A mother holds up her daughter whilst sitting on a rocking chair. The mother’s chest is hollow as she holds up her seemingly happy baby. One does not understand this scene as the woman being incomplete, rather it can be seen that her child completes her. A perhaps archaic assumption, I think ignoring that would take away from the warmth of their relationship. Henry Moore paralysed a moment of time that he will never truly grasp, the female bond created at birth. The bronze sculpture rocks back and forth with the weight of their bodies, creating a constant sense of comfort through movement. He has created an intimate moment bursting with love, simply for his daughter Mary to play with.