I spent over two decades building digital products, studying how people engage with systems, collections, and games. I have a background in economics and cognitive psychology, which means I've spent a lot of time thinking about why certain things capture our attention and our hearts, and why others don't.

I was a card collector. I loved the ritual of it — the anticipation of opening a pack, the satisfaction of finding something rare, the way a great collection tells a story about who you are. But I kept running into the same wall. The games were exhausting. Tokens everywhere. Rules that took longer to argue about than to play. And the themes — dragons, anime characters, fictional universes — never felt like mine. I wanted to collect something that meant something beyond the table.

At the same time, I looked around at the world we actually live in — the Moon landing, the fall of the Berlin Wall, the rise of the internet, the moments that shaped every one of us — and I thought: why is none of this in my hands?

Real historical artifacts cost millions. Museums lock history behind glass. But the events themselves — the breakthroughs, the turning points, the moments that changed everything — those belong to all of us.