I reflect a lot these days on the places we live in, the places that bear witness to our joys as well as our troubles. This is of course in connection with the sale of our house that should materialize in the coming days, house in which we lived 20 years.

In the picture above, we can see the list of people who have the last inhabited in an apartment building that is being demolished (see photo in the extras). I cannot help but try to imagine who they were and what has been their story between the walls of this building soon to become dust.

Mr. Henry may have lived with his wife and held his hand until her last breath. Ms. Schmidt may have lived there alone for years with her cat and had to be forced to leave to live in a senior's center. And what about D. Zafrani who spent hours pounding on her college work until the wee hours of the morning. They may have crossed on the stairs or perhaps never.

And this question that keeps coming up: What remains of us in these homes we leave?