Write one line
It takes about twenty seconds, on the night it happened. There are no prompts or streaks, so you only open it when something is worth keeping.
Think back over last month. A few days probably stand out, and the rest have run together.
Keepsake is a private notebook for the days you want to remember.
If you share a day with someone who was there, they write their own line about it. Between you, you keep more of the evening than either of you would alone.
297 days of this year are behind you. 68 are left.
It takes about twenty seconds, on the night it happened. There are no prompts or streaks, so you only open it when something is worth keeping.
They write their own line about the same evening, and can add their photo of it. You get back the part you didn't write down.
Every day you keep darkens a square, so you can see the shape of your year before you read any of it.
It stays private. Nobody reads an entry unless you share that day with them.
That was Oct 18, a week ago.
Short enough to write half asleep. Read it again in a year and you’ll remember how the call felt, which a photo of the evening couldn’t tell you.
You
J.
You each write your own line, and you can read each other’s.If they took a photo that night, it lands on the same page.
Your week feels twice as long.
People who note a new experience later estimate that twice as much time has passed. The brain, given a marker, stretches the day around it.
Wittmann & Lehnhoff, 2005
You get back a quarter more of the day.
Putting words to what happened, even briefly, increases the number of distinct memories you can later recall.
Pennebaker & Seagal, 1999
Your sleep finishes the job.
A few sentences before sleep strengthen how the day consolidates overnight. The same week, recalled with more texture.
Walker, 2017
Skipping days is fine. The grid only fills in for the ones you wanted to keep.
Keepsake is invite-only while it’s early. Asking for an invite puts you on the waitlist.