Moko·Avi

The person you’re becoming deserves a witness.

Somewhere in your ordinary days, you are quietly turning into someone. Moko-Avi is a journal that keeps the proof. More private than a diary, never here to replace a page of your life, only to add to it. Speak the day, in any of ten languages. It remembers everything, returns it the moment you reach for it, answers what you ask of your own days, and keeps watch over what you said you’d become. Then it lets you go. No streaks, no notifications, no feed.

Join the public beta

iOS · 10 languages · encrypted · never sold, never trained on

Touch the orb, or scroll to look closer
Why it’s called that

Named for two small guides.

Moko was a dolphin off the coast of New Zealand who found a mother whale and her calf stranded between sandbars, and led them back to open water. A wild thing that helped, for no reason anyone could name, and then swam on. Avi is a kid who brought the founder to safety in a time of real need.

A journal named for the two of them carries their whole job description: not to be the ocean, and not to be your life. Only to see you safely back to it.

A small light, between us.

Everything in the light

All of it, named.

That is the ambition. Here is the inventory: no hidden tiers, no roadmap promises, everything that lives in the app today. The story of how it all fits together begins just below.

Voice journalingSpeak or type, in ten languages, detected on their own.
Three registersMoment · question · weaving. One composer, one mouth.
Stars, three horizonsName an intention for the week, the month, and the year.
The Becoming pathOrigin, you-are-here, and the star, with recognized days lit gold.
ClosureWhen a star looks met, it asks. Met, still reaching, or make it truer.
Who you’ve becomeMet stars gather behind you: named, dated, carried.
Ask your recordQuestion a year of your own days in plain language.
LettersOnce in a while, when your days have earned one, it writes back.
The Sunday journalEvery week composed into one typeset, printable page.
The quarterly memoirNinety days measured against your own words, then and now.
Chapters & booksWeave any span of days into a chapter or a whole book.
Photo booksYour photographs and days, typeset into pages you can print.
Captions that seePhotographs read for meaning, in the register of your day.
Your SkyTwo of your own photos worn as the app: day and night, on-device only.
Sun & stars skinsA day face and a night face, on the clock or on your say-so.
The trusted circleHand one moment to a few people, today only. No feed.
Face ID lockThe most private thing you own, locked the moment you look away.
Encrypted, unsoldNever sold, never trained on, never advertised against.
The full circle

Most journals are half a loop. This one closes.

A guide is only a guide if it brings you all the way back. Everywhere else, a journal is where words go to be forgotten. Here, a day travels the whole circle of a life: it is registered, it returns when you want it, it answers the questions that matter, and it keeps count of what you’re manifesting, until the day it’s real.

01

You speak it

A sentence or an hour, in your own language. The day is registered exactly as you lived it: your words, your voice, your photographs.

02

It returns it

The thread comes back the moment you reach for it. Nothing you gave it is ever more than a question away.

03

You ask it

Real questions of your own record. When did I last feel like this? What was I promising myself in March? It answers from your life, not the internet.

04

It keeps your vow

Name who you’re becoming and it tracks the manifestation for you, lighting every day that moved you closer, until the day it asks: does this feel done?

Where it begins · witness, don’t harvest

It stays for the moment that mattered.

Every circle starts the same way. There is a day inside most days that deserves to be told, and nowhere to say it that doesn’t want something back. Here, you speak it once, fully, and something listens all the way through. It answers in a few true words. Then it closes the light and returns you to your evening.

What happens todayWhat we corrected
Chat apps answer in essays and always ask a follow-up, so the conversation never ends.→One answer, in few words. The day was the point, not the session.
Journal apps reward you for showing up: streaks, badges, gentle guilt.→It rewards you for nothing. Miss a month and nothing breaks, because nothing was counting.
What it carries · track the named, not the countable

It tracks your manifestations for you.

A witness that only remembers is an archive. This one also keeps a promise. There is something you keep telling yourself in the shower, on the drive home. Say it once, in a sentence: a star for the week, the month, the year. The person you are trying to become, in your own words. From then on it listens for that star inside your ordinary days, so you don’t have to.

What happens todayWhat we corrected
Habit trackers count only what is countable: steps, checkboxes, days in a row.→You name the destination in a sentence. It watches the direction, not the checkbox.
Vision boards and resolutions are made once and never checked against a real life.→Every day that moved you closer lights on the path: your words, on the date it happened.
The home screen, holding a golden line about what you are reaching toward.
Where it leads · the orb proposes, you dispose

When it’s finally real, it doesn’t celebrate. It asks.

And a promise kept needs a road you can see. The path shows where you started, where you stand, and the star you named, with every recognized day lit gold between them. When a star looks met, there is no confetti, because nothing should decide for you when your life has changed. The light raises its hand and asks: does this feel done? Met, still reaching, or make it truer. Met stars gather behind you, a record of who you’ve become, kept in your own words.

