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On this minute, every year, forever.

Find your minute ↓

525,600 minutes in a year.
Each one can belong to somebody.

Choose a minute: the one you were born, the one you got married, the minute someone you loved was last here, or any other meaningful moment. Write up to 140 characters. It appears on the clock above at that exact minute, and it comes back every year for as long as this page exists.

Your minute (all times UTC)

Your message
0 / 140 Plain text only — no links, no images. Words don't rot.

Sharing

Your message appears on the public clock and in the public ledger either way; that's what you're buying, and it can't be switched off.

Have a code?

A gift code claims this minute without payment. We need an email so we can tell you it's live, and reach you if anything ever changes about it — a paid claim gets this from the card payment instead.

One payment of $5. No subscription, no token, and no resale (your minute is yours and cannot be transferred). Published immediately and permanently, so it's not refundable for change of mind; if we can't publish your message you get every cent back. Refund policy · Terms

Why this exists

People have always tied words to things. Strips of paper knotted to bamboo at Tanabata, wooden plaques left hanging at a shrine, a name on a park bench facing the view someone loved, a padlock on a bridge. Write it down, fix it to something that will still be there, come back to it later.

But a date is the steadiest thing to fix it to. Bridges get cleared and benches rot, but the 14th of March returns every year without fail, whether anyone is watching or not. Take one of its minutes, write on it, and it comes back to you for as long as this page stands.

None of this is advertising. Nearly everything ever sold by the slot on the internet has been a logo and a link... something that would rather you were somewhere else. There is nothing to click here, and nothing is being sold to you except the minute itself.

That's also why nothing here can decay. Pages built out of pointers to other people's servers don't age so much as hollow out, as one by one those servers stop being paid for. Words don't point anywhere. There is nothing here to break.

Every message is mirrored to a public repository, updated automatically. It's not a promise that we'll be here forever (we'll try!), but a guarantee that it won't matter if we aren't. If this site disappears two, four, ten years from now, the whole archive is already out, and anyone can host it again.

The ledger

— minutes claimed of 525,600. See every one →

The day that doesn't exist

The year here is 365 days. February 29th has no minutes and never will — that day is 1,440 minutes that can never belong to anyone. Once every four years, this clock shows nothing at all.