Draped in the lengths of her blue skirt, covering her shoulders, the little knitter stares in space. Her hair is tied and a headband tames her curly long hair. The crimson colour of the poppies behind her appear in her cheeks and again in the trim of her worn-out dress. This little knitter through her candour is reminiscent of a younger White Snow. She dreams of the freedom of laughing and playing with her friends, but for now, the only ones she has are imaginary.
As she knits all day for her mother who will later sell the finished goods, the little knitter escapes the repetitive motion of the needles by entering a new world. It is certainly different from the one she is living in as the clothes and rugs can knit themselves, the poppies can talk, and she can run barefoot in the fields of sunflowers, breathless. Her long dress turns into a cape, and if she runs fast enough she can take flight into the night and voyage with the stars. She closes her eyes to feel the wind blowing through her untied hair. As she giggles out loud to the thought of stroking the moon, she hears a familiar voice: “Anna, what are you doing? You are going to have to undo this entire row”.
She opens her eyes and sees the benevolent look of her mother on her work. She nods to the maternal presence protecting her and goes back to work, surrounded by the poppies and the stars.