The factory has always been there, right before our eyes. Ghost-like, facing the open sea of Cap Corse. It was the largest asbestos mining site in Europe. A concrete monster born of the post-war years, inseparable from the landscape \u2014 so merged with the cliffs that the two became one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Its brutal beauty \u2014 grey, stepped fa\u00e7ades rising out of the mountain \u2014 fills the eye as powerfully as the blue, majestic coastline of the Gulf of Saint-Florent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In this still-wild corner of Corsica, the factory is everywhere: in people\u2019s stories, in the homes and buildings of the village of Canari, in the tally of those who have died, in every sweeping view of the land. But it is a taboo story, because it is an ambivalent one. It gave work. It brought death.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In 2026, sixty years after its closure, the factory will be entirely destroyed. A world first: no asbestos site of this scale has ever been dismantled. The operation is colossal and high-risk. How can the machines travel the Cape\u2019s winding roads? How can the inhabitants be protected? And what is to be done with this painful memory?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As the mechanical jaws finish devouring the fa\u00e7ade, the stories emerge. They rebuild the mental image of the factory and its indelible imprint.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They speak of a visceral, paradoxical attachment to a landscape of the Anthropocene.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But once the factory has been completely erased, what story will the next generation tell? And in what identity will they recognise themselves?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"menu_order":91,"template":"","productioncategory":[18],"class_list":["post-2347","production","type-production","status-publish","hentry","productioncategory-in-production"],"yoast_head":"\n