Forty inches long, twelve deep, thirty tall — proportions the designer refined until the table could stand behind a sofa, along a hall, or under a mirror without crowding any of them. The top is a single teak board, solid through with no veneer to chip at a corner, and the artisan shapes the base by hand.
Once it is placed, the wall it stands against stops being leftover space. A lamp, a framed photo, the evening's small rituals — and the day a guest trails a hand along the oiled grain and asks about it, the quietest piece in the house has done its work. Buy the board once and re-oil it at year ten; there is no year-three replacement waiting.