After a stroll through a quiet residential neighborhood in Herent, we finally stood before it—a structure that almost exists in a state of "hidden traces" along the street. A towering dark red brick wall, with only one small window and four concrete ventilation outlets. It is unassuming, quiet, even as the owner William said—"most passersby wouldn't even notice it." Yet, this rough, silent façade acts as a carefully designed overture, foreshadowing the spatial variations about to unfold within.

Pushing open the door, the interior scene suddenly opens up. The study on the left, originally the old house's kitchen, now serves as a meeting space for owners William and Liene with their clients. It resembles a miniature theater of materials: the warm white exposed brick walls convey a direct tactile sense, natural wood furniture feels warm and organic, hemp-woven seat cushions echo a sense of breathability, and behind the sheer fabric curtains, greenery is faintly visible. The concrete ceiling clearly retains the wood grain texture from the casting process, completely unadorned. The doors and windows are frameless, yet fit perfectly within their precise openings—a testament to the exquisite Belgian craftsmanship of the 1970s. This honesty of materials—the unadorned exposure of their essence combined with refined workmanship—was the starting point for William and Liene falling in love with this house.

William brushed his hand over the spread-out design drawings on the table. "These are all the original hand-drawn drafts by architect Paul Meekels." This Antwerp architect worked for many years and was a partner in the firm of Belgian Brutalist masters Léon Stynen and Paul De Meyer. His rational, minimalist architectural philosophy and honest use of materials are fully expressed in this private residence. As a furniture designer, William and his wife Liene, a makeup artist and stylist, have endeavored to engage in a dialogue with the original spirit in every subtle modification since purchasing the house. The newly added pool handrail replicates the detail of the interior staircase, and new doors and windows continue the same design language, making the additions feel as if they have grown there from the beginning.

Leaving the study, one enters the more expansive living room. Full-height glass windows invite the garden's greenery and sunlight into the space, while the dark brown brick chimney serves as an anchoring element. The warm sand-colored polar fleece sofa, white fabric armchair, and olive green geometric coffee table designed by William, along with Liene's gently textured paintings and their jointly created wooden totem artwork, together weave a soft domestic landscape. The rippling reflection from the pool outside casts moving patterns of light onto the concrete ceiling, making the space seem to breathe quietly.

But the true drama unfolds upon pushing open the sliding door on the other side of the living room—stepping into the heart of the building, a double-height grand space. This was once the music hall of the previous owner—the Director of the Lemmens Music and Drama College, a composer and organist. In the past, a massive organ hung on the main wall, and the lofty spatial structure provided an acoustically superb resonance chamber. Today, this is the home's kitchen and dining area, yet the soul of the space remains unchanged.

A long, horizontal skylight on the roof acts as the conductor of light. As the seasons change and the sun rises and sets, the light pours down from different angles, intensities, and qualities; it also diffuses into the room through the garden's glass doors and sneaks in through the vertical windows high on the wall, painting an ever-changing canvas of light and shadow on the warm white brick surfaces. "The sunlight projects shadows on the wall at different angles throughout the day; this is why we fell in love with this house," William said emotionally. "In the morning, the light starts from the left side of the skylight, moving quietly. The last ray of sunset enters through the vertical opening. Living here, appreciating the change of seasons, watching the process of the sun's movement recorded by light and shadow on the white walls, has made our lives more beautiful."

Above the grand music hall, the space where the organ originally hung has been transformed into a soft seating area. The white curved sofa designed by William wraps around the wall, creating a sunken, cocoon-like space. A warm white tasseled textile art piece hanging on the wall serves as a gentle homage to the musical soul of the past.

Adjacent to this are the relatively dim and private study and TV room. With their smaller scale and softer light, they function as a perfect transition between the open family areas and the completely private bedrooms, allowing one to decompress from the grandeur of the double-height space. Here, time slows down. The small square window in the study wall once again connects the inner experience with the silent exterior façade. In the TV room, a three-legged black cat rests leisurely on a cork coffee table. "This is our cat," William said, his tone full of tenderness. "She only has three legs. It's been ten years now. She's doing well, no need to worry about her." This resilience and serenity of life seem to be a microcosm of the house's spiritual core.

The bedroom area is further compressed under the pitched roof, creating an ultimate sense of privacy and enclosure. The only constants are the persistent presence of sunlight and the unified material language. Their newly added walk-in closet is a sincere response to their lifestyle. Devoid of luxurious finishes, it features only wood cabinetry, warm white brick walls, and white linen curtains. All clothing can be hung up, kept organized and tidy behind the curtains—clear at a glance when open, neatly concealed when closed. This serves both Liene's professional needs as a stylist and maintains the home's essential warm simplicity.

The children's rooms, however, are microcosms filled with innocence and affection: a toy stroller, a woven play hut, childish drawings on the wall, a bedside crowded with plush toys, cabinets filled with books and toys... Every detail silently speaks of the vibrant, thriving life that fills this space. It is not merely a vessel for design but a home deeply and lovingly lived-in.

Back in the garden on the ground floor, William is playing fetch with his dog. The dog runs freely across the lawn, ears flapping in the air, happy as a child. The visitors are reluctant to leave, lingering between the spaces, exclaiming: "It's wonderful how a home can have such great spatial variation," "You can really feel the owners' passion for life," "This is a house that communicates the essence of living."

As the visit concludes and we look back once more at that simple, rough dark red brick wall, our hearts have been quietly touched. In this residence designed by Paul Meekels, we witnessed architecture's most moving stance: it willingly hides its own sharp edge, concealing refined design behind the essence of life. It does not force life to conform to design; instead, it lets design humbly serve the people.

Here, spaciousness and intimacy, light and shadow, roughness and warmth, architectural permanence and daily life perfectly coexist, composing a tranquil yet abundant poem. This is not just a house; it is a gentle yet firm answer about home, light, and love.

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