In torn clothes, with her hair loose, strewn with ashes and gunpowder, there is a pitiful and sad old-time Sorrowful mother, Demeter. In her hands are dried spikelets and a withered poppy color. Blurred eyes, in which there are no more tears, confuse and helplessly wander from subject to subject. Mother is looking for a lost daughter. She left her in the middle of a meadow on the shore of the Ocean to play with nymphs and forbade her to collect daffodils, treacherous flowers dedicated to the underground deities...