Date
Dublin
CountryIreland
- Reading
- 20 min
- Words
- 4,646
- Images
- 40
On this day I discovered one of my most revered locations on the planet: Windmill Lane in Dublin, Ireland, home to U2’s legendary Windmill Lane Studio, where they recorded many of their albums.
I couldn’t believe I was actually there, taking pictures of the very spot where U2 created the music that had been with me since I was 14 years old, when I first saw them on MTV in 1985. That same music kept me company as an exchange student in Australia in 1988–89, through my time at Arizona State University, and during those dark days at UNK. It was the soundtrack of my life.
I had even seen them live three times on the Zoo TV tour — in Tempe when I was at ASU, and at the big outdoor shows in Ames, Iowa and Denver, Colorado with my Dome Crew brother Tim “Skratch” Skrastins.
And now, on September 9, 1994, I would discover Windmill Lane, see it with my own eyes, walk along it, touch the walls, even leave my own graffiti — the whole time taking pictures to prove I was really there.
This was one of the greatest days of my life — but it started off as one of the worst!
Windmill Lane – U2’s Sacred Ground
This is Windmill Lane, home to U2’s legendary Windmill Lane Studio — the place where they recorded some of their most iconic albums, including The Joshua Tree and Rattle and Hum.
For years I had dreamed of standing on this exact spot, and I had no idea that it would look like this. The walls were completely covered in layers of graffiti from fans who had made the pilgrimage before me. I walked slowly, taking it all in, running my hands along the stones, and eventually leaving my own mark among the thousands of others.
This wasn’t just a street. This was sacred ground. The birthplace of music that had carried me, comforted me, and given me hope throughout my life.
My Photographs from today in Dublin
-
Strolling Past The St. George Get this as a printThe rain was coming down as I walked through Dublin, and I passed this beautiful Georgian townhouse with “The St. George” above the doorway. An older gentleman stood quietly inside, hands in his pockets, watching the world go by.
There was something timeless about the scene — the rain on the stone, the quiet old building and the man who seemed completely at home in it.
-
Boys Will Be Boys Get this as a printIn a forgotten corner of Dublin, these two boys had turned a pile of rubble and abandoned buildings into their playground. One proudly held a stick while the other crouched nearby, completely absorbed in whatever game they were playing.
Surrounded by decay, they didn't seem to care. They were just being kids.
-
Up The IRA - Welcome to Hell Get this as a print“Up the IRA” was a common Irish republican slogan, supporting the Irish Republican Army during the Troubles.
I'd read about the conflict for years, and U2's music had brought much of it into my consciousness. But standing in Dublin in 1994, looking at those words painted on a wall, made the history feel very different.
This wasn't something I'd read about in a book anymore. It was still alive on the streets.
-
Rush Hour Traffic in Dublin Get this as a printDublin was alive with movement — double-decker buses, cars splashing through puddles and pedestrians hurrying along wet sidewalks.
I stopped for a moment to photograph the rush-hour rhythm of the city, then kept moving. I was on a mission.
-
Following the Graffiti Get this as a printAs I continued through Dublin, I started noticing U2 graffiti everywhere. Names, symbols and messages covered the walls, and I began following them like a trail through the backstreets.
Then I saw this.
-
Finally — Windmill Lane Get this as a printAfter wandering through backstreets and following the graffiti, I finally spotted it — a small street sign high on the side of a building:
WINDMILL LANE
My heart jumped. I had been looking for this exact spot all day.
This was it.
The legendary street I'd dreamed about for years. The place where U2 recorded some of the most important music of my life.
I stood there for a moment, taking it in, knowing I was finally here.
-
The Wall That Spoke Get this as a printI stood in front of this wall for a long time.
It was covered in names, messages, hearts and declarations from fans who had traveled from all over the world to leave their mark at Windmill Lane.
I saw “U2,” “PRIDE,” “FREEDOM,” “TOGETHER” and even “UP THE IRA.”
