Urban exploration - Marie-Louise's house

We received a traveler's photos and his narrative within the forsaken walls, and we have compiled a historical summary from them.

It is almost certain that I had never encountered such a sanctuary before. The house had been forced open, yet nothing visibly had been stolen, and above all—truly above all—nothing had been ransacked, overturned, trampled, or defiled in utter contempt for the former inhabitants. As I partially opened the metal shutter of the French door, such a thick layer of spiderwebs tore away that I told myself no one—absolutely no one—had been there for years.

Upstairs, I opened the shutters of the two living rooms, which had been closed for an age, ten years without a doubt. I left them open to let the air in. The space became wonderfully wholesome and beautiful; the light brought out the shimmering warmth of this home, which suddenly appeared to me as fragile and precious. On the ground floor, a portrait sitting on the TV serves as a reminder of the pain of losing a loved one: I assume it was Marie-Louise.

Within this house, not a single trace of bills, letters, or photos remains. Everything was removed down to the smallest detail, so much so that I came very close to never knowing who the former inhabitants were. Speaking of inhabitants, I am still in doubt as to whether this was potentially a secondary residence or perhaps the small "family" home of a namesake grandmother, as there were two women named Marie-Louise among the siblings.

In short, only one tiny folder was not taken—why that is will remain a mystery. It mentions Alain, a cabin crew purser at Air Inter, and Marie-Louise. We know nothing, not even whether she was his wife, his sister, or a relative. These people shared a common address in Toulouse, in times long past.

Could this have been the home of Alain’s mother? What happened to this dwelling for it to be abandoned for so long? One finds the typical yellow powdery traces around objects, characteristic of houses that have been sealed shut for more than a decade. Why did it remain intact, untouched by any vandalism? Why was it never sold? So many questions left unanswered.

For all these reasons, it took me years to publish this.

Part of the family is buried in a family vault on the slope of a very large cemetery. I carry with me the memory of an intense, touching, yet very fragile house.