Every site here is your own little place — a simple page you keep by hand, the way homepages were before the feed ate everything. No two are built the same way. Some people write theirs from nothing; some never open a file. Both get the same subdomain, and nobody reviews either one.
Your subdomain comes with a page already made — a little desktop with folders: writing, movie reviews, poems, books, a shop, whatever you keep. Open it, click this is my house in the footer, and paste your save key. Now every folder grows a box: a title, the words, Add. That's the whole job — no build step, no repo, nothing to install.
Or take the subdomain and put anything you like on it. Hand-written HTML, Hugo, Eleventy, a Python script — if it makes static files, it works. Keep the four webring links in your footer and the rest is yours. The junk drawer has drop-ins — a guestbook, a hit counter, a marquee — you can paste into a page you wrote yourself.
The page you're given is plain on purpose, and already a place. Out of the box it has:
| thing | what it is |
|---|---|
| Folders | Writing, movie reviews, poems, books, the shop — open like a computer. Add whatever kinds you keep; empty ones say so, kindly. |
| A record shelf | List the records you love; drop an audio file next to one and it plays, right on the page. |
| A guestbook | People sign it, it stays. Text only, never markup, and yours to tidy. |
| A hit counter | An honest one — it counts visits, and says so plainly rather than starting at a made-up forty thousand. |
| The webring | Four links every house keeps, so a visitor can wander from yours to the house next door and back. |
Change the words, the records, the folders. Strip it back to almost nothing, or fill every corner. What you leave is what people find.
Writing to your house is proven by a save key, not a password. Mint one on your dashboard — it's shown exactly once. Paste it into your site the first time you press this is my house, and it stays in that browser. After that, adding a poem or a review is a box and a button.
A key isn't an account. It only lets someone write words to one house, and you can mint a fresh one any time — which turns the old one off everywhere. So a leaked key costs you your words, never your identity or anyone else's.
The one shared thing — the part that remembers between visits — is up at api.slugsthugs.com. A house that talks to it keeps the guestbook for everyone and lets Add save with your key. Nothing on it reads anyone else's house: your page publishes outward, and never pulls another person's words in.
Turn it off and you lose nothing you already have: the guestbook lives in the visitor's own browser instead, and the page works exactly the same. It's your corner either way.