Belonging begins with a beautiful collage view looking through a window into a front yard at a couple holding a baby. With each turn of the page, a year passes, and the view slowly changes in the most wonderful way. What starts with inner city suburbia – every spare space an ad, the graffiti of the discontent fracturing the dull greys of the cracked tired concrete – starts to gradually evolve: the cemented front yard becomes a lawn; the used car business across the road becomes an empty lot which eventually becomes a green, welcoming community space.

As an adult reading Belonging, I find peace in how it reflects the comfort of an organic community working together to make their space better, but as an anxious child I found Belonging felt good to read in ways I couldn’t articulate; I now know it’s the way it quietly shows its reader that big changes can be positive and calm. I would stare at this wordless picture book for hours, soaking it in, scrutinising every page for every change no matter how big or subtle; I didn’t want to miss a thing. I’d try to work out the mysteries of her magical collages and even tried to make my own! Belonging is a work of magic perfect for kids 3+.