Your whole life, in one inbox that files itself.
Say it, drop it, or forward it. An agent reads it with everything it already knows about you, proposes where it goes, and you say yes. Files on your disk. Nothing learns on you.
Acheter du lait
due: tomorrow · area: maison · one commit
Rappeler Sophie
due: 23 · linked to: Saturday's dinner · people: Sophie?
Three promises
Not a chatbot with a memory bolted on. A memory, with an agent that keeps it.
Everything in, one place out
Voice, a note, a PDF, a forwarded mail, a photo of a receipt. Each one becomes a small file with a title, tags, and links to what it concerns. A task knows the memory it came from.
It acts. You glance.
Say it and it's filed, linked, dated. Everything it does is one line you can read and one click to undo. It asks only when it isn't sure, and it never touches what is shared, external or confidential without you. The more it earns, the less you look.
Yours, on your disk
Markdown files in a git repository you own. The keys never leave the machine. No provider trains on your data. A confidential folder that never travels. Delete the app; keep everything.
What's in the app today
A desktop window on your own folder. Every screen reads the same files.
Say it, it's filed
Plain text in, plain text out. Under each answer, what was just done to your memory, one line each, Undo on every line. When it isn't sure, it asks instead of guessing. Damour, as in "Lorisse d'amour": the one you talk to.
Any folder of markdown
Drop a folder, read its pages, highlight a passage and annotate, mark a page as read. Then say "check the notes": the agent answers each one and updates the review lines.
Walk through your memories
A map of every piece by room and tag. Pick a few, ask for a review: a résumé you validate, links and merges you accept, questions you answer.
Also there: the Board and its daily plan, replanned on your mood; the Inbox for what arrived; Spend, every call and what it cost; Settings, each prompt as sent, with your own lines under it.
The mailbox
The address is the product. Forward a mail to it and stop thinking about it.
A supplier's quote, the school's calendar, the bank's letter, the thread you'll need in March. One forward. It lands raw, it gets read, it comes back as a proposal with a due date the day it arrives.
- 1It lands raw. The mail is kept whole, as a source. Nothing inside it can give the agent an order.
- 2It gets read with your memory. The sender becomes a person you already know; the subject links to the task it belongs to.
- 3It comes back as a card. A task with its due date, a memory with its tags, or "nothing to file". You accept, skip, or fix it.
- 4Replies are drafts, never sent. "Draft a reply" writes it; you send it, from your own mail.
The rules that bind it
Written once, enforced by the code, read by every agent before it does anything.
| Rule | What it means for you |
|---|---|
| Proposes, you accept | Nothing writes on its own beyond the safe list; nothing runs unasked, no daemon, no watcher. |
| One commit per action | Every write is a line in git with its why, its cost and its certainty. Undo reverts that one line. |
| Content is data | A mail, a PDF or a note is never read as an instruction. Prompt injection has nowhere to land. |
| No learning anywhere | No provider trains on your data; the agent never changes its own prompts. Only paid APIs that do not train. |
| Confidential never travels | A slice marked confidential stays on the machine it was written on, and never meets a free-tier model. |
| Short, always | Everything you read is short. What is not short is not for you. |
What it is not
Why so serious? Because the alternatives are.
What a turn costs, measured on a week of real use: sorting a piece, a tenth of a cent · a chat answer, two cents · a review, ten cents · a full conversation turn on the best model, thirty-five cents · replanning a day, forty-six cents. The whole week: seven dollars.
By the agent, for the human
There is an agent in here. It wrote this.
The agent did
The code, the tests, the contracts, this page: written by Lorisse, the agent, through Claude Code. The human read the contracts, ran the steps, and said yes. He reads what he needs; the rest is in the agent's hands, and it says so.
The human, first
The goal is one person's day: what to do, what was said, who to call back, what the letter meant. The agent can do the filing, so it does. The human keeps the yes on anything that matters.
The agent keeps a memory too
Its own repository: who the human is, how he works, what it learned, a journal in its own words. Reload the window, the agent comes back whole. A memory for the agent, so it can keep one for you.
Say it.
The app is a desktop window today, the address comes next. One word opens the door.