The what?

The photo was made in The Netherlands October 2008. I was visiting a windmill in one of the small cities in the country. I climbed up to see what's there is to see within a windmill in work, when I came accross this sight. I was forced to look and perceive a sight not so special and perhaps, not so intereseting. I made some other photos of this abandoned building. I don't know the reason. I just had to. It sucked me in.
My forewords are to remember this situation. The words beneath the photo I gathered today in an attempt to turn this something I feel inside out. It is definitely borne by the photo, and perhaps something I still have inside. Enjoy. Or whatever.




The smell of mould. The touch of aluminum. Cold and tough beneath the inside of his broken palm.
A cigarette might help.
A car turned around the corner down on the street. He lowered himself on the gravel. Each and every little stone in the concrete reached to his leg. Some of them felt smooth, some had shrieking edges. Too much information.
He forced the paper between his parched lips and took a long sniff. It was not lit.
Behind the curtain of my eyes a howling approaches.
Numbing illusions to minimum, screwing up perceptions to maximum. Too much.
If I could only break the bars.
Out of the cage.
His stomach shivered. The scree attained his flesh, his tendons, his bones underneath.
The lighter in his pocket. With hands shaking the let the little dancing flow of fire meet the end of the roll. A tip of flame kissed his fingers, piercing dry skin. He hardly noticed the smell of burning flesh.
Finally. Out with you all.
The flow took him up and above. Out of the cage.