On H. Hawkline’s fifth solo album, beauty flourishes in the corners of grief’s desecrated church; jewelling the cobwebs, gilding the dust, and making a relic of its creator’s arrow-shot heart.

Brought to being in Huw Evans’ hometown of Cardiff, the writing of Milk for Flowers served as the outlet for several dances with the violence of life — a spate of significant events which took his “spectrum of emotion and experience suddenly widescreen”.