Thesprotia, October 30, 1940. The shells whistled fiercely overhead and they, terrified, did not know how to react. […] Maro, panicked by the fire of hell that was creeping out from the black clouds above, held Konstantis tightly in her arms. She had nestled like a little bird under a tree and was trying to protect herself and the frightened child. She stroked his hair through his cloak and whispered softly to him, “I love you, my Konstantis, I love you, my child. Don’t be afraid.”

Yet fear crept into her mind; fear and injustice. She thought that at this very moment, Eleni would have gotten out of bed, throwing off her covers. She would go outside and face an empty and desolate village. "She deserved it!" she said aloud, not caring that her child could hear her. However, deep inside, she knew that what they had done to the unfortunate woman equated to death, both emotional and physical.

It was one of the few times that Maro called upon God's help: "My God, please do not let evil fall upon my head. I wasn't the only one at fault," she pleaded, attempting to justify herself – and her actions – in her prayer. The mosaic of Confession reveals itself and mesmerizes...