The Old Mill

Hohenstein, Germany

The old mill has been a constant thread in my life – woven with memories, loss, and renewal. 

Built in 1534, it became part of my family’s story when my great-grandparents purchased it in 1919. 

My grandparents lived here their entire lives. As a child, I spent countless hours exploring its rooms, its hidden corners, 

and the land that surrounded it. To me, it was a place of magic – where history whispered through the worn wooden beams 

and the steady hum of the nearby stream.  

I began photographing the mill in 2010 during my visits to Germany, unknowingly capturing a place on the brink of change. 

In March 2011, a devastating fire broke out on the upper floor, tragically claiming my grandmother’s life. 

The house, once filled with warmth and tradition, stood charred and uncertain. 

I returned, documenting its fragile existence. 

Every image became a way to process grief, to hold onto something slipping away. 

At that time, the mill’s future was unknown.  

Within its walls lie the imprints of generations – hidden treasures of bygone days, echoes of lives lived before mine. 

The mill carries its scars, but it also carries resilience. 

Today, we are incredibly grateful to call this historic mill our home.

Through my photography, I continue to explore the intersection of history, memory, and place. 

The old mill is more than a structure; it is a witness to time, a keeper of stories, 

and a testament to the way the past shapes our present.