Discover the journey behind Kaminari. Thousands of hours, countless iterations, and every decision made for those who come after.
Foundation of something bigger.
There's a reason some things take longer to build. Not because they're more complex, but because they're meant to carry more weight. Connect wasn't designed to ship and iterate. It was designed to be a foundation. The first floor of a building whose blueprints extend far beyond what's visible today. Every architectural decision, every line of code was written with the understanding that something greater will stand on top of it.
A foundation without purpose is just concrete. Here, that purpose is identity. Not accounts scattered across services, but a single presence that persists. When new floors rise on this foundation, they don't ask for new tenants. They recognize who already lives in the building. Friendships, communities, conversations. All of it anchored to one point that never moves, even as everything around it expands.
This is just the beginning. The first floor of many. The first service of several. But the principles that shaped this foundation will shape everything that follows. They were decided before the first line of code and they won't change after the last.
Three versions never saw the light of day. Each one taught something. Each one led here.
Every craft begins with a first attempt that barely holds together. Mine was no different. Held together by the bliss of not knowing what could go wrong. But ignorance has a purpose. It lets you start before doubt has time to arrive. Looking back, I'm grateful for not knowing what I didn't know. That naivety is what let me begin.
The first real lesson: sustainability means owning what you depend on. When companies changed their policies, when services shut their doors, I learned what it means to build on borrowed ground. So I started rebuilding. Voice. Video. Shared experiences. Still rough, still full of bugs. But now the foundation couldn't disappear because someone else made a business decision.
After the second version I felt ready for something else. The foundation held, my friends were already inside it, and I wanted to explore a new direction. A music player caught my attention. But midway through I noticed I was reconstructing the same identity layer from nothing, and the idea of repeating that for every project ahead felt like wasted effort. So I pulled in what already existed. Building the player became an opportunity to try a different visual tone. Quieter palettes, cleaner shapes, something that communicated confidence without raising its voice. And at some point the realization landed: why chase a new project when I could bring this sensibility back to what we live in every day? The music player remained a sketch. But the lesson it carried found its home.
There's a distance between where this started and where it stands now that only patience could bridge. Every failure along the way left behind something worth keeping, and what exists today carries those lessons in its architecture: systems designed with the clarity that only hindsight provides, infrastructure scaled for weight not yet placed upon it, and a first floor that stands as proof the vision was worth pursuing.
"Somethingstakelongertobuildbecausethey'remeanttocarrymoreweight."

Yıldıray Koçak
Founder