Privacy

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A love letter tells you more in four minutes than a hundred photographs. One picture is enough if the eyes are the window. This house is built on that fact. It is also built on a harder one: what you write here is the real you, and the real you is not content. Industry standard, for us, is not more matching. It is less extraction, more consent, and a way to leave.

1. What this house refuses

   No swipe. No ranked faces. No streak. No location trail. No selling of souls to brokers. The big apps optimized for time-on-app. Tinder made a market of first impressions. Bumble opens on a stack of photographs. We ask for one window: the eyes. Then the letter. Hinge got closer, with prompts as a costly signal, and still lives inside Match Group’s data gravity. Raya sold privacy as prestige. We want privacy as dignity.

   Reading a letter saves the long, arid months of guessing. Dating is arduous when you are asked to perform a self for a feed. Here, you are asked to be one.

2. What stays on this device

   Your name, birth, chart, one portrait, chambers, letters, and tapestry notes live in this browser only. There is no account. There is no server copy of your wound. If you close the house, the writings go with you, unless you choose Leave the house, which burns them here.

   That is data minimization, which Apple, GDPR, and CCPA all ask for and which dating apps routinely fail. We collect nothing that is not required to compute a chart or keep a letter you asked to keep. Birth data is for the sky, not for a dossier.

3. Cookies

   We do not set advertising cookies. We do not run a tracker. Climate (day or night) and your writings live in this browser as local storage, because you asked the house to remember you on this device. That is not a third-party cookie. Clearing the site data, or Leave the house, erases it.

   When a living knock exists, we will name any cookie that is required for a passkey or a session. Default is still none for ads, none for brokers.

4. What we never take

   No precise location. No contacts. No camera roll as the door. No messages mined for advertising. No silent handoff of writings to an AI. The Electronic Frontier Foundation is clear: conversation contents are not training data unless you opt in. Your chambers are not icebreakers for a model. They are rooms.

   Sexuality, seeking, and the chart are intimate. Under European law they sit near special-category data. We do not process them off this device. When souls one day meet across devices, that meeting will require a second, explicit yes, chamber by chamber. Default is sealed.

5. Anonymous, and still honest

   You may arrive unnamed to the street and still specific at the table. A name you answer to, not a legal name. A region, not a pin. Eyes, a collage of what you find beautiful, or sealed until a letter. A decade, not a birthday. No workplace. No last name. No GPS trail. When two living people meet across devices, the veil travels with the letter. Reciprocal unsealing: they see more of you if you have also written.

   Typical matchmaking features live here as doors you close, not as a score. Who you will meet, an age you will sit with, children, faith, the people you come from: named so a letter is not wasted. We will not rank by heritage. We will not infer it from a photograph. We will not cluster same with same and call it compatibility. Chemistry is encounter, not a checkbox. The letter remains the match. The doors are so an ordinary week is not a surprise you hid from yourself.

   How you arrive

6. Sharing is an offering, not a feed

   Each chamber is private when you write it. You may later mark a chamber as offered, meaning it may be carried into a letter. Offered is not published. It is a key you still hold. The tapestry in this first house is a table of archetypal voices plus whatever you choose to pin here. It does not leave the device.

   When the house becomes networked, the standard will be reciprocal unsealing: a letter is readable by the other soul only if both have offered. No screenshot culture as a feature. No public ranking of pain. Report and block will exist before any stranger can read you. Apple requires that of any room with user-generated content. We will not ship a social layer without it.

7. Your hand, not a model

   A silent handoff of writings to an AI is already refused. Stronger: this house will not write, rewrite, or 'improve' your letter. A model may one day turn a sky-aspect into a question you can answer. It may not become your voice.

   We will not ship a detector that pretends to know a soul. Those tools fail, and they shame the wrong people. The fence is the room: no generate button, questions that ask for a life no corpus has, a vow that the page is yours. Spell-check is not a ghostwriter. A pasted feeling is. When letters leave this device, a soul may report a voice that is not a person.

8. Brené Brown, held as craft

   Vulnerability is uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure. It is not a performance of wound for points. Shame is the fear that if you are seen, you will be unworthy of connection. This house will not farm shame. Grace is for honesty, not for spectacle. The instrument itself is named on Love.

   Wholehearted people let go of who they thought they should be in order to be who they are. They also keep boundaries. Oversharing is not courage. A chamber may stay sealed forever and still count as real. You are not more lovable because you bled on the page. You are already worthy of the walk.

   Love · curiosity-love

9. How two people meet the street

   Letters can be the whole dyad. If you choose a room in the world: daylight, a public place, a friend who knows where you are. Your home is not a coordinate. Leave your own way.

   A first meeting can still be a letter: a poem at a bench, a view both can reach alone. Geocaching as a date. The letter leads. Neither follows the other into a private room. This house does not track you there. It will not sell a hunt.

10. If you go

    You must be eighteen or older. This is a house for adult love, becoming, and syzygy. The door is not for children.

    If your app does not need an account, Apple says let people in without one. That is our present tense. If accounts arrive so that two living people can exchange letters, deletion will live in the same room as creation. Designed to be left, as Hinge claims and rarely means. Download your writings first, if you want a file in your hand. Leave the house burns the local pages. No souvenir in a vault we never built.

The looking is the work. The covenant is how the looking stays clean. For the love and healing of humanity, we do not turn a soul into a product.