Remembrance for peace

My mother didn't really remember her father - he died when she was three from the after-effects of his being gassed in the First World War trenches. She always wore a white poppy for peace on remembrance day, in his memory.

This is his 1918 diary, in which he recorded the reading out of the Peace in his camp in northern France. The background is one of my mother's indigo pieces 'Tree of Life'.

Sadly, governments and ideologies all over the world are still sending young people to their deaths more than ninety years after the end of the 'war to end all wars'.