Your own shelf, in a library of shelves
Every member stocks their own. You write, and you are read. What you make sits on your shelf under your own name — and nothing here is an account: no email, no password, no profile beyond the name you choose. Your shelf is a key, born on this device and never sent anywhere. Known when you speak; unseen when you read.
Real names are welcome and never verified — verifying would mean collecting documents, and we don't. Nothing is tied to you but the key on this device.
You sign it here, on this device. Your key never leaves — only the signature travels, so nobody can put words on your shelf and you cannot later be disowned from your own.
This view includes what is private and what is still waiting for a steward. Anyone else sees only your shelf ring and whatever the commons carried.
Every card here is a member's own work, carried at the member tier. The library amplified it; the library did not verify it. That distinction never quietly disappears.
Lend your shelf by handing someone its address — that is the whole mechanism. Nothing records that they came, or what they read.
The queue is open to read on purpose: you can see what is waiting and how long it has waited. Acting on it is a steward's work — it needs the steward's key, because a typed name is not authority.
Kept in this tab only, never stored. Every act you take is recorded with your name and your reason, and the record is append-only.
Three rings, and the gate is only ever on the last one. A private drop is yours alone. A shelf drop is live the moment you sign it — no queue, no approval, because the gate here is on what the library amplifies, never on what a member may say. Only a commons offer waits, and it waits for a human who has to give a reason either way. A refusal withholds amplification and nothing else: your words stay on your shelf. And a promoted card never becomes the library's claim — it stays yours, at the member tier, with your name on it.