You don’t have to choose to leave the place you were born – sometimes you are pushed. And sometimes you are claimed. Angela Natividad, who grew up in California, meditates on how Paris claimed her.

What meaning would you weave from a language you can't comprehend? And what are the parrot and the night calling out for? Kate Hewett's short story asks what might have been lost when we moved from an oral to a written culture.

'Slow down time crescent moon / everything we feel / as the year continues its turn / is offered in the afterglow / of starlight from the beginning.' Daphne Astor broods as dusk falls.

Kristen Butera shares joyful reflections of the autumn woods in Vermont, USA, filled with wiggly tree spirits, colourful water fairies and cheeky wind sprites.

A poem to Grendel's mother, dangerous to the warrior Beowulf, revenging her son's death. Translators have not been kind to this woman, but Sarah Acton finds her fierce and strong.

'Hello. Thanks for giving yourself to me: from tree, and the tree that begat that, and on, and on, to the beginning of walnut-time': Dominic Orr tells a tale in a nutshell.

What if here, at the edge, is where the action is? Photographs by Bristol-based artist Esther May Campbell. Through autumn 2020, Esther took a group of youngsters into the woods from dusk until night to tell stories and create pictures.

Time passes in a flash when you are in the Otherworld and two hours can seem like five minutes. Join Sara Hudston and Russell the horse on a two-hour ride on Dartmoor in a film lasting five minutes.