Good evening.
Launching soon on iPhone — join now to be first
A journal that remembers.
By Sunday, you can't remember Tuesday. The story your father never finished telling. The friend you meant to call back. Most of what actually happened this year has already slipped past you — Delia keeps the small things you would otherwise lose, and gives your year back to you. Talk or type for a minute; she listens for what matters and lets the rest go.
One email. She launches first on iPhone. Nothing else.
She remembers on her own — nothing to keep up, nothing tracked, nothing sold.
Still only in this browser. Ask the page to forget it.
How it works
Talk or type.
Say what happened today — out loud or typed. A minute is enough.
She listens for what matters.
Not a transcript. Delia pulls out the names, the dates, the moments worth keeping — and lets the rest go.
You get it back.
See exactly what she kept. Edit or delete any of it. Watch it become a note about your week, then a letter about your year.
A scripted demo, not a live conversation — but the voice is real: this is Delia's own voice from the app, not a placeholder.
See it in a minute
A short walkthrough video is coming.
Not filmed yet, so there's nothing to embed today — the voice demo above is real, and this will be too, the day it exists. Nothing staged in the meantime.
Try something
Name one small moment from this week.
Anything. Something someone said. Something you noticed and told no one.
It stays in this browser. It is never sent anywhere — this page has no analytics and nothing to send it to. Ask the page to forget it any time.
One ordinary week
You wrote three sentences. She kept the thread.
Tuesday, 9:12 pm
Thursday, 6:40 pm
The next Tuesday, 8:05 am
Friday, 8:00 am
One year later
From the letter she wrote about that year
In June, Mike's dad had his surgery, and you were the one who called that morning. The garden gave you tomatoes for the first time — you said it felt like it happened overnight. You noticed more that year than you think you did.
Every year, a letter about your year — in your words. The letter can only hold what you gave her.
What makes her different
You can see everything she remembers.
Every name, every date, every moment — listed plainly, in your words. Edit any of it. Delete any of it. Nothing hidden.
Illustration, not your data
What Delia remembers, from an ordinary week
- PEOPLEMike — his dad had surgery this month.
- MOMENTSFirst tomatoes from the garden.
- PLANSCall Mike Tuesday morning.
This is a mockup, but the delete button is real — press it. In the app, this is the actual view, and deleting is permanent there too.
Conversations delete themselves after 24 hours.
You can watch it happen. Only the memories that matter stay — the talk that carried them goes.
Your words are never sold. Never used to train anyone's AI.
Not now, not after an acquisition, not ever. It is written into how the company is allowed to operate, with 90 days notice and a full-deletion window before any change. Read the full commitment.
You might know some of these
Your weeks blur together.
By Sunday you can't remember Tuesday. Delia gives you back the texture of your own life.
You have things in your head with nowhere to put them.
Too small for therapy, too private for friends, too long for a text. Delia listens.
You forget the moments that mattered.
If you don't catch them within two days, they're gone. Delia catches them.
Your stories will be lost if no one asks.
How you met. What your father was actually like. Delia helps you put them down on purpose.
Most apps would sell what you just read.
This one shows you what it knows, and sells nothing to anyone.
You're tired of apps that demand your attention.
No guilt, no reminders you didn't ask for. If you don't open Delia for two weeks, that's fine.
The year, handed back
Every Friday, a note about your week. Every year, a letter about your year.
At the end of a year, what you gave Delia becomes something you can hold — a letter in your own words, a reel of your moments, and if you choose, a printed book of your stories for the people you love.
Some people start Delia for themselves. Many begin as a gift — a year of being remembered, for a parent whose stories you don't want to lose.
A real letter, from a real year — not a mockup
See a full sample letter and book →
A real reel, made from a real year — not a mockup
In development
Pictures for the moments no one photographed.
The reel above is built from your own pictures, the way it works today. For moments nobody photographed, she's being built to create a scene to sit alongside it instead of leaving a blank space.
Coming — not available today
The rule, by design: she never invents a face. Only hands, or a silhouette — never a likeness. It stays yours to picture.
This isn't live yet. No AI-generated images ship in the app today — this describes a design decision already locked in, not a current capability.
What you will not find
- No streaks.
- No badges.
- No feed.
- No ads.
- No voice cloning.
- No "we miss you."
What we refused to build is most of what we built.
What people are saying
She hasn't launched yet, so there's nothing here yet.
The first real notes from real people — and her first App Store reviews — will replace this the day they start coming in. Nothing invented in the meantime.
One more thing
She's ready when you are.
One email when she launches. Nothing else.