Every time he goes to Roubaix, the narrator is pulled back to the ruins of a house from his childhood, at number 16 rue d’Avelghem. Even in his memories, it was already falling apart. Years ago, in 1935, his grandfather Joseph had moved in with his flock of kids. He stayed there ‘til the day he died – though by the last few years he had lost his wits. The narrator, fascinated by the roomfuls of life razed and forgotten, takes up the threads of the story. All that’s left for him to make sense of is the outline of the home, some names, and a few phantoms…

This pared-down second novel confirms Xavier Houssin’s singular talent and his taste for poetic writing.