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Hiraeth and Hwyl: Backwater Boy by Manoel de Barros (translated by Malcolm K McNee)
My grandpa courted the solitude.
He was a bouquet of lonesomeness.![]()
Hiraeth and Hwyl: The Sea of Content by Kumari Tilakawardane
The ocean doesn’t care one iota about you, or your body, your mind, your problems or your poorly thought-out grudges.
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Hiraeth and Hwyl: Neighbours/Cymdogion by Marged Pendrell
New work, a flotilla of boats constructed from the natural minerals of Snowdonia.
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Hiraeth and Hwyl: Vanish by Kathy Miles
Maps are useless now, in a world of blinded
signs. Mountains pull up roots, drift away
to the vanishing point like wandering erratics.![]()
Hiraeth and Hwyl: The Home Path by Jane Brox
There is a lot for me to love in this town along a harder, colder coast.
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Hiraeth and Hwyl: Escaping Ophelia by Richard Taylor
Abduction from a dream takes time tugging,
as love does![]()
Hiraeth and Hwyl: Last Gilt by Menna Elfyn
In her spell on the air, on a wing, fierce rain.
Breath soared over clouds, crossing time as in heaven![]()
Hiraeth and Hwyl: Ketamine Dreams by Sophie Willard Van Sistine
The artist Sophie Willard Van Sistine reflects on the impact of the medication she takes for her chronic depression in this brilliant and personal visual essay
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Hiraeth and Hwyl: an introduction by Pamela Petro
Hiraeth is the name the Welsh have given to the gap, the space—call it ‘the long field’—between my two experiences of home.
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Remembrance to the boar by Chloe Broadfield
My identity, as much as theirs, is entangled with the mountain rock and the wild thyme, the ibex and the boar.
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Lincolnshire Voices: a photographic coda by Neil Sentance
Now there was a general air of dereliction, as if the mellowed bricks knew they’d soon be demolished to red dust.
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Extracts from a Nature Journal by Alex Boon
The heath full of leggy looking foxgloves coming to their end.
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