A memoir chapter THE BARNS The injury as hinge I used to play in the barns as a kid. Childhood memories. Formative experiences. If anyone asks what turned me to the goth subculture, it is probably this, imprinted. Crumbling whitewash on top of ancient stone, the surface coming away to dust a centimetre deep. Cobwebs. Ancient cobwebs holding whitewash and stone dust in their nets. The spiders had abandoned the place. I hunted them and found some. Overcoming the fear of them. You never really do. It is hardwired into us from a time in evolution when we were tiny rodent-monkeys and spiders were bigger than they are now. That is probably a factor in my love of the Alien films, and of AvP. There were four barns. One was modern: corrugated sheet metal and plastic walls on a light metal frame. The others were like castles, but not as old. Dark. Disused. Full of interesting stuff. Old farm machines, some made of wood from the late nineteenth century, some made of metal from the early twe...