I've always wanted to do an abandoned village. In my home in Shropshire someone did once allegedly find one, calling it the village of bones. But alas, it turned out to be one farm house, and the only bone was between some journalists legs when he realised he'd found a title that would generate clicks.
Here we have a whole collection of derelict homes but even now the term "abandoned village" is a tad disingenuous. It once had 10,000 residents, and supposedly now has around 350, but locals say that the media does exaggerate just how much of a ghost town it really is. There are still plenty of people living around here. There's still a supermarket, a school and a book shop that opened in 1997. And check out these weird cartoony animals on the railings. Obviously some attempt has been made to bring life back to these empty streets.
But despite the life evidently creeping back in, there are still plenty of abandoned places too, so let's get stuck in!
Early in the 20th century the only noise in this quaint village were church bells and farm animals, but that tranquillity was disturbed by two world wars. Many of the towns occupants died fighting the Germans, and when it was all done the fields were farmed by German POW's. Life seemingly returned to normal. Everything was fine.
And then in June 1973 a Russian Tupolev Tu-144, the Soviet Unions Concorde, was performing aerobatic manoeuvres for the nearby Paris Air Show, and things went horribly wrong. The plane was attempting manoeuvres that it wasn't capable of, and violently fell apart in the sky, raining fiery chunks of itself down onto the village, before crashing into the school.
All six people in the plane were killed. seven people on the ground died. Fifteen houses were destroyed. Sixty people on the ground were injured. Everyone was horrified. Anyone unscathed knew someone who wasn't.
So a year later it was considered rather bad taste when an airport opened right next to the village. The people who were still recovering from injuries and mourning loved ones now had to suffer planes flying overhead constantly, reminding them of the horrible incident.
In an attempt to appear sympathetic that probably came across more cheeky than anything, technicians installed speakers around the village in the months leading up to the airport opening, to play plane noises to get the villagers accustomed to hearing it every day. Understandably, rather than take that shit, the majority of villagers just fucked off.
Here we have the old pub, which I wasn't able to get into. But I've done the next best thing and found an image of it from 1917.
(Photo not mine, obviously)
As for the houses, the abandoned structures were actually purchased by the airport when the occupants moved out. Their plans were to demolish them, but then it transpired that the village church was protected, and this protection order extended to any structure within a certain radius of it. Consequently any houses near the church were just bricked up and left to rot, cursed to live forever but never be lived in again.
I strongly doubt any of the houses here were lived in by the victims of the crash. Most of them were in their homes when it happened, and those homes were destroyed by bits of falling plane. These ones, for the most part, still have roofs, and a certain level of structural stability one doesn't associate with plane crashes.
In 2009 the airport did sell the houses back to the community for an insultingly measly One Euro, but by then the houses had been left to nature for several decades. The cost of fixing them up now is probably astronomical.
And as you can see, the house is just a vandalised shell, but despite the chaos and neglect it's still possible to see the original flooring. It's very dated.
This used to be the lounge but it's now just a shell.
And this was probably the kitchen.
As far as graffiti goes, I was quite fond of this one. But when one considers that it is the best graffiti in the entire village, it's kinda sad.
The stairs are still intact.
Evidently someone has been living in this old wreck. I guess that's kinda nice. At least the house is serving some purpose.
And that's it for the first house.
I really want to talk about the victims of the plane crash, because nobody ever does. It actually angers me a bit. There are hundreds of articles about the crash, speculation about why it happened when the pilot was so experienced, how it was lucky that it was the weekend so the school was empty, how it was a bitter blow to the Soviet Union at the time, blah blah blah, but not a single one names the dead or the injured. I had to really dig to get their names, and that's ridiculous. What is a story of tragedy if we dehumanise the victims by turning them into numbers and statistics?
Their names are Sylvianne and Marjorie Gaulupeau, Phillipe Dudziak, Martine Vialatte, Gisele Lelong, Pascal Henrio, Alain Lecat, and the plane crew, Mikhail Kozlov, Valery Molchanov, Vladimir Benderov, Boris Pervukhin, Antoly Dralin, and Gueorgui Bazhenov.
The deaths that stood out to me the most were Sylvianne Gaulupeau (née Vessella) and her daughter, Marjorie. Sylvianne was 24, and Marjorie had been born in September 1972, not even a year earlier. Sylvianne's husband had been out running some errands when the crash happened. He rushed home to find his house completely obliterated by falling plane debris, and his wife and newborn daughter dead among the rubble.
