From low and hillocky to grand and dramatic, the hills of borderland share a strange compelling atmosphere.

Dotted with fortifications, from Iron Age hill fort to medieval motte and bailey, they tell of the unceasing need to be defensive and watchful. Over millennia, this history of invasion  has left them steeped in an unsettled sense of frozen time. As though the ancient past is present still, just hanging in the air. Looking east, down over open farmland, villages with Welsh place names sit adjacent to neighbours with English ones, telling us where the last of the battles were fought, and where land was lost or won. And later, where the border would run.