Every name seemed to say the same thing:
I was here. This music mattered to me.
-
Until the End of the World Get this as a printI turned the corner and froze.
“U2” was painted across the wet pavement, and just ahead someone had written:
BONO — UNTIL THE END OF THE WORLD
That phrase hit me immediately. Until the End of the World was one of my favorite songs from Achtung Baby, and here it was painted right on the street beneath my feet.
I stood there in the rain, camera in hand, feeling like I had somehow arrived exactly where I was supposed to be.
-
With or Without You Get this as a printI worked hard to compose this frame, using the staircases to frame the words WITH OR WITHOUT YOU.
It felt like the perfect visual metaphor for one of U2's most powerful songs.
By now, every surface of Windmill Lane seemed to carry someone's message. The walls weren't just covered in graffiti — they were covered in people's stories.
-
The Zooropa Face Get this as a printI could barely believe my eyes when I saw this.
Right in the middle of Windmill Lane sat this big, black metal utility box — completely covered in messages from fans. But the star of the show was this giant, hand-painted U2 logo with a wild little cartoon face staring back at me.
This wasn’t just any graffiti. This was the official Zooropa mascot — the stylized “U2” character with the big eyes and mischievous expression that became the visual heart of the Zooropa album and tour in 1993. It felt playful, a little surreal, and totally European — exactly like the music on that record.
Standing there in 1994, I was looking at something that had only been released the year before. The Zooropa tour was still rolling, and this little character had already become a symbol for fans around the world. Someone had taken the time to paint it perfectly on this box, turning an ordinary piece of street furniture into a shrine.
I kept clicking the shutter. The more I looked, the more I saw — dates from just weeks earlier, messages in different languages, hearts, names, and declarations of love.
-
Love Is Blindness Get this as a printRight there on the wet pavement, someone had painted one of the rawest, most haunting lines from Achtung Baby:
TAKE THE MONEY HONEY — IT’S BLINDNESS…
“Love Is Blindness” is the final track on the album — a slow, aching song about how love can make you ignore the truth, how obsession can blind you to everything else. It’s dark, it’s desperate, and it’s beautiful.
Seeing that lyric written on the ground at Windmill Lane felt strangely perfect. These fans had followed their love of this music all the way here — sometimes at great personal cost — just like I had. We were all a little blind in the best possible way. Blind to the distance, blind to the expense, blind to anything that would have kept us from standing exactly where we were standing.
I captured this scene quietly, feeling the weight of it.
-
No Place Off Limits Get this as a printEven the parking and transport company wasn't safe.
“VERONA BELIEVES U2.”
“DENISE.T.”
“BARBARA.T.”
“CHRIS.”
The official “24 HOUR PARKING” sign above it seemed almost beside the point.
No place was off limits.
-
Rock and Stroll Get this as a printI had been photographing Dublin in black and white all day. Then, standing here, I did something I'd been waiting to do since I first saw Windmill Lane:
I switched to color film.
It reminded me of Rattle and Hum, when the film suddenly bursts from black and white into color as “Where the Streets Have No Name” explodes at Sun Devil Stadium.
That's exactly how this moment felt.
From here on, Windmill Lane was going to be in color.
-
Swallowed by the Fans Get this as a printZooming back, the official “Rock ’N’ Stroll Trail” marker almost disappears.
The wall around it had been completely swallowed by U2 graffiti — giant letters, names, hearts and messages in every color imaginable.
The official history was being overwhelmed by the fans' version of history.
I loved that.
-
The Wall That Heard It All Get this as a printWindmill Lane Studios was just behind this wall — the place where U2 recorded some of the music that had shaped my life.
But U2 wasn't the only legendary band to pass through those doors. The Cranberries, Sinéad O'Connor, Van Morrison, Thin Lizzy and The Pogues all recorded here too.
