Kolo — a manifesto
Care that circulates before — and beside — the systems built to charge you.
Someone said that if you want to see a tech company's soul, you should look at what its algorithm optimizes for. Fair. Here is ours, in plain language. Every line on this page is enforced in code — where it cannot be quietly A/B-tested away.
Kolo is tuned to get you met, not to keep you looking. Everything here ends in a room: a session, a circle, a gathering. We count real meetings, never minutes of attention. Our success is you — off this screen, in good hands.
The feed is a noticeboard, not a slot machine. Newest first. Everything fades in seven days. Seven posts a week, no more. No likes, no counters, no ranking — that code path does not exist, so it cannot be turned on.
Nothing inside is for sale. No ads. No promoted profiles. No cut of any session. Your data is nobody's product. A flat fee keeps the lights on — the same fee for everyone, a stall in the market, never an auction.
Money cannot buy standing. Standing here is made of exactly one material: care received and trust earned. No payment, partnership, or sponsorship can move anyone's place. There are no leaderboards, and there never will be.
No roles. Two verbs. People here are not providers and customers — they are whatever their bubbles say this month: Seeking this, Offering that. Every profile has the same anatomy. The osteopath is also the one being held sometimes. That is the point.
Nothing happens without your yes. Being visible, being contacted, meeting — each one waits for consent, from both sides, every time.
Privacy is a dial, not a confession. Blur your pin. Use your initials. Show your work and not your face. Anonymous with a 4.9★ is a perfectly normal way to exist here — discretion is an ordinary choice, never a red flag.
People hold the doors, not machines. Circles are kept by people the circle itself chooses. Recognition comes from peers who know the craft. No algorithm — and no payment — decides who is good.
Safety is never for sale. The guardian that watches over house calls is free, for everyone, always.
We only ring when a person needs you. A message, a request, a check-in. Never "come back". Never streaks. Your attention is yours; we are not in the business of farming it.
Leaving is leaving. Delete your account and everything goes — every post, every trace, even the records others hold of you. Nothing follows you out.
If a feature ever violates this page, the feature is a bug. Tell us, and we will fix the feature — not the page.
If this is your kind of place: come, and bring your circle.
This page is a promise. The code is the proof.
