PK40.net

My father had a mailbox.

Number 40. At the post office, in a building that smelled like paper and old ink. Every few days he would go, turn a small brass key, and reach inside. Sometimes there was something. Sometimes there wasn't. But he always checked.

He used to tell me that this was the internet before the internet. A network of boxes. Each one an address. Each address, a person waiting to be found.

PK40 is his number. This site is mine.

I have been collecting corners of the web for years — domains, projects, experiments, ideas half-finished and fully loved. They lived in separate places, with no door connecting them. This is the door.

Here you will find links to everything I have built, everything I am building, and slowly, over time, everything I want to remember. A directory. An archive. A digital mailbox of sorts.

There is no algorithm here.

No feed, no notifications, no reason to keep scrolling. Just pages, links, and a little bit of history. The way it used to be. The way I like it.

Come back when you feel like it. Something will have changed. Something will have been added. That is enough.

Welcome to Posta Kutusu 40.