Looking at this wall, covered with messages from fans around the world, I felt the connection between the people who made the music and the people who carried it with them.
-
Love Rescue Me Get this as a printRight in the middle of all that chaos, someone had painted the words in enormous letters.
I couldn't resist framing it.
-
You Rescued Me Get this as a printI leaned in close.
The big messages on the wall were powerful from a distance, but up close, the wall became something much more intimate. Right there in front of me, someone had written in careful, deliberate letters:
U2 RESCUED ME
Not “we” or “they” — a direct, personal conversation with the song “Love Rescue Me.”
Below it, three names written in the same hand:
DANIXAVIJORGE
These weren’t random tags. These were real people — likely from Spain or Latin America — who had traveled across the world to stand in this exact spot and leave their names next to a message of rescue and gratitude.
I stood there for a long time, just inches from the wall, feeling the texture of the concrete and the weight of every single name. Each one represented someone who had once been lost at sea, just like me, and had found their way here.
This was the real magic of Windmill Lane.
-
Whispers on the Shutter Get this as a printNot every message on Windmill Lane was shouted in giant spray-painted letters.
This shutter was covered in small, handwritten notes — some sweet, some strange, some hilarious and some decidedly personal.
“MY LOVELY BONO, COME BACK FROM FRANCE.”
“LARRY ♡ YA WITHOUT CLOTHES.”
“ALL I WANT IS U2.”
The big walls shouted. This shutter whispered.
I liked that.
-
Carol Was Here Get this as a printThis one hit me like a punch to the chest.
ASU SUN DEVIL STADIUM
10/24/92
CAROL WAS THERE!
NOW I'M HERE
3/31/93Carol had been at the Zoo TV show at Sun Devil Stadium. I had seen U2 at ASU too. And I had lived, partied and eventually fallen apart at that university.
Now, months later, here was Carol in Dublin — another stranger who had stood where I had stood and loved the same music.
I felt an instant connection to her.
Carol was there. And now… so was I.
-
Carol Was There — Look How High Get this as a printI wanted to show just how high Carol had managed to put her message.
When these two boys walked by, I asked them to pose for me.
Suddenly the scale of the wall became obvious — two Dublin kids standing beneath a message from an American fan who had come here before me.
-
Pride on the Pavement Get this as a printEven the pavement had become part of the canvas.
U2 PRIDE
Someone had painted the words directly onto the wet street, surrounded by other names, dates and messages.
By now, there wasn't much left on Windmill Lane that hadn't become a place for someone to say:
I was here.
-
The Explosion Get this as a printThis was the frame that summed up the whole experience, that describes when I turned the corner and my heart soared.
The entire street had exploded into color. Every wall, every orange door, every inch of wet pavement — covered in names, hearts, dates, lyrics, and declarations from fans who had traveled from every corner of the world. Blue tags, yellow names, red hearts, green messages — it was chaos and beauty and pure, unfiltered love all at once.
I had been walking these streets for hours, reading messages one by one, feeling the connection grow. But standing back and seeing the full scale of it… I finally understood.
This wasn’t just graffiti. This was a global family, all saying the same thing in their own way:
We love this music. We made the journey. We are here.
And so was I.
-
Jesus Loves U2 — and U2 Loves Jesus Get this as a printThis section wasn’t just covered in names and messages — it was covered in faith.
Right in the center, painted in big blue letters across a bright orange door, someone had written: JESUS LOVES U2
There were crosses, “GOD BLESS THEM ALL!”, hearts, and the familiar Zooropa face from Achtung Baby staring back from the wall. Messages from Germany, Spain, and everywhere in between were layered on top of each other like prayers.
It felt strangely beautiful — a place where love for the band and love for something much bigger had completely merged.