He's still alive today, although whether he ever remarried, I don't know. It's a hell of a thing to go through. It would be hard to move forward, forever wondering about the family you could have had.
He's still alive today, although whether he ever remarried, I don't know. It's a hell of a thing to go through. It would be hard to move forward, forever wondering about the family you could have had.
The second house was pretty easy to access, but it was next to a park where the allegedly few locals walked their dogs, so I had to be a teeny bit more stealthy than I was expecting to be in a supposed "ghost town."
But the back door is open so slipping inside was pretty easy.
This house is probably the most furnished out of all of the abandoned buildings here, with this old armchair parked next to the window. It's weird to think that fifty years ago this was a family home, and the head of the household may have sat on this chair and watched TV or read the newspaper.
The house has a curved staircase and I kinda love it.
These are the bedrooms, all in similar conditions to the downstairs.
But what made this house unique was all the remaining decor that hinted at the character it once had as a family home. Check out this door, painted with ocean life. This isn't graffiti. This is an original feature. The people who lived here seem pretty cool.
We also have truck wallpaper in what I assume was a boys bedroom.
And this door is decorated with a motorbike. This is so cool!
Onto the best part of any abandoned place, the bathroom!
Still in better condition than the toilets in some pubs and clubs.
This room was rather creepy. I think the upright table with batteries and door locks placed on it kinda gave the impression that someone was still using this place.
I do like the tables cute design juxtaposed against so much destruction.
Another set of curved steps led up to the attic, where nature is creeping in.
Although the wallpaper and flooring does make me think this attic space was used for more than just storing Christmas decorations.
But that's about it for this house!
The next house is looking a bit worse for wear. The only access is around the back, but even then it means navigating what would have once been a nice walled garden.
To return our focus to the victims, one of the more heart breaking stories was of Martine Vialatte.
Martine was eleven and she was playing in her bedroom with her sister, Marianne, who was twelve, and their cousin Lydia, who was eleven. Suddenly a chunk of Soviet Concorde came crashing through the ceiling, destroying their house entirely.
In the aftermath, Lydia was dragged from the rubble by her father and uncle. She woke up in hospital 48 hours later to find that her right arm had been amputated.
Marianne, Martine and their grandmother were also pulled from the rubble by the husband of a kindergarten teacher who would also later find a piece of plane in the garden next to his house.
But Martine Vialatte was dead, and Marianne had witnessed the whole thing. She was severely injured, but really the trauma of seeing her sister die right in front of her wounded her far more than any physical injury. To this day she has a huge intolerance for the sound of planes.
Other victims only have an infuriatingly measly amount of detail available. Phillipe Dudziak was thirteen when he was killed by the plane crash, but all I really know is his name, and that he was friends with another boy called Jean Jacques.
Jean Jacques actually survived the incident but the violence of the impact threw him backwards, and his ankle was injured. He tried to run but couldn't, so just hid until the emergency services found him.
Jean Jacques, traumatised by his injuries and losing his friend, says that he can still feel the heat from the wreck and thinks about it ever day. The staircase in his parents house apparently moved several centimetres from the impact, and a chunk of plane landed on their bed. Thankfully they weren't in it.
Here the door to the house is just wide open.
And amidst the predictable abundance of vandalism there's still a lovely original flooring, but not much else.
The toilet is under the stairs. The stairs are largely absent, and only an idiot would attempt to climb them now.
Whoopsie!
Check it out! Someone has scribbled an entire essay on the bedroom wall.
Alas, I know very little French, and it doesn't help that a huge chunk of this has been removed. I know this starts with an introduction, but cuts off just as it gets to their name. And then there's a few sentences about loving something, being greedy and making money.
If anyone can make sense of it, I would love to hear about it!
French Speakers only. Google Lens is ridiculously inaccurate on French cursive that has vast chunks of sentence structures missing.
Heading on up to the attic!
It's fairly predictable.
As for the remaining victims in the village, Gisele Lelong was born in 1914 and widowed in 1945. If we take these years into consideration, she must have lived through a hell of a lot. She was born at the start of the first world war, just in time to have her country become a warzone, and she would have been 25 when the second world war broke out and those pesky Nazis altered her life for the next six years. And then she lost her husband. She'd endured so much, and she met her end so violently.
