Everything you read, watch and hear. One search away.
Save anything from any app. Search every word inside it, even the spoken ones, instantly and offline.
It starts the way it always does.
A walking tour, watched on the train. A podcast on a run. A friend’s list, scribbled at dinner. An essay at midnight, a screenshot, a PDF about rail passes. One day, Kyoto.
One tap, from wherever it is.
The share sheet in any app. One click in your browser. The camera, for a note in a friend’s handwriting. Six apps, and it all lands in one library.
Then each one opens up into words.
Speech becomes a transcript. Even a friend’s handwriting gives up its words. A page is kept whole, even after the link dies. Nothing you saved stays a silent file or a dead link.
Then you forget. That’s allowed.
The months fill up. Your library keeps everything, whole and still, while it grows around it. When a few saves belong together, it suggests a collection, and waits for you to say yes.
Half a memory is enough.
No data yet, and you’re hungry. You remember a ramen place, and that Aiko liked it, and nothing else. Search for what you mean. The whole library is on your phone, so it answers right there.
Five months of saving. One morning, planned.
Ask in your own words. The answer is made from your saves, the video, the podcast, Aiko’s note, the essay, the screenshot and the PDF, and every stop shows which one it came from.
Then walk it.
Turn the collection into a short programme, read aloud by a voice that runs on your phone. Then walk the streets you’ve been saving since March.
It starts the way it always does.
A walking tour, watched on the train. A podcast on a run. A friend’s list, scribbled at dinner. An essay at midnight, a screenshot, a PDF about rail passes. One day, Kyoto.
One tap, from wherever it is.
The share sheet in any app. One click in your browser. The camera, for a note in a friend’s handwriting. Six apps, and it all lands in one library.
Then each one opens up into words.
Speech becomes a transcript. Even a friend’s handwriting gives up its words. A page is kept whole, even after the link dies. Nothing you saved stays a silent file or a dead link.
Then you forget. That’s allowed.
The months fill up. Your library keeps everything, whole and still, while it grows around it. When a few saves belong together, it suggests a collection, and waits for you to say yes.
Half a memory is enough.
No data yet, and you’re hungry. You remember a ramen place, and that Aiko liked it, and nothing else. Search for what you mean. The whole library is on your phone, so it answers right there.
Five months of saving. One morning, planned.
Ask in your own words. The answer is made from your saves, the video, the podcast, Aiko’s note, the essay, the screenshot and the PDF, and every stop shows which one it came from.
Then walk it.
Turn the collection into a short programme, read aloud by a voice that runs on your phone. Then walk the streets you’ve been saving since March.
Somewhere today is something you’ll want in October.
A video, an episode, a friend’s note. Keep it. Free on the web, your iPhone and iPad, and your browser, all one library.
It lives on your devices, so it opens with no signal.
Your whole library exports in one file, any time.
Every AI feature is off until you switch it on.