A timeline, kept by hand, of twenty-three years and counting.
This is where the story begins. Replace this text with the actual one — the place, the night, the friend who introduced you, the first thing she said, the first thing you noticed.
The first paragraph carries a drop cap, so make the opening sentence count. Keep it specific. Specific is what makes an archive worth reading later.
Twenty-three years on, it still feels like a recent decision.
Marcandmiha.com began as a wedding website in 2005. It told guests where to go and what to wear, then sat quietly online for two decades while the actual marriage did the work.
This page replaces that one. The url stays.
Replace this paragraph with the day itself — the venue, the song, the toast that landed, the toast that didn't, the thing nobody photographed but everyone remembers.
This domain was originally registered for this day.
Replace this with the Medby entry. The day, the name, the moment Marc and Miha became a family of three.
Worth keeping short and worth keeping honest — the goal isn't a complete account, it's a fragment that captures the feeling. The archive becomes meaningful through accumulation, not through any one entry trying to do too much.
The second one. Replace this text with the actual story. A decade between the two boys is the kind of detail that becomes interesting in retrospect — it lets each childhood breathe.
This is the year the older one goes. Replace with the actual entry — the drive up, the dorm, the walk back to the car, what Miha said in the hotel that night.
This is also the year the family becomes a different shape. Worth marking.
The first goodbye that isn't temporary.