The pathDays that moved you light gold between you and the star.
The thresholdNothing closes without you. You cross it yourself.
What it gives back · a memory that answers

Ask your own life a real question.

A year in, the record starts paying you back. Everything you’ve ever told it becomes something you can question in plain language. When did I last feel this way? What was I afraid of in spring? What did I say the night before it changed? It answers from the one source that actually knows you: your own words.

What happens todayWhat we corrected
Notes apps give you keyword search over a thousand entries. You can never find the feeling.→Ask the way you’d ask a friend who was there. It finds the day by its meaning.
Assistants answer every question from the internet: a stranger’s answer to your life.→This one answers only from your record. If you never said it, it never claims it.
What it becomes · days deserve a spine

It binds your moments when you ask.

And when a season deserves more than scattered days, ask it to weave. A chapter from a hard month. A book from a whole spring. Your photographs typeset into printable pages. Every Sunday the week arrives composed into a single quiet page, and every quarter a memoir measures ninety days against the words you named, then and now. Once in a while, when your days have earned one, a letter comes back to you.

What happens todayWhat we corrected
Everywhere else, entries pile into an infinite scroll that no one ever rereads.→Here, days become chapters, chapters become books, and a week becomes one page worth keeping.
Sharing means a feed, a follower count, and a performance of your life.→The trusted circle: hand one moment to a few people who matter, today only. No feed, no likes, no thread.
How it listens · the inner voice has a mother tongue

Language is no longer a barrier.

All of it in the language you think in, because the voice inside is not always the voice you’re made to type in. English, Mandarin, Hindi, Spanish, Arabic, French, Bengali, Portuguese, Russian, Urdu. Drift between them mid-sentence. There is no setting to find and no flag to pick.

What happens todayWhat we corrected
Most apps translate you into English, then answer in one flat, borrowed voice.→It answers in your language’s own register and rhythm: the way something true is said there.
The same kind of moment, answered in Spanish, Hindi, French and English, each in its own register.
How it sees · the meaning, not the objects

Even the days that arrive as pictures.

Some days you don’t have words for, so you take a photograph without knowing why. Give it that picture and it comes back with the reason. The two photographs that matter most can even become the app itself, worn as its sky, one for day and one for night, never leaving your phone.

What happens todayWhat we corrected
Photo apps label the frame: trees, sunlight, path, one person.→This one witnesses it: the afternoon the forest opened, and you stood in the middle of the light.
A photograph read back as a moment, not a list of objects.
No streaks. No feed. No notifications.
Underneath all of it · the same refusal

It refuses to become like the others.

Run every one of these back through the story of Moko: help, then swim on. Nearly everything built near a person’s inner life is built to keep them there. Notifications asking for your evening. Streaks you’re afraid to lose. A model of you sold to whoever’s buying. This is a journal with restraint: it answers once, closes the light, and trusts you to leave. Not a companion, not a chat, not a replacement for anyone. A journal, and nothing more.

The long argument, in full: the founder’s essay on why software near an inner life should hold its tongue

Where your words live

The most private thing you own, kept that way.

A journal is only worth keeping if it is genuinely yours. Moko-Avi is built so your days stay between you and the light, with nothing borrowed, nothing sold, and nothing watching.

Encrypted, always

Your entries are encrypted in transit and at rest. They are yours, not ours, and we treat them that way.

Never sold, never trained on

Your words are not sold, shared, or used to train models. There is no advertising business behind this.

No profile to mine

We ask for the minimum required to run the app. Face ID locks it. Nothing is assembled about you for anyone else.

The full policy, in plain words: mokoavi.com/privacy

What it costs

One quiet subscription. Nothing hidden.

No free tier built to hook you, no ads, no data sold. You pay for a calm place to think, and that is the entire arrangement.

Best value
Yearly
$69.99 / year
about $5.83 a month
  • Daily voice journaling in 10 languages
  • The stars you name, and the path to them
  • Your Sunday journal and quarterly memoir
  • Ask anything of a full year of your own days
Monthly
$9.99 / month
cancel anytime
  • Daily voice journaling in 10 languages
  • The stars you name, and the path to them
  • Your Sunday journal, month to month
  • The memoir arrives once you reach it

There is no free tier, on purpose. A product that profits from your attention cannot honestly ask you to leave.

It’s open

A year from now, you’ll want the proof.

Moko-Avi is in public beta on iOS in the United States and Canada, for ages 18 and up. It takes a minute to install, one sentence to begin, and a year to become something no one can sell you: the record of who you were becoming, in your own words.

Join the public beta

TestFlight · iOS · 18+

A small light, between us.