It begins like any other story of wealth. An entrepreneur sells his tech company, his bank account swells, and the possibilities seem endless. But what happens next is anything but ordinary. Marcel LeBrun, the Canadian millionaire, takes his millions and doesn’t build mansions, doesn’t buy yachts, and doesn’t chase the fleeting glamour of luxury markets. Instead, he builds houses - 99 small, fully equipped houses for people who own nothing but their stories.
Fredericton, a small town in New Brunswick, Canada, becomes the setting for an experiment that is radical in its simplicity. These houses, each equipped with its own kitchen, bathroom, and solar panels, are far more than shelters. They are not temporary solutions, not cheap huts set up in the shadow of social injustice. They are solid, dignified, and above all - they are homes.
But LeBrun's vision goes beyond building houses. He has understood that four walls alone cannot save a life. Around the small houses, a community emerges. A coffee house opens its doors - not a place for charity, but a space for connection. A teaching kitchen is established where people not only learn to cook but acquire a skill that can take them further. Small businesses offer opportunities for self-employment, for a self-determined life - a microcosm of possibilities growing in the midst of a society that so often looks away.
“It is not about charity,” says LeBrun. And in this sentence lies the whole difference. Charity is the brief impulse to calm one's conscience - a coin tossed into a cup, a fleeting look to check if one's heart is still beating. But dignity - dignity is something else. Dignity is the conviction that every person deserves not only a roof over their head but also a chance - the chance to stand up again, the chance to feel human again.
LeBrun doesn’t build walls between the desperate and the wealthy - he builds bridges. He doesn’t build palaces for the rich - he builds sanctuaries for the lost.
In the dawn, the small houses stand like glowing squares, each of them its own world. The solar panels on the roofs glitter in the first light, while the porches, adorned with flowers and chairs, breathe the spirit of community. They are not the gaudy mansions of the rich, but simple, warm homes. They tell the story of a vision that values people above money.
On the gravel paths between the houses, construction equipment stands, its tires leaving tracks in the damp ground. Workers carry tools - some wear blue shirts, others simple jackets. The hum of machines mingles with the whisper of the wind in the trees at the edge of the settlement. It is a place of movement, of building, of hope.
Seen from above, the solar panels on the roofs look like black boards capturing light and turning it into life. A green carpet of grass spreads between the small houses, benches invite people to rest. Flowers in pots, carefully tended, stand at the entrances - a symbol that here, it is not only about building but also about living.
Marcel LeBrun walks across the site, talking to the workers. He is not an absent financier, not just a name on a plaque. He is here. He watches as each house rises, as each roof receives its shining solar panels. For him, it is not a project - it is a vision.
And the people who will live here? They are not an anonymous mass - they are stories. There is the single mother who, after years on the streets, can lock her own door for the first time. The veteran who finds peace in one of the small houses. Or homeless people. The elderly couple who discover new dishes in the teaching kitchen and laugh again.
LeBrun's houses are not walls. They are bridges - bridges between the past and the future, between despair and hope, and between those who can give and those who have the courage to start anew.
English 
German 
