In this speech, the mother is looking for a knife to give her son so that he can cut some grapes for his lunch. But this stirs memories of her other son and husband who were both murdered by the Felix family. 

Knives…knives…I curse them. Curse them all and the criminals who make them. […] And machine guns and pistols and knives and sickles and sycthes. […] Everything with a blade that can cut open the body of a man. A beautiful man, with a mouth like a flower. A man who goes out to his vines or his fields or his olive groves because they are his…[…]
…and then never returns. Or if he does, if he does come back it’s only so we can cover his head with a shroud or cover him with salt to stop his corpse swelling. I don’t know how you dare carry a knife in your belt or why I keep one in my house. It’s like keeping a snake. […] 
First they killed your father who smelt like a rose. I only enjoyed him three years. Then they killed your brother. And is it right and is it just that something as small as a pistol or a knife can finish off a man? A man is a bull, it should take more than such a tiny thing. So no, I’ll never be silent. Months pass. Years pass, and despair bites into me. I can feel it gnawing. At the back of my eyes. At the roots of my hair. […] No. No, this will never end. Can anyone bring your father back? Anyone bring back your brother? And people talk of jail. But what’s that? They can eat there. The murderers. They can eat there, and smoke if they want, and play their guitars. And my two dead bodies turning into grass. Slowly turning into grass. With no voice in their heads. Only dust. Two men, once fresh as flowers. While the murderers live in jail. Cool as cucumbers. With a view of the mountains…