A little over two years ago, I took [this photo](<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/anahkiasen/2962210231/in/set-72157614784220405/">www.flickr.com/photos/anahkiasen/2962210231/in/set-721576...</a>), of an abandoned house not far from where I live, near the village. I don't really remember a time in my life when this house was inhabited, only my mother telling me that it was a very beautiful house with magnificent stained-glass windows and a superb garden, and that it was a real shame that it had been left there abandoned. As I understand it, it was inhabited until the 80s and then abandoned. The garden, with its palm trees and rose bushes, has turned into a veritable jungle where it's difficult to take two steps. The building itself oozes haunted manor from every pore of its facade, even if no one has ever died there. In fact, as far back as I can remember in elementary school, it was already "the haunted house" for all of us - not because it was, but because just glancing around made you feel uneasy about what you could see inside the former "Pink House". Overturned furniture, broken windows, burnt wallpaper, newspapers covering at least twenty centimetres of the floor, the list goes on... I've been curious about this house for quite a few years now, every time I pass by. Of course, it's strictly forbidden to enter and everything is either padlocked or naturally blocked by branches that have since grown. That said, it's never stopped teenagers from entering, and it's very easy to climb over the gate to get in. So, curious, I took my camera and climbed up. Some of the photos are a bit blurry, as I had a lot of problems with the light inside, of course. On the whole, it was very impressive; the house has three floors, with ten or so rooms on each floor, and everything has been abandoned, knocked over and thrown away. There's an unreal pile of newspapers, magazines and books scattered all over the second floor. It's a bit of a mishmash of all eras, and it's a little unsettling to wonder how so many newspapers got there in the first place. The same goes for the second floor, where clothes are scattered in huge piles all over the rooms. Many places are obstructed, the staircase leading to the upper floors for example is choked with furniture and objects of all kinds, I had to remove some and climb the mound to get to the top. Incidentally, everything almost collapsed when I tried to climb back down to get out. The cellar is at the end of a small, completely lightless corridor in which I was literally scared to death, flashing forward like in the movies. As a result, the staircase leading down to the cellar was also blocked with furniture. Which was fine by me, since I wouldn't have gone down into the cellar of this house for the world. Just as I didn't dare climb the attic ladder that was holding out its arms to me, for fear that the ceiling was no longer in good condition and also because, damn it, the ladder was balanced on a table that was itself propped up by old books, and well, I value my life. As with any abandoned place, the Maison Rose obviously has its share of tags, broken bottles and the like, but it's all concentrated in the vast upstairs lounge, and I get the impression that nobody has ever really been up to the other floors. I suppose, for the sake of risk, they've all been up there at night, so I wouldn't have gone any higher either. The garden is just like the house: it's been in the planning stage for thirty years, completely blocked off on all sides. It's hard to make your way through, and what's left of the garden portico is pretty meagre. Et, et voilà. For some time now, the town hall has been talking about renovating everything, but the work is so monstrous that lately what we've been hearing is that it's all going to be razed to the ground. So, even if it has to be done, I thought I'd venture inside at least once in my life before all this "dead in time" chaos disappears for good.