U2’s music has always been soaked in biblical imagery and spiritual searching. “Where the Streets Have No Name” has long been interpreted as a vision of Heaven, with the final plea, “I want to go there with you,” sounding like a prayer. “40” (which takes its title and lyrics directly from Psalm 40) introduced countless fans — including me — to the Book of Psalms. “Until the End of the World” retells the story of Jesus’ betrayal from Judas’ perspective. Songs like “One,” “I Will Follow,” “Last Night on Earth,” and “If God Will Send His Angels” all wrestle with surrender, redemption, love, grace, and the longing for divine help.
Standing here, I felt the full weight of it. These fans, just like me, weren’t just worshipping a band. They were finding something higher here — the same way I had.
-
Until The End of the World Get this as a printThe pavement itself had become a canvas. Right there in giant yellow letters, someone had painted:
BONO UNTIL THE END OF THE WORLD
It was the title of one of U2’s most powerful songs from Achtung Baby — a dark, aching track about betrayal, loyalty, and the kind of love that costs everything. It tells the story of Judas and Jesus from Judas’ perspective — the ultimate act of surrender and regret.
Looking at that massive message painted directly on the ground, I felt the full weight of it. These fans weren’t just leaving names. They were making vows. The same vow I felt burning in my own chest: This music, this connection, this journey — it’s with me until the end of the world.
The walls on both sides were completely covered in layer upon layer of messages from every corner of the planet. It felt less like a street and more like a living shrine.
I stood there in the rain, camera in hand, feeling the weight of it all. I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
-
Anna's Heart Is Here Get this as a printI stopped in front of this section and smiled.
Right in the center was a bold red stencil of Bono’s face — sunglasses on, looking cool and slightly mysterious. Above it, someone had written in big letters:
THANKS U2
02.09.94
VOLKER + ELMERJust below the stencil, in smaller handwriting:
CIAO BONO
ANNA’S HEART IS HEREThese weren’t the giant, shouting messages I’d seen on the big walls. These were quieter, more personal — almost like love notes left for the band, or for each other. “Bono Heart Is Here” felt especially sweet. Someone named Anna had traveled here, stood in this exact spot, and wanted the world (and Bono) to know her heart was with him.
The date “02.09.94” was only a few days before I arrived. These messages were fresh. The energy was still in the air.
It made the whole place feel even more alive — like the wall itself was breathing with all the hearts that had passed through.
-
Mr. McPhisto Get this as a printRight there on the wet concrete, painted in bold yellow and red, was a large, playful portrait of Mr. McPhisto — Bono’s devilish alter ego from the Zoo TV tour.
With his red horns, yellow body, mischievous grin, and little wings, he looked like he had stepped straight off the stage and onto Windmill Lane. Mr. McPhisto was Bono’s way of exploring the dark, seductive, and chaotic side of fame — a flamboyant devil in a red suit who mocked the media, the music industry, and even himself with equal parts satire and swagger.
And right above him, someone had written in big, joyful letters:
U2 + GUINNESS = HEAVEN
It was perfect.
This short little street had become a place where fans could celebrate everything U2 represented — the music, the faith, the rebellion, the humor, and even the shadows — all in one glorious, messy explosion of love.
I stood there grinning in the rain. Even the devil looked happy to be here.
-
The White Cross Get this as a printThis one really caught my eye.
On the bright orange shutter, someone had painted a clean white cross beneath U2 and BONO, with a heart beside it.
It immediately reminded me of Bono's giant white flag during “Sunday Bloody Sunday” at Red Rocks.
Simple. Striking. Very U2.
-
My Turn Get this as a printAs the sun began to set and the afternoon turned colder, I knew it was time to go.
I had spent hours walking every inch of this short street, reading hundreds of messages from fans who had traveled from every corner of the world. But I hadn’t left anything of my own yet.
I didn’t have a bucket of paint. I didn’t have a stencil. I didn’t even have a can of spray paint.
I did have a black Sharpie marker in my camera bag.
I searched until I found one of the last small unused spaces on a metal gate post and wrote:
U2,
You’ll never know what you’ve inspired me to do.
