Description
There are places you don't find by chance. This one, for example. A road that wanders off, cypress trees leaning in the wind like in an old painting, the Gers at its gentlest. Not a sound, barely a church tower ringing, and the Pyrenees in the distance, like a promise. We're close to Lectoure, but not too close. Just close enough to go have a coffee and read the local newspapers in the morning, meet two friendly faces, grab something for lunch, and then head home quickly. Find peace and quiet. Close the gate. It's very similar, but it's not the Luberon, and so much the better. No crowded terraces, no lukewarm rosé under over-the-top arbors, no snobs in sunglasses so you can't see they're complete strangers. Here, luxury is elsewhere. In the silence. In the space. In that way of not being noticed. The house seems to have never wanted to be anything other than what it is: a group of stone buildings, placed there with a certain obviousness. Like a private hamlet, but without folklore. The roofs are just right, the materials are worn, the walls are thick. There's a certain sense of discretion. Nothing is garish. Yet everything is there. The volumes. The light. The materials chosen for their authenticity rather than their effect. Wood, stone, lime. Sometimes a more contemporary detail, but slipped in just for emphasis. There's taste, real taste, not that ostentatious good taste that tires. It's a house that knows restraint. And that's rare. There's the main house, first of all—vast, sober, comfortable without pretension. It makes you want to stay, to cook, to read, to not answer the phone. And then, a little to one side, there's the gîte. A real one. Not an annex cobbled together to make the most of weekends. No. A separate place, independent, cared for with the same high standards. A place to welcome without imposing, to share without disturbing. A home within a home, in short. For friends, family, or no one. It's a house to live in all year round, or to return to each season like reopening a beloved book. A house apart, in its own right. It doesn't seek to please everyone—and that's what makes it precious. It awaits those who know. You can come with books, records, silences. Or do nothing. That would be a lot. Everything is ready. Turnkey, as they say. But the key here is, above all, that of privacy. A door that you gently close behind you. And the world can go on without you. Information on the risks to which this property is exposed is available on the Géorisques website.
