Built in 1920 as Ospizio Sacra Famiglia, the structure was initially a retreat for lung patients seeking the health benefits of the crisp mountain air. Later, it transformed into a summer colony for orphaned children, offering them a chance to escape their hardships, if only for a season. Yet, the conditions were far from luxurious. Instead of cozy individual rooms, the children slept in vast dormitories, with rows of simple metal beds pressed closely together. Though they may have found companionship in their shared quarters, the lack of privacy and comfort undoubtedly made their stay challenging.

In front of the building, an old, rusting carousel still stands, its colors faded and its frame slowly overtaken by nature. Once a centerpiece of laughter and joy, it now spins only in the imagination, a haunting relic of the past. The sight of it, silent and still, evokes the bittersweet memories of the children who once played there.

The building’s chapel, located on the first floor, is the heart of the site. Its striking red cross still adorns the ceiling, a feature that has led urban explorers to nickname the place the “Red Cross Hospital.” The chapel, with its peeling walls and faint echoes of prayers, remains one of the most captivating yet somber parts of the building. Religious inscriptions above the entrance and the emblematic cross point to its ties with the Camillian Order, a Catholic community devoted to the care of the sick.

Every corner of this abandoned retreat seems to whisper stories of the past—of children’s laughter, quiet prayers, and the fleeting moments of hope that once filled its walls. It is a place where the line between nostalgia and decay blurs, leaving visitors captivated by its solemn allure.