Opening a Branch
In the version control system Git, a branch represents a divergence. It serves as a safe path for experimenting with new ideas without compromising the main codebase. In the business world, a branch signifies expansion by creating a new space to reach those who cannot visit the main office. Today, I am doing both as I open a new branch on the Korean writing platform Brunch.
For a long time, I preferred the quiet solitude of a self-hosted server. As a developer, I have an instinctive compulsion for sovereignty over my digital environment. I want to own the database and dictate every line of CSS. I demand the absolute freedom to break things whenever I choose. My personal site ta.fo is the direct result of that insistence. It serves as my private workspace where the environment is simple, flexible, and configured exactly how I like.
Brunch is the exact opposite. From an engineering perspective, it is a walled garden that restricts user entropy to near zero. You cannot use Markdown or tweak the line height. You cannot inject custom scripts. It forces every writer to conform to a rigid design system. In technical terms, it declares every variable of the user experience as a constant.
Surprisingly, I found those constraints quite liberating. By enforcing a unified UX, the platform allows a writer to focus entirely on the words themselves. It delivers a consistent result for readers. It feels less like a fragmented personal blog and more like a published ebook. It is not a workshop, but a gallery.
Therefore, I am adopting a Roastery and Cafe strategy for my work.
The site ta.fo is the Roastery. This is where the visceral noise of production happens. It is the backend where I experiment with code and write in English. I process raw ideas in their initial states there. The air smells of roasted beans and the space is filled with the sound of machinery. It is a place for the curious who want to see the actual production line.
Brunch is the Cafe representing this new branch. I will take the beans roasted in my workshop and grind them with care to brew them into refined Korean essays. The environment there is the frontend. It is meticulously curated with perfect lighting and quiet music. I will serve finished work there to people who simply want to savor the taste.
The core of my content remains unchanged. I will continue to write about the balance between cold reason and lived warmth. I will navigate between development and money, music and games, philosophy and parenting, alongside the small notes of daily life. What changes is simply the method of delivery.
Here, I maintain an archive. There, I serve a finished essay.
To my English readers, the roastery remains right here. To my Korean readers, the cafe is now open on Brunch.