Todd Rundstrom
9-9-94Then I stepped back, framed it carefully in my viewfinder, and took this picture — just in case the rain eventually washed it away someday.
It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t flashy. But it was mine.
And in that quiet moment, standing there on Windmill Lane with my own words now part of the wall forever, I felt something shift deep inside me.
-
Last Frame on Windmill Lane Get this as a printA close-up of my words.
Seeing my 23-year-old handwriting in this photograph takes me right back to that moment.
-
The Docks in Dublin, Ireland Get this as a printAfter hours on Windmill Lane, I wandered down toward the docks.
A massive ship dominated the waterfront, while a church spire rose quietly above the rooftops behind it.
It was a completely different side of Dublin — industrial, working and peaceful all at once.
-
Straight Out of Rattle and Hum Get this as a printAs I walked away from Windmill Lane toward my hostel, the light was fading and the city felt different.
I turned a corner and suddenly found myself on this long, empty cobblestone dock — railway tracks running straight ahead, a massive crane looming in the distance, and industrial buildings lining the water. It looked exactly like a scene from the movie Rattle and Hum.
And it was.
Parts of the film were shot right here in Dublin at the Point Depot on North Wall Quay — the same dockside, industrial area I was now standing in. The black-and-white atmosphere, the quiet power of the place… it felt like I had stepped out of the fan graffiti and straight into the movie itself.
-
Ready for the Credits Get this as a printThe light was fading, and Dublin was settling into evening.
I had spent the day chasing U2 through the streets of the city, finally finding Windmill Lane and leaving my own little mark behind.
I took one last photograph.
Then I put my camera away and started walking back toward the hostel.
I had found what I came looking for.
1994From my journal
Day 3 – Dublin, Ireland 9-9-94
This has been a most bizarre day. I had the worst thing happen and most possibly the best thing happened.
Let me start at the beginning. I woke up at 9:30, and had the free breakfast - bread, jam, cheese, juice and coffee. I was a little tired though. Make that a lot tired, because I went back to sleep until after 2:00.
This really threw off my plans for the day - I was hoping to wake up before noon. Anyway, I had to hustle to make it to the Guinness brewery for their last tour at 3:30.
Some lady gave me the wrong bus numbers and a 20-minute trip took an hour and a half. I was really mad and anxious because I really wanted to see the brewery, and this was my last chance.
The bus made it there at 3:29.
I hopped off, ran up to the window as they were getting ready to close but I made it. I took my ticket and stepped inside and that's when it hit me - I left my camera backpack on the bus.
My backpack with over $2,000 of camera equipment in it.
The backpack that contained my whole existence, and the primary reason for doing this trip. All I had was the Canon EOS 630 camera on my neck.
As soon as I could, I ran from the tour back outside, found a payphone and called the bus company. But because it was a Friday afternoon, they wouldn't have it in lost and found until Monday morning.
The trouble is, I'm going to be in France Monday morning.
So I flagged down the next bus driver and asked him how long it took a bus to complete a whole circuit. He said about an hour to an hour and a half.
Then I sat at the stop, in the rain, checking each bus that came by (every 8 minutes). After an hour and 45 minutes, I was getting very nauseous and dizzy.
The next bus, however, was my salvation.
The driver started waving at me as he pulled up. He noticed that I had left my camera bag right away, and he had kept it beside him the whole time. I thanked him profusely - about a million or so times - and haven't let go of it since.
I didn't want to take another bus for a while, so I walked back to check on times for the trip to Tours, France. (Olivier and his family lived in Tours).
It looks like I will be spending a day in London, but more on that later.
So much for the bad shit - here's where the day got good. I walked over to Windmill Lane Studio, U2’s recording studio. It was on a tiny little side street that I would have never found had it not been for John at The Garage Bar giving me directions last night. As I approached, my pulse quickened, and when I saw the street sign for Windmill Lane, my heart skipped a beat.
