日めくり hi·me·ku·ri
The tear-off calendar that hung on walls in the old days, brought back as a small daily ritual on your desktop. It won't turn its own page — when your day is done, you tear it off by hand, and it flutters away.
儀式gi·shi·ki — the ritual
For over a century, himekuri pads hung in Japanese kitchens and shopfronts: a thick block of days, thinned one morning at a time by hand. This is that object brought back digitally — not reinvented, not improved, just kept.
Himekuri doesn't follow your digital calendar. It won't sync, remind, or turn its own page. You are the one advancing the dates, and, like its real counterpart, a torn page cannot be glued back on. There are no streaks, no graphs. The pad simply waits for your hand, a daily ritual from January to December — from season to season.
物理bu·tsu·ri — the physics
The page is a simulated sheet — inextensible, stiff in the plane, pinned under the staples. Its behavior comes from the mechanics literature, not from an easing curve.
Paper is stiff — pinch it and it buckles into a single smooth cone with a crescent crease beside your fingertip, never the soft gathers of cloth. The page puckers exactly there, under your cursor.
Witten, Stress focusing in elastic sheets · Rev. Mod. Phys.
Starting a tear takes real force. Then stress concentrates at the crack tip and every fiber's failure overloads the next — the last stretch rips itself while the page is still in your hand. Let go early and it rests half-torn.
Crack growth and energy dissipation in paper · Sci. Reports
A wide, light sheet doesn't tumble — it flutters: gliding sideways, banking into each swoop, sinking at a steady terminal speed. The torn page inherits your throw, sails, and slips off the bottom of the screen.
From flutter to tumble · Phys. Rev. Letters
刷りsu·ri — the printings
The same pad, printed in a different era. Switch from the menu bar.
問答mon·dō — questions
Requires macOS 12 or later · Open source on GitHub