When Le Corbusier drowned off the coast of Roquebrune-Cap-Martin on August 27, 1965, he left behind a slew of majestic modernist buildings and an enduring epitaph: une maison est une machine à vivre. But the machine Corbu had been living in until that fateful swim was a humble log cabin of his own design, its timber-lined interior measuring precisely 3.6 metres by 3.6 metres.

It’s that tiny typology that resonates most with this moment. As cities become hotspots of disease and dysfunction, rural idylls are high on our minds. And since working from home now seems feasible, at times even pleasing, a cabin of one’s own has new appeal.