And then there are two more children, eight-year-old Pascal Henrio and five-year-old Alain Lecat.
Alain had gone to visit his uncle with his mother. His mother and cousin were injured. He had a brother, Phillipe, who was eleven at the time. He later recalled that this was the first time he hadn't gone with the family to visit his uncle, choosing instead to visit his friend. He says that the decision probably saved his life.
So really the vast majority of victims were children, and that sort of thing does leave emotional scars. Is it any wonder people left?
This house was particularly interesting. The steps up to the front door are barely visible through the vegetation. The only sign they're even there is the railing peeking out.
This house is still wrecked but there's noticeably less graffiti. That's probably because it's a bit trickier to get into.
I spoke too soon. It turns out inbreds can climb.
In all honestly don't think Satan would associate with Nazis. A Math Podcast would, definitely. But Satanists really regard Satan as a symbol of freedom from indoctrination, albeit on a religious level. But what made Hitler and Nazism work was manipulation and indoctrination, just like a cult. People fell for propaganda and insane ideology almost as stupidly as people believe a book about a deity who gave humans free will and then commanded genocide because we weren't acting the way he wanted, and then still claimed to love us afterwards. God has more in common with Hitler than Satan does. Stop bullying Satan.
There are still old bed frames upstairs. It's weird to think that fifty years ago, someone lay on these beds. Someone lay here for the last time, and then resolved to pack their bags in the morning. Perhaps they lay here that night hearing the sounds of planes overhead, perhaps having had difficulty getting their kids to settle because they were still traumatised from the events only a year ago, and the sound of constant planes wasn't helping. It's very sad.
Many of the survivors have since recounted their version of events. 16-year-old Monica was actually performing in a dance hall and was about to go on stage when the theatre shook. She later learned that the planes flight deck, and six dead Russians, had crashed into her house, totally destroying it. If her parents hadn't been at the theatre to see her perform, they would all be dead.
And I think when we consider stories like this, it all becomes suddenly real. It's one thing to hear about this, and hear that a certain number of people died, but when we actually learn their names, hear their stories, and listen to the survivors, it all suddenly hits home. People had their entire lives ruined by this event. The majority of victims were children with their whole lives ahead of them, but all of them had loved ones and dreams and ambitions. People who were there are now terrified of planes fifty years later.
It is very understandable that the airports construction led to the villages abandonment. They must have felt like their entire ordeal meant nothing to anybody.
This house is completely bricked up, but it is open around the back.
From here it was possible to view one room, but the rest of the house had deteriorated beyond being explorable.
Of course, among the victims we also have the men flying the plane. They may not have as much significance to the villagers as their lost children, but they still had families and loved ones back in Russia too. And because they were all military men, their mugshots are available on the internet. I wish the same could be said for the others.
(Photo not mine, obviously)
This is Mikhail Kozlov. He was 45 and the pilot of the doomed plane. He's got his own Wikipedia page for his established military skills and career as a pilot. He was reported to openly brag about the Tupalevs skills in comparison to their western rival, Concorde, and his infamous skills as a pilot only added more mystery to why the plane crashed.
(Photo not mine, obviously)
This is the co-pilot, Valery Molchanov. After the crash, a bus-load of Russian military folks rocked up at the village. By this point it was a hive of activity, with people screaming and crying, and emergency services doing their best to keep the fires under control and tend to the injured. The Russians saw a dead girl being carried off on a stretcher before they were driven to identify the planes crew. This was a difficult job because they were so badly mutilated, but they identified Valery Molchanov first, and reported that he was almost cut in half by his own seatbelt, such was the severity of the impact.
(photo not mine, obviously)
Vladimir Benderov, 48, was the deputy chief designer and engineer. He'd actually started training to be a cosmonaut in 1964, during the space race, but he'd dropped out after haemorrhaging excessively, and also being too tall for the seats.
In perhaps a crucial clue to the cause of the plane crash, Vladimir actually told journalists that he felt the plane had been built too fast. It had started construction in 1965 and was ready in 1968, which was unusually speedy for the time. Vladimir said that this rush job was due to the Soviets wanting aerospace superiority over Concorde, and told his daughter Olga that it was unfinished and needed perfecting. Before leaving Russia, he told his son "take care of Olga." He'd never said that to his son before, keep in mind he'd actually been training for space flight only a decade earlier, so his family interpreted that as Vladimir knowing full well that he might not survive this plane ride.
