One Friday night, when life left me without a home and vulnerability took hold of my spirit, anger and injustice hit me hard. I was alone with my daughter, facing the abyss, and amid that chaos, an unstoppable urge surged within me: to take those emotions and turn them into a piece that celebrated the strength and freedom we carry within.

Charcoal became the witness of an evening where light and shadow met, creating a space for introspection and transformation. The scene that emerged on the canvas was not a mere representation, but a profound manifestation of what it means to be a mother: a small, warm, and safe stable inhabited by a mare and her foal. I did not choose this image by chance. These two figures represented the architecture of my bond with my daughter—a conscious choice that contrasted with the possibility of depicting larger animals.

At that moment, I wanted to capture the essence of what it means to be a shelter. I’m not talking about a physical place, but that inner strength that a mother must find within herself to protect and guide her child. The mare, in her serenity, embodies the maternal figure who, no matter the circumstances, becomes the home and refuge for her foal. The foal, connected to her by an invisible thread of pure and eternal love, reflects the dependence and trust my daughter placed in me, even when everything else seemed to fall apart.

I couldn’t tell you how many times I sharpened the tip of my charcoal, but every stroke that brought these animals to life was filled with a deep desire: that their gazes would convey the safety of being well, of being safe, despite everything. I chose these horses not only for their symbolism of freedom but because their nature is to run, to move forward without stopping. A horse that does not run, that does not fulfill its purpose, is destined for sacrifice. And that’s how I felt at that moment: forced to move forward, to never stop, because stopping would have meant surrender.

I could have depicted more imposing figures, but these two horses reflect our story with precision. Motherhood has transformed me into a being capable of turning pain into joy, of crossing fields and mountains tirelessly just to see a smile on my daughter’s face. Because in life, as in this work, our power lies in our ability to adapt, to find in the midst of chaos a new opportunity to run toward our goals in freedom, without looking back.