But as I turned the corner and saw what lay before me, my heart stopped altogether.
It was a shrine, a temple, a holy place made by fans from the world over. The whole block, about 50 yards long, was covered in spray painted tribute to the band and its individual members.
“BONO, YOU’RE GOD”
“LARRY, I WANT YOU IN ME”
“I was a sailor, I was lost at sea, I was under the waves until U2 rescued me.”
“Bono, I can live with you, but never without you”
“U2 RULES THE WORLD
“FUCK THE REVOLUTION!”
“ROCK AND ROLL STOPS THE TRAFFIC”
“U2 IS THROWING THEIR ARMS AROUND THE WORLD”
“Bono, remember wet kisses in Berlin during ‘Throwing Your Arms Around The World?’ I do!”
“Bono, thanks for dancing with me in Sydney!”
“I’ve found a new religion called Bonoism”
“Bono, all I want is you!”
“U2, DON’T FLY AWAY”
“I’m Going To Run To You, Run To You”
“U2, YOU’VE SAVED ME!”
Someone had painted the whole lyrics to the song “One” on the sidewalk. It took up about 50 feet. Someone else painted Mr. McPhisto (Bono’s alter-ego) on the sidewalk.
And the names. Layers and layers and layers of names.
And now there is one more name, mine, and one more message: “U2, You’ll Never Know What You Inspired Me To Do!”
(This was it! I found what I was looking for! No matter what happened the rest of this adventure through Europe - or this adventure through life - I could claim for the rest of my life I had been to Windmill Lane.)
After spending about an hour reading other people's messages and taking pictures, I continued walking, and before I knew it had stumbled upon a place where a scene from U2’s concert movie “Rattle and Hum” had been filmed - the docks of Dublin. (I had seen this movie countless times and to be standing here gave me goosebumps).
It began raining, so I turned to go home. But I couldn't resist walking along Windmill Lane one last time. It ranks up there as one of the most fascinating things I've ever laid eyes on.
I made it back to the hostel thoroughly wet. I showered, changed, and called Olivier. When I told him I was arriving in Tours at 7:15 AM, he asked me if I could drink champagne that early. I told him not to worry.
I guess I'm not too out of touch with America, because when I went into the TV room in the hostel, the 1994 MTV Music Video Awards show was on. I watched that, rolled some film from my bulk loader into empty canisters so I’d be ready to take pictures tomorrow, wrote a postcard to Bob and now I’m going to bed.
JournalMy handwritten journal pages · 6 pages
-
-
-
-
-
-
Although I missed the Guinness brewery tour, I did get a visitor’s guide.
2026A Reflection from 2026 - What This Day Was Really About
September 9, 1994 was a perfect microcosm of my entire 100-day journey — and of my life.
It started with failure and despair: missing the Guinness tour, then losing my camera bag (and with it, every photograph I had taken so far). For nearly two hours I sat in the rain, sick with panic, convinced my whole reason for being in Europe had just vanished. There are no pictures from that part of the day because my cameras were gone.
And then came the miracle.
The bus driver — that quiet angel — returned everything. My life’s work was saved.
Hours later, I turned the corner onto Windmill Lane and walked into a living cathedral of color, love, and devotion. I stood among thousands of messages from people just like me — people who had been saved by the same music. And in that moment, I finally understood.
I didn’t just come to Europe to take pictures.
I came to be rescued.
This day — more than any other — shows the real story I’m telling: that even when everything feels lost, even when you’ve made terrible mistakes, even when you’re sitting in the rain thinking it’s all over… something bigger is still watching over you.
That’s why this project matters.
I’m not just sharing old photos and journal entries. I’m showing people what it looks like when a broken 22-year-old kid refuses to give up — and how, one small act of courage at a time, he found his way back to life.
This day is the heart of my story.
And the fact that I’m still able to tell it, all these years later, with the same passion and gratitude… that’s the real miracle.