‘I was told not to go to St Charles as it was too dangerous. I went and was struck by how free the kids are. They’re not afraid of the region’s rattlesnakes’

I visited the Appalachian mountains for the first time in my mid-20s, after deciding I needed to get away from my inner circle in Sweden to find my way into photography. I felt I had to be by myself, just responding to things happening around me and not thinking about my daily life.

America played a big part in my family history, and the Appalachians called to me in particular because at that time, around 2006, I’d been listening to a lot of bluegrass music . I wanted to get closer to people who lived in the place where it originated – music has always been a big inspiration for me. While driving in the mountains with no particular destination in mind, I met a social worker who told me: “Whatever you do, don’t go to St Charles.” She said something about it being too dangerous, which made me curious.

‘I was told not to go to St Charles as it was too dangerous. I went and was struck by how free the kids are. They’re not afraid of the region’s rattlesnakes’

I visited the Appalachian mountains for the first time in my mid-20s, after deciding I needed to get away from my inner circle in Sweden to find my way into photography. I felt I had to be by myself, just responding to things happening around me and not thinking about my daily life.

America played a big part in my family history, and the Appalachians called to me in particular because at that time, around 2006, I’d been listening to a lot of bluegrass music . I wanted to get closer to people who lived in the place where it originated – music has always been a big inspiration for me. While driving in the mountains with no particular destination in mind, I met a social worker who told me: “Whatever you do, don’t go to St Charles.” She said something about it being too dangerous, which made me curious.

‘I was told not to go to St Charles as it was too dangerous. I went and was struck by how free the kids are. They’re not afraid of the region’s rattlesnakes’

I visited the Appalachian mountains for the first time in my mid-20s, after deciding I needed to get away from my inner circle in Sweden to find my way into photography. I felt I had to be by myself, just responding to things happening around me and not thinking about my daily life.

America played a big part in my family history, and the Appalachians called to me in particular because at that time, around 2006, I’d been listening to a lot of bluegrass music . I wanted to get closer to people who lived in the place where it originated – music has always been a big inspiration for me. While driving in the mountains with no particular destination in mind, I met a social worker who told me: “Whatever you do, don’t go to St Charles.” She said something about it being too dangerous, which made me curious.

From dark, sound-proofed rooms to clever storage solutions, families with autism and ADHD are finding inspired ways to adjust their environments

In the middle of Cherie Clonan’s bright Melbourne home sits a room in total darkness, “for our son to retreat to”, she says. “It’s all black in there. You wouldn’t believe it’s the same home!”

The space, lined with sound-blocking panels, is a sanctuary for her autistic son: a quiet cocoon for decompressing after school. “He loves to go in there to game online with his mates,” Clonan says.

Diagnosed autistic at 37, Clonan lives in a weatherboard cottage with her husband, Chris, and her two neurodivergent teenagers. Since buying the house five years ago, she has been reshaping it around their needs. “Our family’s split half-half – 50% sensory-seek versus sensory-avoidant,” she says. “I chase light. I love light-filled everything. But my son really is the opposite.”

From dark, sound-proofed rooms to clever storage solutions, families with autism and ADHD are finding inspired ways to adjust their environments

In the middle of Cherie Clonan’s bright Melbourne home sits a room in total darkness, “for our son to retreat to”, she says. “It’s all black in there. You wouldn’t believe it’s the same home!”

The space, lined with sound-blocking panels, is a sanctuary for her autistic son: a quiet cocoon for decompressing after school. “He loves to go in there to game online with his mates,” Clonan says.

Diagnosed autistic at 37, Clonan lives in a weatherboard cottage with her husband, Chris, and her two neurodivergent teenagers. Since buying the house five years ago, she has been reshaping it around their needs. “Our family’s split half-half – 50% sensory-seek versus sensory-avoidant,” she says. “I chase light. I love light-filled everything. But my son really is the opposite.”

From dark, sound-proofed rooms to clever storage solutions, families with autism and ADHD are finding inspired ways to adjust their environments

In the middle of Cherie Clonan’s bright Melbourne home sits a room in total darkness, “for our son to retreat to”, she says. “It’s all black in there. You wouldn’t believe it’s the same home!”

The space, lined with sound-blocking panels, is a sanctuary for her autistic son: a quiet cocoon for decompressing after school. “He loves to go in there to game online with his mates,” Clonan says.

Diagnosed autistic at 37, Clonan lives in a weatherboard cottage with her husband, Chris, and her two neurodivergent teenagers. Since buying the house five years ago, she has been reshaping it around their needs. “Our family’s split half-half – 50% sensory-seek versus sensory-avoidant,” she says. “I chase light. I love light-filled everything. But my son really is the opposite.”

They face long hours, mediocre pay and, at worst, no job, but their optimism is astonishing – let’s support them better

• Prof Devi Sridhar is chair of global public health at the University of Edinburgh

When I mentioned to colleagues in the NHS that I was helping with admissions interviews for medical students, several responded with the same wry smile and weary shrug: “Do they know what they’re getting into?” Anyone working with the health service over the past few decades has seen the job conditions get tougher, salaries stagnate and idealism erode within a crumbling system. Brexit, Covid, austerity and the rise in the cost of living haven’t helped.

From the students’ perspectives, they’ve gone through a lot to get here too. Not just the usual high-level academic performance and résumé-building either. This is a group who dealt with school closures and lockdowns during impressionable years, many come from crowded schools with little support and coaching, and yet they’ve found a way to persevere.

Prof Devi Sridhar is chair of global public health at the University of Edinburgh

They face long hours, mediocre pay and, at worst, no job, but their optimism is astonishing – let’s support them better

• Prof Devi Sridhar is chair of global public health at the University of Edinburgh

When I mentioned to colleagues in the NHS that I was helping with admissions interviews for medical students, several responded with the same wry smile and weary shrug: “Do they know what they’re getting into?” Anyone working with the health service over the past few decades has seen the job conditions get tougher, salaries stagnate and idealism erode within a crumbling system. Brexit, Covid, austerity and the rise in the cost of living haven’t helped.

From the students’ perspectives, they’ve gone through a lot to get here too. Not just the usual high-level academic performance and résumé-building either. This is a group who dealt with school closures and lockdowns during impressionable years, many come from crowded schools with little support and coaching, and yet they’ve found a way to persevere.

Prof Devi Sridhar is chair of global public health at the University of Edinburgh

They face long hours, mediocre pay and, at worst, no job, but their optimism is astonishing – let’s support them better

• Prof Devi Sridhar is chair of global public health at the University of Edinburgh

When I mentioned to colleagues in the NHS that I was helping with admissions interviews for medical students, several responded with the same wry smile and weary shrug: “Do they know what they’re getting into?” Anyone working with the health service over the past few decades has seen the job conditions get tougher, salaries stagnate and idealism erode within a crumbling system. Brexit, Covid, austerity and the rise in the cost of living haven’t helped.

From the students’ perspectives, they’ve gone through a lot to get here too. Not just the usual high-level academic performance and résumé-building either. This is a group who dealt with school closures and lockdowns during impressionable years, many come from crowded schools with little support and coaching, and yet they’ve found a way to persevere.

Prof Devi Sridhar is chair of global public health at the University of Edinburgh