As a child, Bram Vav Meervelde dreamed of becoming a paleontologist. Of digging through eternal layers in search for shark teeth, the more the better, with the childish (Or, should it read: philosophical?) marvel at the number of sharks that must have swum there, at the banks of that very familiar, sharkless Scheldt. Amazed by and in adoration of how one can look in the present at the past. How something as ordinary as the Scheldt almost points directly to such magic. Endlessly stratified and dripping with stories, reality surpasses any fiction. The world is chaos, and even more: beautiful chaos. The beauty and virtuosity of a window covered in paint which has started to crackle and flake off after years and years of exposure to the elements almost moves one to tears, doesn’t it?