Liminal Tarot
A practice, not a prediction.
A private place for the questions that keep circling back — a job you can't decide on, a relationship that feels different this time, a season you can't name yet. You draw a card, write what you notice, and the app keeps it.
The cards don't decide anything. They give your attention a shape — something to look at instead of staring straight at the thing. What you notice is the reading.
One reading is a moment. Kept together, they become a record: which questions returned, which cards kept showing up, what changed between March and June. That record is the practice, and it's the part you can't get anywhere else.
A surface you return to, not a chatbot.
Drawing a card should feel deliberate, not like submitting a form. The craft is the point: the surfaces, the type, the motion. Step through the record.
The cards are a mirror, not a crystal ball.
Shuffling…
Built like a product, not a demo.
One codebase, three surfaces, real accounts and real data behind every screen. The shape is here; the internals stay the studio's.
The product is the thread.
A single reading is a moment. A chapter is a period of life — readings gathered around one question until a pattern you couldn't see from inside it becomes visible.
People reach for tarot at thresholds: a decision, a loss, a drift, a fear that keeps returning. The card doesn't answer it. It gives the question a frame — something to examine instead of circle. What you write down is the real work.
Any single reading is easy to get anywhere. A private record of months of them is not. Synthesis reads across the thread and reflects it back — the cards that keep recurring, the question that quietly changed shape. That's the part that compounds, and the reason it's a practice and not a parlour trick.
It's the studio thesis too: one operator, one repeatable pipeline, each output built to compound into the next. Liminal is the proof of it.
What's shipped, newest first.
Appended from source as the product evolves.