Reminds me of High school and the giant, rusty windmill which dominated the set of one of the shows I worked on. The theater was drafty and the windmill used to catch the draft and spin, and creak, very slowly. In one scene of the play violence breaks out and the Corrupt Governor is hanged from the windmill. The theater was always silent at the end of the act, and the creaking windmill and red back lights silhouetting the body and slowly spinning windmill made the scene very visceral.
I want to go there. At dusk, when the sky is that color. To see the wind slowly turning those blades...
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