Public Tables

  • Waitng

    Waitng

    30,00 

    Waiting

    Waiting is not always an interruption.
    Sometimes it is simply a pause that life imposes, and that we accept without protest.

    We wait before speaking.
    We wait for traffic to clear, for a thought to finish forming, for someone else to arrive at the end of their sentence.
    We wait between two obligations, between a decision and its confirmation, between what is said and what is meant.

    Waiting can irritate, of course.
    But it can also soften things.
    It creates distance, perspective, even a certain pleasure — the pleasure of not rushing, of letting the moment ripen.

    In this conversation, waiting is not treated as a problem to solve.
    It is a shared condition.

  • When nothing special is happening

    When nothing special is happening

    30,00 

    When nothing in particular is happening.

    Most days pass without distinction.
    Nothing demands attention. Nothing insists on meaning.
    And, honestly, that is not a problem — it is often a relief.

    This conversation begins there.
    In the middle of days that do not need to be improved.

    There is no programme.
    No objective hiding behind the words.
    No moment to capture or justify.

    It is about something banal — a morning, a train, a silence at work.

    Time moves slowly, like coffee that goes cold while nobody minds.
    Nothing special happens — and that, precisely, is what makes the table agreeable.

  • When nothing special is happening

    When nothing special is happening

    30,00 

    When nothing in special is happening.

    Most days pass without distinction.
    Nothing demands attention. Nothing insists on meaning.
    And, honestly, that is not a problem — it is often a relief.

    This conversation begins there.
    In the middle of days that do not need to be improved.

    There is no programme.
    No objective hiding behind the words.
    No moment to capture or justify.

    It is about something banal — a morning, a train, a silence at work.

    Time moves slowly, like coffee that goes cold while nobody minds.
    Nothing special happens — and that, precisely, is what makes the table agreeable.

  • When time disappears

    When time disappears

    30,00 

    When time disappears  

    There are moments when time stretches.
    Others when it quietly steps aside.

    We speak of those instants when the clock no longer insists —
    while absorbed in work that finally makes sense,
    during a walk that goes a little further than planned,
    over a meal that takes its time,
    or in conversation, when no one feels the need to conclude.

    This is not about productivity or escape.
    It is about attention, a sensation, a habit, a moment you did not notice until it was already gone.

  • When time disappears

    When time disappears

    30,00 

    When time disappears  

    There are moments when time stretches.
    Others when it quietly steps aside.

    We speak of those instants when the clock no longer insists —
    while absorbed in work that finally makes sense,
    during a walk that goes a little further than planned,
    over a meal that takes its time,
    or in conversation, when no one feels the need to conclude.

    This is not about productivity or escape.
    It is about attention, a sensation, a habit, a moment you did not notice until it was already gone.