Aion
Aion
Diary as instrument.
Cartography
A year collapsed into a single grid. Twelve months by thirty-one days. Every cell carries the real moon phase for its date, and the busier the day, the larger its mark. Cities line the left margin — hover one and the entire year reshapes around that place. You see not a calendar, but the shape of your year.
Chronicle
One entry per day. Every timestamp inherits the hue of its hour — dawn pale gold, noon white, dusk violet, the small hours near-black. The text is set in Bembo with ligatures and oldstyle figures. Write a colour name and the word responds in pigment. The editor is invisible until you need it, and invisible again the moment you don't.
Patterns
Two twelve-hour rosettes, AM and PM, drawn like the faces of a watch. Each petal grows with the words written in that hour. A needle sweeps the current dial in real time. Hover a city and the petals morph to show only that place's rhythm — your writing day in Berlin looks nothing like London.
Type cochineal and the text turns the colour of that pigment — from Werner's 1814 taxonomy of the natural world. Gamboge. Verdigris. Ultramarine. Sixty-two words, each rendered in the colour of the mineral, insect, or plant it was named for.
Every minute of the day has its own precise hue. Dawn entries are pale gold. Dusk is deep violet. You'll remember I wrote that at dusk before you remember the date.
The diary has a command line. Type /moon and the footer tells you tonight's phase. Type /streak and it counts your consecutive days. Type cd tomorrow and you're there.
Software with soul.
$27
One-time. No subscription. macOS 14 or later.