(Photos not mine, obviously)
Lastly we have Boris Pervukhin, the senior engineer, Antoly Dralin, the flight engineer, and the flight navigator Gueorgui Bazhenov. Unfortunately I can't find anything on these guys besides their mug shots and names, but that's better than nothing.
This house, similarly to all the others, is bricked up at the front but accessible around the back.
The downstairs is completely wrecked.
And the stairs are quite challenging.
But what's interesting about this place is the kitchen is upstairs. It still has character too. Check out these tiles.
There is an attic, but alas, the stairs have fallen away.
A few of the survivors said that any damaged houses were looted by thieves following the disaster, once all the rescues had been carried out. To make matters worse, journalists lied about being unable to find the planes black box. In actual fact they had found it very quickly, but needed to add even more sensationalism and mystery to a story about a plane hitting a village, so lied and said that it still needed to be found. This only encouraged the looting because people were doing it under the pretence of helping to look for the black box.
But it wasn't all shite behaviour from humanity. Many villagers did donate food and clothing to the victims and the rescue teams.
Here we have quite a big house, with a wider central door under the remains of an overhang. Perhaps this was a shop or another kind of business. If we look closely, the centre is actually missing a roof, and the upper window has no sign that it was ever bricked up, which indicates that the roof had collapsed before the windows were bricked. That makes me think this *may* be one of the buildings destroyed by plane debris.
But that is purely speculation. After half a century of neglect, it's possible that the roof caved in by itself, or even that the house has suffered from arson.
It's easy to slip inside. The back wall has fallen away, leading us straight to the upstairs.
It definitely seems that someone has been sleeping in that room over there.
There are still pans in the kitchen. It's so strange that these have survived. Half a century ago, the occupants cooked with these for the last time, and just put them down and never looked back.
Much to my delight, the stairs also lead down into the cellar.
Obviously going down into the cellar of a building that has fallen to pieces is a pretty bad idea, indicative of a somewhat malfunctioning survival instinct. I don't recommend it. I'm just an addict.
So as for why the plane crash occurred... To the frustration and fascination of everyone involved, the official inquest drew a blank. Nobody was able to conclude why the tragedy happened. This led to a lot of speculation, some that makes sense, and other theories that are just plain bonkers.
The Tupolev Tu-144 was the Russian version of Concorde, even nicknamed Konkordski. The two planes were in fierce competition, although they were only physically similar. Beyond the external appearance they were actually very different planes. That's not to say that the Soviet's weren't nicking ideas. One spy working undercover at British Airways allegedly passed more than 90,000 Concorde documents to the KGB in the 1960s. But the Soviets did also add their own designs to the Tupolev. They resembled each other but differed in every other detail.
It's said that on the day of the crash, the weather was shite, the plane was largely untested, but people were confident because of Mikhail Kozlov's level of experience. Concorde demonstrated its first flight at the air show, and its performance was described as "Unexciting." This only made Mikhail more excited, more eager to brag, and more sure that they could outperform their competition.
And so the most common theorised explanation for the plane crash is overconfidence and over-competitiveness. Mikhail Kozlov was so determined to outperform Concorde that he tried to get the Tupolev to perform manoeuvres that it wasn't capable of, causing it to fall apart.
I guess it's kinda poetic. Are they saying that this place is deader even more so than the cemeteries?
Or are they being literal and pointing out that the cemetery here is kinda drab?
We'll get to the graveyard soon enough!
This a pretty easy house to access and subsequently it is also the most decayed. It's got graffiti, it's been on fire. There's nothing here except a vague shape that gives us some idea of its former layout.
Moving on upstairs...
The upper floor is pretty shite.
If we're being honest, every house here is rather dull from an urbex perspective. If these houses were alone, in the UK, in some rural area far away from everywhere, with some cheesy urbex nickname like "Murder Mansion," I probably wouldn't bother with them unless I was in the area.
