A table above the city

A rooftop restaurant in Paris, high above the street. The room asked for very little: light that behaves like evening, and nothing on the tables that a gust of wind could carry off. We began with the sky, which was already doing most of the work.

We lit the tables with the Nacre cordless pieces — a brass rod, a floating disc, three steps of light under one hand. Each table carries its own small moon. Guests lean in, the disc warms, faces come forward, and the city behind them slips back into blue. Where the room wanted height rather than glow, we placed a single floor piece by the stair head. It holds the line of the parapet and leaves the horizon untouched.

No cable crossed the terrace. No fixture argued with the view. The light stays low and warm and close to the people who came for one another.

Dinner begins when the sun does not.