Photos and objects with their story
You upload a photo, a scan of a letter, a picture of an object that matters to you, and add the text that explains it. Without the story, a photo is a file. With the story, it's a memory.
The problem
You have 30,000 photos on your phone. Some of them your kids will see. Most they'll delete because they won't know what they mean. A photo without context is a file — "who is this woman? what year was this? why did we keep it?". Photo apps (Apple, Google) store; they don't make meaning.
What Anecdotario does
You upload an image and the app asks just enough — not as a form, as a mini-interview:
- "Who's in it?" (suggests from your people graph, you confirm)
- "When was it?" (suggests from EXIF, you correct if wrong)
- "Where was it?" (suggests from geo-EXIF, optional)
- "What do you remember about that moment?" (the important question, open-ended)
What you write becomes an anecdote tied to the photo, in the corresponding chapter.
Also for objects
Not just photos — also scans, photos of objects. The photo of your grandmother's ring. The letter your dad wrote you when you were 12. The tickets from a 2003 concert. Each object has its anecdote:
- "This ring was my grandmother María's, she said my grandfather gave it to her on their third date..."
- "I kept this letter because it was the first time my dad wrote something emotional..."
Why it matters
Digital photography made us believe that saving is the same as remembering. It isn't. Remembering requires meaning — a story, a name, a why. Anecdotario is where important photos become important memories, not just files.
Sometimes you don't want an AI to interview you — you want to write whatever you feel like. Free mode is exactly that: a blank page, no questions, no forced structure.
Your life isn't a flat list of anecdotes — it's twelve chapters. Childhood, adolescence, first love, adult life, losses, kids. You have a map, not a feed.