Every personal homepage kept a page for its keeper. The record holds several: profile, profile2, and a profile_2010 written years after the journal stopped, plus a handful of pages under other names that appear to be portraits of the household's members and residents.

What the piece presented

A profile page answered the question every guest book eventually asked: who keeps this place? It listed what the keeper chose to list, no more. The existence of profile_2010, dated after the journal's last surviving month, suggests the house was still being dusted even after the daily rooms went quiet.

What the record kept

The profile pages survive as files, and their navigation titles survive as GIFs, so the room was labeled on every wall. What the pages contained at each stage is only partly captured; the 2010 version exists as an address, a promise of one more visit by the keeper.

What the profile was for

On a site where everything else was about the work, the profile was the one page about the worker. It kept the scale human: whatever the aphorism editions or the life chronicle attempted, the profile reminded the visitor that the house had exactly one keeper.

One keeper, stated once

The profile's restraint is the point. Where a modern profile asks for everything and shows it always, this page existed to answer one question once: who keeps the house. The several versions, profile, profile2, profile_2010, read like the same card re-signed over the years, the keeper updating the answer without enlarging it.

That a profile survived past the journal is telling: when the rooms went quiet, the page that remained was the one that said someone had been here.

The keeper's restraint

What is striking about a profile kept this way is what it refused. No photograph requirement, no biography template, no fields: the keeper wrote the card the keeper wanted. The extra pages in the cluster, kazuo, cyapy, Nasse, read as the household's other residents, people or animals named only by their file.

The profile was the one piece in the house allowed to be incomplete, because a person on a page was always a summary anyway.

A page that outlived the rooms

The profile_2010 file is the piece's strangest exhibit: a capture dated years after the journal's last month, proof that the keeper returned to the house at least once after the daily rooms went quiet. Whatever it said, its existence says the door was checked, the card re-signed. Among all the pages of a personal site, the profile is the one whose presence matters more than its content: it is the signature on the wall.

Signed, not filled in

A profile written by hand is a signature, not a form. The several versions across the years show the keeper re-answering the same small question, never expanding it into a biography. In a house where every other page documented something, the profile documented the documenter, once, briefly, on the keeper's own terms.

That the file dates reach 2010 makes the profile the last known signature on the wall.

What is not shown

Anything the keeper chose not to write, which was most things. The profile pages survive as evidence that a person stood behind the house; they are not, and were never meant to be, the person.