It was pouring water from the sky as we sat in our rental car, windows collecting fog. Front of us was a fancy-looking restaurant in which we had no business with our muddy boots and heavy jackets. It was dark and the only light was coming from a smartphone map which showed that we should go past the restaurant, couple hundred meters through the woods and we would be there. Back home, we had spent quite some time to find this particular chateau and making sure that it would still be there when we arrived. It was all looking good. This would be reconnaissance for tomorrow, the actual photography day, and it was good that it was dark. Off we went, to the rain.
The chateau was like a small iceberg, faceless form drifting without a destination. As we reached the building, we saw a small open door and entered without hesitation. Walls covered us from the rain, and from possible curious glances. We turned our flashlights on and realized that we were in the basement. Long corridor had doors both ways away from us but we had only one door in mind - the one leading upstairs. I stepped over some rusty kitchen junk thinking how I ended here, in rotting Belgian manor house in the middle of the night. It didn’t take us long to find small staircase to the upper floors. We entered the main floor through a narrow staircase and saw forms familiar to us from photos and videos, but now it was dark. There were no colours, no sad mood, only items in artificial light. Curtains, fireplaces, stools were there, just like we had imagined. Even the dusty menu of the restaurant was there. We had reached our destination.
Next day we came back, fully geared, ready.