Three women and a child walk together but alone - figures in a mysterious landscape, drifting through memory, colour and the quiet weight of unspoken stories and belonging, carrying inherited remembrances of a not-so-distant past: fragments of the past that linger in the silence between them, carried through colour and presence. The painting speaks of inheritance not as possession, but as emotional residue passed from one generation to the next.

A woman is clutching the olive branch of peace with despair and pain in her face because she’s at the centre of war, famine, death, standing in the ruins of bombed house. The woman next to her is a city woman and her only news is from TV or newspapers. She’s never felt it, but now is witness to the reality of war. A moment of hope as the next generation watch the angels of peace coming to rescue. A woman and a child in times of famine. And a young man gripping on to barbed wire, a victim of war.