If there's something both fascinating and frustrating about abandoned places, it's their tendency to become progressively anonymous over time. There are those which, even after millennia, remain obvious - a church, even a ruined one, will remain easy to recognize - and then there are places like this one. Places which, with their neutral architecture, their absence of words or their armies of empty rooms, seem to correspond only to a vague concept of "building" devoid of precise purpose. When I was first told about this place, it was initially described to me as a hospital, but the lack of even slightly spacious rooms (for operations, for example) made me forget this hypothesis. Meanwhile, on the Internet, many people refer to it as a retirement home. Finally, there's the explanation given by a colleague at work, which seems to me the most likely given the configuration of the thing. Six five-storey buildings for a total of around 300/400 studios. The whole would be the vestige of a vast workers' housing project launched at the time of the Saint-Cézaire population explosion, and which, for a variety of reasons, gradually fell into disrepair until it was closed down. It's this archaeological aspect that I love about urban exploration - finding in the meagre remains of a place, the chain of events that led to the precise moment of its demise.