I believe that inside the barn is the whole different universe and a different time zone. You enter this universe and you are lost among old long chains, ropes, different tools, nails, generations of different pocketknives, a few old rusty bikes, old tires, rubber boots, layers of dust and broken tires.
Barn has a smell. It smells of hay and sometimes of horses, it smells of breezy mornings and beautiful sunsets. Am I imaging all of this? Of course, I do. I was only once in a barn and remember a few things I didn’t mentioned above; there were a lot of broken chairs and an old sewing machine, piles of tools on the old tables and old machinery I have never seen before.