How it all works

1. Before coming, they see the dome on the website: the land from the sky, other guests' words, the places they'll find.
2. They book a stay. (Designed, not yet built: see path 5.)
3. On the land, each of the thirteen places has a small card with a code. They scan it.
4. The place's game opens on their phone. They play it with their hands or body, and three past guests' words appear as they go.
5. At the end, they may keep one line. One triangle of their own small dome lights up.
6. On the way out, the mountain's first page shows their dome and every line they kept.
7. If they come back in another season, the places they play again add that season's colour.

It's like a sticky note on any part of any page, except it's spoken, and it gets an answer.

1. The keeper taps Note, top right, and touches the part of the page they mean.
2. They speak (or type). Their words are written out as they talk, and the recording is kept too.
3. The note goes to one table of notes, with exactly where on the page it was left.
4. We read it, reply, and mark where it stands: heard, changing, changed or answered.
5. The keeper sees the reply under My notes in the menu. Nothing is ever deleted.

It's like a seat with a reserved card on it, waiting for its owner.

1. The dashed box shows our placeholder and a few questions to draw out their real answer.
2. The keeper presses Say it in your own words and answers out loud.
3. They read it back. When it sounds like them, they approve it.
4. Their words replace the stand-in on the page from then on.

The dome's idea is that what a guest gives comes back. Ideas are the clearest case.

1. A guest leaves an idea: a bench by the stream, a book for the shelf.
2. The keepers choose which ideas to make.
3. When one is made, it appears on the timeline and on its place's page, with the guest's first name.
4. On a return visit, the guest finds their idea standing there.

Ideas arrive two ways: on the cards at the dome, or in the guest book on the website, which is open only to people who have stayed.

It's like holding a table at a restaurant.

1. The guest picks dates. The full price, taxes included, shows from the first screen.
2. The nights are held for 35 minutes while they pay.
3. Payment goes through Stripe. The stay is confirmed only once Stripe confirms the payment.
4. A deposit is taken now; the rest about 30 days before arrival.
5. The door code and wifi arrive one to two days before the stay.

Today the Stay page is a rehearsal: the steps work, and nothing is charged.

The originals are like negatives in a drawer.

1. Every photo and film has a row in the media catalogue, under the same file name.
2. Before using one, we check its row. Anything marked as showing a person who shouldn't appear is never used.
3. A script makes small web copies of photos. Films are cut short, one cut for wide screens and one for phones.
4. Every film's last frame is checked for how it shows people.

Publishing is like a print run: the page is set, proofed, then printed.

1. A change is made and checked on a copy first.
2. Once approved, it goes to the main version, and the site updates within a minute.
3. The version the keepers are walking stays frozen on its own copy, so nothing shifts under them while they read. New work waits beside it until it's approved.

It's like a camera's shutter opening.

As you scroll, the dot widens into a circle. Inside it, the dome seen from straight above is already waiting, and a slow drone film turns over it. Only the edge of the circle moves, so it stays smooth on a phone. Every page ends on that same view, so the site begins and ends on one picture.

It's like walking through a doorway into the next room.

Each passage opens, descends or closes the same circle way, with a gold ring turning against the picture.

Like the map at a trailhead.

Paths draw out from the dome to the gate and the five places outside. Tap the dome itself and the seven indoor places fan out around it. Each place has its own small drawing that acts out what you do there.

Like the house teaching you its habits by doing them.

At the hearth you blow on the embers; at the table you knock and it knocks back. On the website each game is a short version. On the land it's the whole game, and some use the phone's senses: the microphone hears you blow or knock, the compass knows which way you face, the motion sensor feels the phone lie still, turn face down or walk, and the camera shows the real sky. A game asks for a sense only when it needs it and lets go when it ends. Every game can also be finished by touch or keyboard, and none keeps score.

Like stamps in a passport.

Each game on the land ends with one line to keep, and that place's triangle lights in the colour of the season. The dome and the kept lines live on the guest's own phone and nowhere else. We call it the Remembering.

Like a guest book left open on every page.

All 252 guests' messages are sorted by place, moment and season, so each page draws the right voices. On the home page each message is one star in a sky; tap a star to read it. A card opens beside the sky, never over it.

There are two versions, for the keepers to choose. A is a simple list. B draws each moment as the point travelling through time: it slides to the date, draws the place, then the people, then becomes the heart of the moment (a ring for a proposal, a lantern's flame, the harvest moon). About ten seconds a moment, one screen each, held until you push on.

Three moments of B are drawn as a preview; the other fifteen follow only if the keepers choose it.

Like a door hidden in a bookshelf.

Tap the dot and a dark room opens: the dome's own story, and three small games. Find the dome from high above, one photo closer at a time. One triangle at a time, where every guest, in the order they came, places a triangle of a dome. Be still, where staying still lets the guests' words about the night sky appear.

Like the land itself.

A switch repaints the site for spring, summer, fall or winter and swaps in that season's real photos. Where a season has no real photo yet, the picture is tinted and says Imagined.

Like a stone dropped in still water.

The faster you scroll, the stronger the rings from the point. Each page has its own element (water, fire, air, earth or light), and the rings move as that element would. Sound is off until you tap Hear the mountain: wind, water, fire and crickets, made by the page itself for now. Thirty seconds recorded at each place will replace them.

Like a single light switch by the door.

It opens as a circle from its own button and holds every page, the seasons, behind the point, the mountain and the tools.

Like a front door with one key.

The keepers enter their code once and stay signed in on that device for 30 days. Wrong guesses are counted and slowed. The code lives only on the server, never in the pages.

Notes and own words are paths 2 and 3; prices and bookings are on their dashboard (the next card). A Notes switch in the menu explains every part of every page: what it's for and where its words come from. On the places map, keepers can drag any pin to where the place really is.

Like the front desk's ledger, with the calendar open.

The dashboard shows the next arrival and a calendar where the keepers set each night's price and minimum stay. It holds their usual prices (base, weekend add-on, cleaning fee, usual minimum stay, cancellation policy), the bookings, guests' words to approve, the ideas board, and photos by place and season. The Stay page reads the same prices.

For now it saves on the keepers' own device. Once live, it sits behind a one-time code sent to their email and saves to the tables.

Like a filing cabinet with a drawer each.

There's a drawer for the places, the guests' words, ideas, people, the photo catalogue, and the keepers' notes. The website reads from them; the keepers' notes write to them. Nothing is ever deleted: old rows are marked OLD.