The grey island

Open Elba and, at first, everything is grey. Rooms, notes, files — all sealed, all quiet, like stones on a beach at dusk.

You open one thing. It turns to colour. You close it, and it goes grey again, back to the beach, back to the pile.

This is not decoration. It is the shape of the promise. At any moment, exactly one thing is legible on your screen. Everything else is nothing but sealed data, both to us and to you.

The grey is honest. It says: I could tell you what this is, but only if you asked. It says: you don't have to see all of it, all the time, to know it's still there.

Most software wants to look busy. Elba wants to look asleep.