On an anonymous road there is this strange place. Difficult to stop as the road is narrow, frequented, without possibility of parking. With a little effort, we finally reach. On the spot, a kind of occult mechanical garage. Some frail half-collapsed buildings served as a workshop to serve the customers of this occult auto-wreck. A separate space seemed dedicated to the sale of paint.

Many pots are there, spoiled by the years. Surrounded by vegetation, countless waste materials that were once part of an automobile form a disturbing landscape: in a state of permanent decomposition. At the bottom of the plot, a stream is equally soiled, revealing a burial of older garbage, contemporary to the operation of the site.

Pictures of this bucolic property where in remote times turned the wheel of a mill.

Some know that they are highway areas whose social function far exceeds that envisaged by its builders. Thus the Caissargues motorway area is both a place of halt for the traveller where one can admire the facade of the Theatre de Nîmes installed there after a fire in the city and a place of meeting dedicated to love between men. 

Concerned about their well-being those gentlemen certainly appreciate the Provençal jungle that offers an airtight forest with paths that meander beyond the highway fences.

 A few pictures of a dilapidated wine cellar located on the outskirts of the town of Roquebrune sur Argens.

Since a few months, the Aixois ring-road offers the best example of the wasteland, from the squat to the Aixois fashion. Far from the clichés, rusty hangars, railroad tracks laid, the Aixois squat is dressed in old stones, includes outbuildings formerly for agricultural use. Standing along the ring road and next to the Avenue de l'Ecole militaire, the Villa Massilia looks like a bad day. Never in two hundred years of existence had the buildings been so badly damaged. From the time the property was occupied by one of the families who made Aix until our day, the site suffered a slow descent into the hell...

Initially assigned to the Court of First Instance, the property was gradually abandoned, buildings by buildings. To the dentist, to the medical office integrated in one of the bastides have succeeded squatters whose residents remember as students a little lost. The group of about ten individuals enjoyed great discretion, sheltered from a screen of greenery made of centuries-old trees. One evening, however, this urban balance is broken when members of the squat are accused of having, on a night of drinking, ransacked the new Tribunal d'Instance voisin. In repression and to ensure the definitive release of the bastide, the Ministry of Justice owner of the site will use the great means...

A team of highly skilled workers will work to demolish the buildings, to make them permanently unusable. Everywhere the ceilings are cracked, the roofs torn off, the walls broken down. Outside, the trees were decimated without distinction, their remains ejected. The doors, the flaps torn off or projected from the floors, remain in mounds. Thus transformed, the Villa Massilia indulges in disarticulated, undressed, marked with a thousand blows not failing to shock the user of the ring-road thinking of what would have done him.

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