Some moments never really leave us.

People may leave, but what they gave us stays.

Once felt, some things are never forgotten.

Missing them is its own kind of love.

Even after years, a moment can still feel close.

Nothing we truly loved is ever completely gone.

SPOMEN. Before this year becomes a memory. 2026 closes in. Until the archive opens to the world. Leave a memory.

Over 8,000,000,000 lives. One shared year. No two of us will remember 2026 the same way.

Room for 100,000,000 memories. All from 2026. A finite collection. A place for your part of the year. The year will pass. Your part of it can stay.

Some years change us quietly. What will you remember about 2026? A first time. A familiar street. Someone who made an ordinary day matter. Leave a little of your 2026 here. Kept through the year. Opened together on 1 January 2027.

SPOMEN

WHY I’M BUILDING SPOMEN · 2026

One shared year.
A different story for everyone.

I want to make a place for the parts of a year that matter to the person who lived them.

2026 will mean something different to each of us. A first time. A familiar street. A night with friends. Someone who made an ordinary day matter.

That is what I want SPOMEN to hold: many lives, remembered in our own words, side by side.

The collection has a limit. The year has an end. On 1 January 2027, we open what we kept, together.

I’m building this because I want to see what one year looks like through all of us.

THE PERSON BEHIND SPOMEN