Some stories we tell in instalments, the way a lamp is made: one gesture after another, each waiting for the last. Over the past months we have followed Selene through four episodes — the sketch, the first flawed casting, the long winter of revisions, the quiet morning when she finally held her light steady. This is the last one.

Finally home

In September, Selene came back to our workshop. Not as a drawing, not as a prototype wrapped in foam, but as a finished lamp with a name and a weight of her own. We set her on the bench where the first sketch was made, switched her on, and stood around in the fading afternoon while her small moon of light gathered on the wall. Nobody said much. After all those months of talking about her, there was nothing left to say.

A lamp is finished when it stops being an idea and starts being company.

The letters kept arriving long after we thought the story had closed. A schoolteacher in Lyon read an episode aloud to her class. A woman in Copenhagen wrote to tell us she watches Selene's light travel across her kitchen wall each evening, a slow bright hand. A man in Kyoto said only that he recognised his late wife in the way we described Selene waiting in the dark. We read every one at the bench, between sanding and wiring. That is the part we did not expect: an episode ends, a story does not.

So the serial closes here, and Selene stays. She is in the collection now, and on a few desks and bedside tables we will never see. Thank you for reading her into being, episode by episode. We will keep the bench lamp on.