistachio farmer, was less certain about the future of the industry.
"It just isn't making big profits anymore," he said.
Customs officials said hand woven carpet exports fell 4.2 percent in the spring and summer of 2003.
Mohammad Ali Karimi, head of Iran's national carpet company, said Indian, Turkish and Chinese copies of Iranian patterns had devoured Iran's share of the world market.
He was quoted in the Iranian press last year as saying Iran's global share had plummeted suddenly to 28 percent, the first time anyone could recall Persian rugs not holding more than half of the market.
Carpets are the Islamic Republic's second most valuable non-oil export after salty pistachio nuts.
Down at the enormous "Star of the Desert" complex with its 850 staff, managing director Ahmad Sadeghian saw no need to panic about the handwoven industry.
"In Iran, people sit on carpets, eat on them, sleep on them, they live with them. For this day-to-day function machine-made carpets are suitable," he said.
"Hand-made carpets are something for decoration, for the wall, not to be walked on."