I hate it to have to say something now - but others than me on my own would call me a member of the school "new realism" while the world "decided" to go down in criminal stupidity under pharaoes like Putin and Trump.
So: The symbol in the first picture background are Nazi symbols. The interpretation of this symbols is since World War 2 nearly always only made in stupid and wrong ways - on reason of different forms of political propaganda. In its center this symbols have only to do with the Nazis and the Holocaust. This symbols had in the German or Germanic culture never any serios meaning. There is no German (or Germanic) tradition behind this symbols - except that they existed. The normal Swastika before Hitler came had just simple the meaning "friendship" or "teamwork" - as for example today the heart symbol has the meaning "love". Often many swastikas in a line had been only ornaments in mosaics without any special meaning. For example a frame of a picture on the floor. This was used since the Romans had existed.
The Nazis made an own interpretation of the swastika. They used a swastika which was dynamic - they placed it on an edge so it had "to roll" in their absurd view to the world. Indeed a Swastika is not able to roll. But they combined with swastikas the meaning of a "fire wheel" (Feuerrad). Jacob Grimm wrote about fire wheels in 1854: „Sie flechten ein Wagenrad voller Stroh, tragen es auf einen hohen […] Berg, haben darauf, so sie vor Kälte mögen bleiben, den ganzen Tag ein[en] guten Mut, mit vielerlei Kurzweil, singen, springen, tanzen […]. Um die Vesperzeit zünden sie das Rad an und lassen es mit vollem Lauf in das Tal laufen. Das gleich an zu sehen ist, als ob die Sonne von dem Himmel lief.“ = "They weave a wagon wheel full of straw, carry it up a high mountain, and, if they can stand the cold, stay there all day in good spirits, enjoying all kinds of entertainment, singing, jumping, dancing. Around vespers, they light the wheel and let it roll full speed down into the valley. It looks as if the sun is running from the sky." Rolling a fire wheel down a mountain or hill is a folk custom that is still practiced today at Christmas, New Year, Carnival, Easter, and Pentecost by communities in Lipperland, Friuli, Odenwald, Sauerland, Spessart, Ticino, Tyrol, and Weserbergland, among others. It is believed that in pre-Christian times, the fire wheel was a spring custom associated with the equinox, which after Christianization split into two traditions: one associated with Lent in southwestern Germany and one associated with Easter in northern Germany.
So what has this to do with Nazis? Nothing! But they used this as a picture for their revolution when they fought against and overthrew the newly born democracy in Germany after a long period of turmoil. The swastika became their "fire wheel" which should engulf the world with the fire of their worldview and destroy everything that did not conform to their worldview.
Heinrich Himmler - who was made from Adolf Hitler to be the boss of the SS and every policeman in Germany and who had been the executor of the holocaust - made the symbol which you can see in the background of the first picture onto the floor of his headquarter - the very old castle Wewelsburg. After world war 2 it was suddenly called "the black sun" - but the Nazis never used this expression. I assume it had no special name - it was just simple a symbol for rolling Nazi-swastikas bringing death and destruction over the world.
August, the shepherd, heard wolves,
wolves in the middle of May
— only two,
but the shepherd swears
they howled together the song of prey,
the one from earlier times,
and he cries out,
and his hat is dented.
He cries, "Quick, fetch the scythes, or it will be too late.
Kill them before the rooster crows three times."
But who listens to an old hat
and is on guard - and is on guard.
August the shepherd was never seen again,
only his old hat,
full of blood,
floating in the stream. About ten
later, the village witch child
discovered them at night in the quarry,
bloodstained
and their snouts in the wind.
The mother cast a spell on the child's mouth,
whispering: "Be quiet or you'll die.
Those who do not forget the evil wolf, my child,
will always remain children - will always remain children."
Already dogs were sniffing the wind, and in the hedge
roses smelled of carrion.
No pig ate.
Owls hunted during the day.
Chickens buried their eggs in the sand,
bacon in their mouths became soft,
carp crawled out of the pond
onto land.
Then the old men laughed toothlessly
and hissed: "We told you so.
Fertilize the fields with old manure again,
otherwise everything will be manure - otherwise everything will be manure."
Then, on St. John's Day, during the fire dance
- no one knows how anymore -
they were
suddenly there. From the branches
they jumped into the dance circle; too fast
the brides bit into the grass,
and too pale
the moon seemed; but bright,
bright burned the fire from dry moss,
burned the forest down to the river.
"Children, play, we know nothing of the smoke there
and smell nothing either—and smell nothing either."
"Now times are coming when it's time to get
the gold out of your mouths.
Be smart and
dig trenches around your houses.
Give your daughters to the roughest farmhand,
the one who, even in an emergency,
doesn't just break bread
with his teeth."
So sang the grubby vendor with his tray,
praising amulets made from wolf teeth.
"Wrap straw and barbed wire around your necks
and hold your necks—and hold your necks."
What happened in the houses then?
Bites in beams and beds.
What fat
smeared the chimney?
Who gave the wolves the chalk, the flour,
dusted their paws white?
Which goat
resembled the goat's bark?
And did a seventh little goat hide?
Were cobblestones discovered in the well?
Many questions that only one person wants to hear,
who wants to disturb—who wants to disturb.
But that farmhand with the wild boar disease
—now a tourist destination—
knows how much
happened there. But cheekily
he squats in his cage, eats blood sausage and laughs
when asked. And only
at the stroke of midnight
on St. John's Night,
when the fire wheel jumps from the mountains,
the crowd of tourists happily sings the feast song,
does he bite wildly at the bars and shout: "Stop the song,
it's a nasty song - it's a nasty song."
August, the shepherd, heard wolves,
wolves in the middle of May
—more than two—
but the shepherd swears
they howled together the song of prey,
the one from earlier times,
and he cries out,
and his hat is dented.
He cries: "Quick, fetch the scythes, or it will be too late.
Kill them before the rooster crows three times."
But who listens to an old hat
and is on guard—and is on guard.
imperialism , that's why 
