Urban Exploration - Étienne's Farm

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

It’s raining. And I mean horribly, intensely raining. Since this morning, I’ve been hitting wall after wall—nothing but failure after failure. There are periods like that. Here I am, in this very isolated corner of the countryside, standing before a beautiful farmhouse with a timeless, centuries-old allure. Two sparrowhawks make their presence known to me; they are far from happy that I’m wandering around here.

Everything would be fine if only the farm weren't in a state of widespread ruin. But that’s alright; it happens.

This very large farm had barns on one side and the living quarters with vast rooms on the other. The place gives off the impression of a semi-haphazard move. Beds have been shifted, objects removed, and there are new PVC windows—yet some are already shattered; let’s bet it wasn't the wind.

The agricultural estate was dedicated to grain; there were no animals, or if there were, it was in the distant past.

The family consisted of Etienne, a farmer; Paulette, his wife; and Evelyne, their daughter. Etienne is buried in the village's tiny cemetery.

I waited, without much conviction and certainly without much patience, for a lull in the storm to fly the drone. It felt like an eternity. Finally, I sent it into the air at top speed—the break in the weather would be brief. The hawks immediately attacked the drone; I respected their territory and cleared out.

In memory of this family, of whom, in the end, no trace remains.