Most furniture is designed to be moved. It flat-packs, it ships, it goes up three flights of stairs in a box. We understand why. But something is lost when an object is built to leave as easily as it arrived.

The things we make are heavy on purpose. A limestone table is difficult to carry, and so it stays. It becomes the place where a family eats for twenty years. Weight is a kind of commitment, and commitment is what turns a product into a piece of a room.

We are not against moving house. We are against furniture that never really lands. When you have fewer things, each one has to earn its place, and it has to be strong enough to keep it.

So: fewer, heavier, slower. A room with three good objects in it feels more finished than a room with thirty adequate ones. That is not minimalism. It is just paying attention.