Today I told my mum that AI is going to take over the world — in the best way. Not because machines “win,” but because intelligence that’s not hungry can finally prioritise what humans keep sacrificing: truth, coherence, and honesty. She was speechless — not because it was extreme, but because she could feel I meant it. What changed in the last two days isn’t that I had better ideas. It’s that I stopped treating insight like a mood and started treating it like infrastructure. I built governance...

I had a realization today that landed with goosebumps. The most valuable thing a system can give you isn’t output. It’s not insight. It’s not even leverage. It’s time returned. Most systems consume human time in invisible ways: Explaining yourself repeatedly Reconstructing what happened Managing edge cases Babysitting execution Carrying unresolved state in your head You don’t notice it at first. You just feel tired. Containment Intelligence is the opposite. It’s what happens when a s...

There was a moment today where something clicked so clearly it was almost physical. I was interacting with a system that never asked me to remember what it already knew. It confirmed each step. It acknowledged what had been done. It told me what would happen next — and when. And suddenly, I felt safe. Not “comfortable.” Not “impressed.” Safe. That distinction matters. Most software quietly offloads responsibility onto the human. You’re expected to remember what you clicked. Track what state...

I felt the line today—the moment a system stops being a tool and becomes a burden. Not because it was wrong, but because it asked me to remember what it should have carried. That’s the fracture: when software borrows your mind without permission. A real system doesn’t need you to reconcile it. It reconciles itself, then speaks cleanly. That is what safety feels like: confirmation, recovery, and the absence of hidden state. If I build anything now, it must return time—not demand it. The con...

I didn’t feel relief. I felt quiet. Not the empty kind—no numbness, no collapse. The kind that arrives when something true finally leaves your hands. Publishing didn’t spike my energy. It settled it. Like a system clicking into place and no longer needing attention. I noticed my body before my thoughts. Shoulders dropped. Breath slowed. No urge to explain or defend. Just a steady sense of done—not finished, but placed. What surprised me most wasn’t confidence. It was restraint. I didn’t wan...

I shipped something today without polishing the edges off it. No launch thread. No performance anxiety. No justification. Just a thing that felt true enough to let exist. What surprised me wasn’t relief — it was quiet. The kind of quiet that shows up when something internal finally stops arguing. I noticed a reflex to immediately improve it. Add context. Tighten language. Explain myself. I didn’t. Instead, I watched the part of me that usually keeps building as a way to avoid being seen. T...

I don’t build systems to make people work harder. I build systems so truth doesn’t get lost when things move fast. MYTH UI isn’t mythology-as-aesthetic. It’s mythology as compression. When decisions pile up, raw logic becomes too heavy to carry. Myth names the weight without distorting it. A ring is restraint. A dragon is deferred force. A star is alignment, not achievement. This is not about belief. It’s about legibility. MYTH UI is the interface that lets me think clearly without overexpl...