In 2021 I returned to look again at this space. I was haunted by Hansel and Gretel, they were abandoned by their parents and left a trail of breadcrumbs to find a way home. The need to find a way home to our parents, even if they are cruel, is a survival instinct. We attach, for without this we would die.

In the fairytale woods, they come across an old lady who has a house made of sweets but she is a wolf in sheep's clothing. In my version she had two husbands, I added the wolf too, and a group of family members, their friends and a doctor. A whole group of paedophiles.

Gretel wears a red cape and it lies on the floor of my wardrobe, discarded now. The house is not made of sweets but in the kitchen, there is jam and coconut tart as a reward. There is no happy ending.

In the real forest, I found the woodshed, the ribbon tied to a tree and the signposts with yellow paint. I followed the paint marks and got lost. My dog took me back to the path.

To find healing we must purge the demons. Trauma is hidden in the body and the body keeps the score. My challenge is to let go, so I photograph others and ask how they release pain. It turns out to be a complex journey. I think we are all so brave for when we empty the trauma out, we make a void, and that is something we have to fill with peace and acceptance. Their stories of transformation are Feathers of Hope