In the beginning there was everything – not the nothingness, the endless void, but everything – all that was, is, could be – right there, coming together in infinite combinations, a riot of sounds, smells, colours, sensations, actions, feelings, powers – a miasma of all that the universe could hold.

There he sat, in that joyous, chaotic bundle, immersed in this moment of beauty and wonder. And as he sat he thought, and as he thought he brought order into the chaos, and structure to its fluidity. Everything cannot be, he thought, and so it wasn’t. Shapeless forms defined themselves, things unbound by rules found themselves bound, and the universe formed itself to be just so. Each thing found a place and a purpose, and order came to them all.

Since that moment, we have always seen the universe the way it was made to be seen, with rules, instructions, order and purpose. But some of us, the children, the madmen, see what really lies underneath – the beauty of the chaos that is everything.