The hero and his follower arrived at the battlefield. Who knew what would happen next ... There, both of them waited for the first movement of the windmills to start their attack against the sailplanes...
Pablo Picasso, 1955, Don Quichotte de la Mancha
Don Quichotte was tired and his horse Rocinante was feeling so helpful for supporting the delegate figure of his master. His armour weighted probably more than him. Nevertheless, he was prepared for the battle of his life, the battle for his love, the battle with his mind.
Sancho Panza was resting on his poor donkey Dapple, resting all the time. He was to follow his master on his attack, but secretly hoping that the battle – whichever kind of battle – would finish before he got closer.
The windmills themselves had no place to hide, to withdraw, to step back, away from the furious knight that was coming for them. They were innocent, they had never kidnapped Donna Dulcinea, they could only play with the wind and with the birds sometimes. They seemed so small in front of him; his figure on the horse there at the top of the hill was so scary!
The two warriors quitted their horses to oversee the valley below, to inspect their enemy, to take a breath and rest before the battle.
…And then, something saved the windmills. Their companion at life, air, came fast and hugged them and pulled them upwards and mixed them with the birds and mirrors they became under the sun.
Chbalk, 10/5/2018, The flight of the windmils,
(Pencil HB, in SketchBook for Galaxy)
No enemy ahead, no bad guys to fight, his love was somewhere else, in the utopia of his mindd.