Have you ever had a word get stuck in your head? Not a song, but a single word or an odd phrase. It hangs around, refusing to leave, like a guest who has overstayed their welcome but is too interesting to kick out. For me, that phrase was "The Tuesday Firm."
In forgotten folklore, Tuesday is a day of cosmic bargains and beautiful, terrible creations. It’s a day named for a one-handed god who made a sacrifice to bind a world-devouring wolf. To do this, the gods commissioned a chain, Gleipnir, to be forged from impossible things: the sound of a cat's footfall, the beard of a woman, the roots of a mountain, the spit of a bird.
They took things that shouldn't exist and wove them into a bond strong enough to hold back chaos. That’s closer to the truth of this place.
The Tuesday Firm isn't a company. It's a binding. It's a collection of thoughts and ideas, a public record of trying to build something from nothing.