Some of my pictures look like they were taken from my father’s old coffee table books. A certain genre of popularized high brow photography. The cameras had seen people from all corners of the world, being modernized through the marvels of contemporary technology, namely the motorcar & television. Look at that: industrious workers in clean looking surroundings, assembling some kind of machinery. Happy couples in front of the Atomium. Ah, and the Nagano cherry blossom of 1959. It was a modern world. When I browsed through these slowly yellowing tomes in the late seventies, they told already about its disappearance. For a lack of wreckage and ruins all around me I assumed the catastrophe in question had been a silent one.