In a landscape of green hills, the conflict between innocence and violence takes shape. A woman with a firm face, red lips and impenetrable gaze holds a flyswatter racket like a scepter of authority. In her lap, a porcelain doll lies twisted, like a symbol of broken childhood or of a world that has lost its sweetness.
In front of her, a crowd of cloned childlike figures line up, dressed in white suits marked by scripture, holding toy rifles with red tips. They are miniature soldiers, an army of childhood turned into obedience, into merchandise of a system that molds them from the cradle.
In the foreground, the dark muzzle of a gun imposes its presence, heading towards the scene as a silent threat. It is the symbol of a power that lurks, that determines destinies and suggests that the struggle is no longer symbolic, but an inevitable reality.
This image is a clash of forces: the female authority with its fly swatter, the army of child soldiers, the ominous gun, the torn doll. All in a scenario of apparent natural tranquility, as if violence and domination were part of the landscape, as if capitalism and its structures reach us even in the most remote places.