Growing up, Damien Boucher always felt that there was something strange about his father's

side of the family.

On his mother's side, there were big gatherings and endless stories.

But all Damien knew about his paternal grandfather, Pierre Jean Boucher, was that he'd grown up on

the French island of Corsica, La Corsa, and that he had no stories to tell.

I found that weird.

My grandfather never spoke of his childhood yet.

He never spoke of his childhood.

When I asked questions, he said nothing.

I felt that there was a secret.

In 2001, when he was 22, Damien lost both of his paternal grandparents.

He had never been close to them, but he wanted to help his dad with a difficult task of emptying

their apartment in Paris.

It was a mess.

The apartment was sad.

It was very undisciplined.

And there was old paper everywhere.

I looked at my grandparents, their photos, their books,

these objects, these were their lives.

For me, it was strange because I didn't feel much.

I wasn't close to my grandparents.

Damien noticed a document his father had just left on a chest of drawers by the door.

...