Nothing really starts from scratch. Everything we do carries traces of the past—ideas, gestures, mistakes, intentions that blend together until they no longer have clear boundaries. The new is always made up of remnants, overlaps, and echoes.

Mesh talks about this: about the inevitable clash between layers, times, and decisions. About how randomness mixes with control, and what seemed disposable finds a new role. It is a reflection on continuity and on the impossibility of separating the past from the present.

There are no pure beginnings or defined endings. There is only accumulation, tension, and transformation. A constant noise of everything that mixes and, somehow, continues to make sense.