It was now the morning of Midsummer eve. I had caught a train to a city where I once lived for one summer, and met a group of friends at the railway station. The plan was simple. We would spend midsummer eve at the summer cottage of my friend’s grandparents doing the traditional things: eating, going to sauna and perhaps lighting a small bonfire. The following day I could borrow the second car of my friend’s parents and could go exploring my way in the region.
When we were returning from the cottage, we already found the first location.
Back when I lived in the region in 2010, this mill was still operating. Apparently it closed in the 2010’s.
All open doors. And a lot of grain.
A messy photo which I didn’t delete for some reason.
Interesting machinery.
The place was in a surprisingly worn out condition despite having closed just a few years earlier.
It was also in a pretty original shape.
Most of the building’s windows had been smashed including those on the inside.
The office door.
Barley flour labels. I’ve removed the name of the location.
The small office room.
A telephone book from 1998.
Everything here looked pretty old fashioned.
There was grain all over the floor.
There wasn’t much to see downstairs. The logical step would be to go up at this point.
The final unexplored corner downstairs.
A scale.
So, up we go.
A boat was stored in the back yard.
A view towards the ground floor we just finished exploring.