By Gen Sandalls

I enter the flock’s habitat, to note a mixed group of corvids scattering at my approach, lifting up like a ragged black cloak roused by the wind. The birds are taking no chances.

By Marcel Krueger

I struggle with getting older. Not in an expensive-motorbike-and-young-mistress-type midlife crisis, but with the strange effects of time and nostalgia that only seem to amplify the older I get.

By Anna Polonyi

There’s a Hungarian version of King Lear I grew up with: an old, short-tempered king summons his three daughters to ask how much they love him. The two eldest vie to outperform each other with flowery language, but the youngest simply says: “I love you as much as salt itself.”

by Clarisse Van Kote

I am standing in line at the gate, waiting to board my connecting flight. There are no direct flights between New York and Lyon, it is always a two-step journey in the dance between my countries, long hours spent in various European city airports.