The top reads like a small archipelago: the walnut slices settle into the circle without ever touching, each keeping a visible channel of space around it. Black resin fills those channels and holds the pieces in one body, yet it never closes the distance between them. Nearer the rim the resin turns clear, opening pale windows in the dark ground that hand the light straight back. Dark bark lines run along the edges of the wood and growth rings ripple across the islands, while the thick, upright edge of the top carries the same pour with amber flecks caught inside it. The surface is polished flat, so wood and resin pass under the hand as one plane. Below sits a slender frame of three splayed hairpin legs in aged brass, carrying the heavy circle as though it weighed very little. As daylight moves, the balance between black ground and clear openings shifts, and the table looks a little different in the same corner every hour.