Infinite Threads

Author your own life.This page keeps nothing about you.

Most things built for you to use are also built to learn from you. That is the ordinary arrangement, and it is so ordinary that it usually goes unmentioned. I have opted out of it.

The calculators and pages here run entirely in your browser. Not anonymised, not aggregated, not held briefly and discarded. There is no code path by which anything you do here can leave your device, because none was written.

What is not in these pages

• no request that sends anything out — no fetch, no XMLHttpRequest, no sendBeacon, no socket
• no cookies
• no analytics, no pixel, no tag manager, no session recording
• no images, frames or scripts loaded from anywhere else
• no form, so there is nothing to submit
• no account, no sign-in, no identifier of any kind

If you set a birth date or a rising sign, it is written to your own browser and read back by your own browser. I cannot see it. Nobody can. Clear your browser data and it is gone, with no copy anywhere.

One exception, named rather than left out. These pages load two typefaces from Google Fonts, so Google sees that a browser somewhere opened the page — your address and your browser version, nothing else. None of your dates, choices or answers go with it. It is the single outbound request on the page, and I would rather tell you it is there than claim a clean sheet I don’t have. Hosting the fonts myself closes it, and that is on my list.

You do not have to take my word for any of this. Open any page here, view the source, and look for the words above. A promise about privacy is a sentence. This is a list of things that are absent, and absence is something you can check.

There is a cost and I will name it too. Without any of that machinery I cannot tell how many people come, what they do, or whether the work lands. This grows the slow way or not at all — one person telling another. I would rather build it this way and stay partly in the dark than know you by watching you.

The same rule runs through everything here. A symbol can offer you a word. It cannot tell you what your life means. The sky supplies the syntax; the sentence is yours to write.