Last known photo of Les sœurs Moutarde in front of their caravan (1978, Saint-Mystère, France; Tribute to Ralph Eugene Meatyard).
At the far edge of Saint-Mystère, beyond the reach of regular paths, stood a white caravan. Since 1973, it had been the home of Églantine and Ursule Moutarde — two sisters who, after their house burned down, chose silence over rebuilding.
They kept to themselves. Always together. One wrapped in a coarse blanket, the other in a suit worn thin. They never spoke. Not to villagers, not even to each other. But in Saint-Mystère, that was not unusual. Not since the silence began.
Each morning they sat outside, side by side, unmoving — as if listening to something deep and old. No one disturbed them. Questions were considered dangerous. Presence was enough.
In 1978, a traveler passed through and took their photo. They did not smile. They did not blink. They simply allowed the moment.
Weeks later, they were gone. Chairs empty. Caravan locked. No farewell, no sign of where or why.
Only the silence remained. And in Saint-Mystère, that is explanation enough.