seven days, in writing. then, only if you both want it, a voice, a face, a number.
every introduction lasts a week. you set the pace. nothing here can be rushed. no one is ever left having to say no.
- iday one
introduction letters
a letter from each of you, sent at the same time. easy questions to answer about yourself in between, and while you're writing, so are they.
- ii–vthe days between
write at whatever pace feels right.
one letter a day or twenty. both are fine. little "what would you do…" moments and a question or two arrive along the way, each one opening the next letter in. faces wait until day five. no one can ask earlier. no one has to say no.
- vas day five closes
first their voice. then, perhaps, their face.
sixty seconds each. yours to them, theirs to you, arriving in the same moment. then, quietly, you each decide about photos. if you both say yes, they appear in the same breath.
you each choose alone. neither knows the other's answer. - viday six
numbers, if you both reach for them.
the same quiet question, now about contact details. it doesn't wait on photos. if carrying on matters more to you than a face did, you can still reach each other.
both opt in, or nothing is shared
- viiday seven
onward, or a gentle farewell.
today is yours to call.
carry it forwardone tap pauses everything. no new sundays. go and meet in person.let it closethe chat closes, and if up for it, a new batch arrives.
you only ever move forward together.
ask for an invitation →