Urban Exploration - The Saint-Jean clinic in Montluçon

We received photos from a traveler and compiled them into a historical summary.

This was the final visit made in this sector of the Allier: an abandoned clinic located on a major boulevard. The place is a total wreck, and once again, I won't pretend to be surprised; I had been warned. How can I claim to be a describer and defender of heritage in the face of this? I admit, it is a drive for exhaustiveness that goes beyond a mere case of "acute collecting." No, it is a sense of great spite—I am here, so I go in.

What remains is a feeling of waste: what’s the point? For what purpose? The premises have fallen victim to relentless vandalism: everything is smashed, massacred, tagged, burned, and soiled. I sometimes say that if you paid these people to do this, they wouldn't want the job; it requires too much effort. But why this systematic hatred, breaking everything in a matter of months and leaving the local residents in such distress?

In 2015, the press ran glorious headlines: things were going to get much better, as the abandoned building had been purchased for a real estate development. On paper, it was perfect; initial funds poured in from buyers eager for a new home in a relatively well-off neighborhood. Except that in ten years, no renovation has taken place, and the developer simply vanished into thin air. Even more audacious is the presence of the large real estate promotional sign, still standing out front, drowned in a lush surge of wasteland weeds. As for the legal troubles, word has it that the contractor sold the apartments before realizing the floor slabs contained asbestos, subsequently going bankrupt after receiving the asbestos removal estimate.

Closed in 1997, the facility was transferred to Desertines because the premises were no longer large enough. Since then, this clinic has been nothing but an eyesore in a city that has become nothing more than an open-air nursing home, drowning in a dying industry. The picture I paint is not a glorious one, but having visited twice, I truly find no other sentiment: my pen is sharp. When I quickly step inside the clinic, there is screaming. Drug addicts are shouting at one another. I explore anyway, taking the necessary precautions. The hallways reveal nothing but a vast garbage dump.

My thoughts go out to the neighbors, who must now live with a wave of delinquency. In January 2024, the premises were put up for auction for 5,000 euros, but they did not trigger a wave of enthusiasm.

On April 25, 2024, at around 6:00 AM, a fire ravaged the clinic.