We are in a typical village in between Brussels and Leuven. There is a church and, at its foot, a primary school. Every morning the bell calls the faithful and the bell invites the pupils to line up. The house is located a stone's throw away, on top of one of the last hills in Flemish Brabant.

When you enter, you pass through an entrance patio, a sort of antechamber. From there, you leave the village and step into the landscape. You enter a hall flooded with light through a skylight, before descending to the living room with its large windows.

And the swimming pool? It is sheltered in a sort of cave. When the weather is fine, the windows slide open, blurring the distinction between inside and outside.