It's the story that adds context to these shells. It's the history and eeriness of an entire derelict village that makes this something to add to the to-do list. It's the fact that people actually died here. Children died here. It was an absolute tragedy that shouldn't have happened, and shouldn't be forgotten, that ruined even more lives than it ended. Because when children are involved, we're not just losing a life. We're losing potential. The families are losing the chance to see their children grow up, they're losing the chance to be proud as they finish school, finish college, get married, and have children of their own. It's all that stuff that we take for granted, and it is an absolute insult to their memories that their names aren't even mentioned in any of the media articles. Sure, I found them, but it shouldn't have been a challenge.
That's why I focused on the victims first, although that's not to say that all the stuff with the plane isn't intriguing too. But it's a secondary point of interest, at best.
Given that this was the Cold War, the investigation into the plane crash was flooded with political machinations from the outset, especially when the French authorities offered to reconstruct the wreckage in a hangar. The Soviet's claimed that a French plane was in the vicinity, notably a Dassault Mirage III fighter plane, conducting industrial espionage by trying to photograph the unique canards of the Tupolev. This had caused Mikhail to steer the plane in evasive manoeuvres.
It was an unpopular theory, regarded as an outlandish conspiracy theory, most notably because the canards of the Tupolev could be seen and photographed from ground level. The French authorities denied that any such plane had been in the vicinity.
And then it turned out they were lying. Numerous civilians, including Jean Jacques, who had been injured in the crash, reported seeing a second plane.
So the French authorities admitted that a Mirage plane had in fact been flying in the vicinity, roughly in their direction, but they maintained that its trajectory wasn't going to have it collide with the Tupolev, so could not have been responsible for their ill-fated manoeuvres. But some argue that since the Russians on board weren't expecting another plane to be in the sky heading towards them, they may have carried out evasive manoeuvres anyway, purely out of a surprise.
I'm going to include some images of the village after the crash, just to break up the wall of text a bit, and just to add some context. I think it's important that we see the village after the disaster.
(Photograph not mine, obviously)
In October 1973 the Daily Telegraph said that a wrench had fallen into a recess around the control stick, jamming the aircraft flight control system. But this is the Daily Telegraph we're talking about. Can anyone who works there actually open their mouths without excrement pouring out of it?
Along the same vein, some theories claim that Vladimir Benderov was holding a camera that he accidentally dropped into the control system, jamming it.
But let's not forget, Vladimir Benderov was doubtful he'd even survive a ride in this plane. Why would he be so careless while he was on it? He'd be clenched so tight that only dogs could hear him fart.
Vladimir's son Valery also defended his father in 2000, saying that any negative g-physics from the planes dive would have thrown any loose object in the cockpit upwards and backwards.
More bizarrely, a group called "Liberation of Rudolf Hess" claimed to have blown up the plane in protest of the Nazi war criminal Rudolf Hess being in prison. Hess's own son has come forward and said that this was silly.
I know this is hard to believe in such lugubrious times, but not everything has to be about Nazis!
(photograph not mine, obviously)
The best theory I've heard, keeping in mind that I know nothing about planes and I'm just regurgitating jargon, is that the Tupolev had a flight control stabilisation system. This was a panel behind the pilots seat that contained twenty toggle switches. One of them provided lateral stability to the plane. That is, it helped it resist horizontal forces. It did this by sending a signal to the planes rudder.
A second toggle was intended for a future feature, which involved longitudinal stabilising, which I presume means vertical forces. But this feature wasn't properly calibrated. It was unfinished in the Soviet's attempt to get the plane ready for the air show, and as a result the panel was supposedly covered up to prevent it being used while its functions weren't working properly.
(Photo not mine, obviously)
But when the wreck was found, it was revealed that the panel had been open and both switches had been toggled. The theory is that the panel hadn't actually been covered as intended, and the crew had concluded that its problems had been fixed. Consequently, the canards were retracted, and after a few seconds the signal from the unfinished second toggle may have forced the plane into a sudden descent. This would have caused the crew some surprise. They would have fought to restabilise and ultimately release the canards, inhibiting this system, and causing the plane to surge upwards. This abrupt change in forces overloaded the wing structure and it began to break up.
(Photo not mine, obviously)
So in the aftermath of the disaster, there's now another town nearby with the same name as the abandoned village. Apparently a lot of the former occupants resettled there.
The Paris air show is now held elsewhere, away from settlements, so there's some progress there!
