Capture what's on your mind before it slips away.
A day with drft
9:41 · tuesday
From the lock screen, you type or speak. No filing, no tags, no deciding where it goes. Ten seconds and it's out of your head.
Behind the screen, drft finds the older thoughts it echoes and links them for you. Nothing to confirm, nothing to name.
invite the new neighbors over for dinner before it gets weird
kept · unfiled
7:00 · three weeks later
Every morning, one email: a single thought you kept, in your own words. You read it — that's it. Nothing to answer, nothing to file.
from drft
invite the new neighbors over for dinner before it gets weird
You kept this three weeks ago.
open in drft
If it itches, that one link opens your collection: the thought, the older ones it turned out to echo, and a quiet way to set it down when it's done being thought about.
sunday · when you're ready
On the web, open a thought and follow the older fragments it echoes. Search your collection, set a connection aside, or let the thought rest.
Nothing writes back.
Never a feed.
Never a pile.
Never "you have 12 unprocessed thoughts."
A home for thoughts that aren't anything yet.