Russia gave the Tupolev limited service during 1977 and 1978 but after another crash in May 1978 it was withdrawn completely. It was said to be cramped, prone to breaking, and noisy. It was described as mean and angry, more a product of national pride than any good faith pursuit of aerospace achievement. If anything can be learned from this, it's that when governments put their image before the people, it's only detrimental to the people.
The Tupolev's rival, Concorde, served with British Airways and Air France until 2003 after another crash. I remember that one being on TV.
(Photo not mine, obviously)
It would be silly of me to do a blog about this village without also taking a look at the church. Alas, I didn't take a photo of it, so we'll have to turn to good old Street View.
I was rather disappointed to find the old chateau completely collapsed into just a single-storey ruin, mainly because other urbexers have shown the mansion as a two-storey ruin. I'm too late.
(image credit- Google Streetview)
In front of the church is a war memorial, adding further sadness to the villages abandonment. The church is closed to the public, and I was unable to get in. But a renovation project began in 2010 to bring it back to its former glory, so maybe someday it will be open again.
Behind it is a small graveyard.
I've never seen a graveyard like this before. There's no nature here. It's all paved. That graffiti was right. Cemetery flowers don't grow here!
A few of the graves are dated after the crash, which is pretty interesting.
The last stop in the village is the old chateau!
I was rather disappointed to find the old chateau completely collapsed into just a single-storey ruin, mainly because other urbexers have shown the mansion as a two-storey ruin. I'm too late.
But that's not to say it's not still worth seeing.
Here's an old photo of how it used to look:
(Photo not mine, obviously)
It was pretty sexy back in the day!
The chateau was built in 1860 for Theodore Adolphe Frapart, the son of Jean Frapart who was mayor of the town back then. Theodore was born in 1813 and he died in 1884. He had married Clara Poissonnier in 1838.
They had three children- Paul in 1840, Virginie in 1842, and Emma in 1844. So Paul would have been an adult by the time this chateau was built, while the daughters would have been eighteen and sixteen.
I find that a lot of these old rich families tend to have fancy homes built once their children reach adulthood, almost as if they want to celebrate their independence from parenting.
The chateau was apparently occupied by Theodore Fraparts descendants until 1983, meaning they stayed here for a full decade after the plane hit the village. They gradually watched the village population dwindle before finally leaving themselves, but apparently the family do still own it.
Access is pretty simple but as you can see, there's nothing much to see. The ceiling and upper floor have completely collapsed and nature is reclaiming it. It's less mansion now, more walled garden.
But there are still a few bits and bobs that hint at former refinery. It kinda reminds me of Chateau Clairdome, the first place I ever did in France. That place was built between 1815 and 1818 so it's possible that they had the same architect or that there was some inspiration.
That's all I've got for the village. Today life is slowly creeping back in. The population isn't quite as depleted as the media would have you believe, and while planes do fly over constantly, locals say that the noise isn't so bad anymore, because plane technology has become more refined.
Of course that does little to help with trauma, and that's the real issue. Attempting to persuade people to live happily next to an airport when they were having nightmares about their loved ones being killed and injured is really quite insensitive. Of all the places to build an airport, did it really have to be next to a village that a plane had crashed into? Whoever made that decision is either cold hearted or an idiot.
My heart goes out to the victims of the 1973 Paris Airshow. That includes the deceased and their loved ones. Little Baby Marjorie would be turning 53 this year. She could be watching her own children approach adulthood. An entire lifetime was just snuffed out.
But, we must face forwards.
My next blogs will be in the UK, and they'll be alright. But I will be focusing my attention back on France at some point.
In the meantime, if you like my blogs, the best way to stay updated with them is to follow me on social media. Social media is pretty dismal at the moment, but people are making positive steps to bring the fun internet back. So even though I am on the ragebaity cesspits that are Facebook, Twitter and Instagram, I really want to encourage more people to come over to Bluesky. Bluesky is everything Twitter used to be, and they've recently created their own version of what Instagram used to be, called PinkSky. I can be found on both of these, although at this point you do need a Bluesky account to set up a PinkSky. Definitely something they need to work on. There's also another favourite, Cara, which is definitely a great Instagram substitute for creative people. And of course there's Vero, let down because it's so buggy but still pretty decent. Find me on any of these, but most importantly, if we can support the non-shit social media apps, then that means at some point we can jump ship entirely and never have to put up with Zuckerberg ever again! Let's fucking go!
Thanks for reading!
