Full Transcript

Note: This transcript was translated from a raw German voice memo recording. It has been cleaned up for readability — filler words removed, fragments merged into sentences — but the tone and flow of the original conversation have been preserved as much as possible.

1 — Biography & origin

Kevin: I've been doing this for a while now — just letting a voice memo run during conversations, with no real intention behind it. Sometimes it turns into a kind of open, free journal. Afterwards I can go back through it and reflect. If that's okay with you?

Karla: Doesn't bother me at all.

Kevin: Cool. So what struck me again today, driving here, is this whole storytelling angle. Nobody really does that — telling a personal story through a project like this. Impact startups have been around for a while, but wrapping a personal narrative around one? That only really clicked for me when you mentioned it earlier. And last night, that connection. I've been wanting to pull you into this project for a while, because you've heard snippets about haelp here and there, but never the full picture. The name itself doesn't really matter. I'm trying to figure out how we do this — what I should share with you first.

Karla: I haven't prepared any systematic questions, but what I'd genuinely like to know is: what was the starting point? Why did you begin this at all?

Kevin: Let me open up the founder's vision a little. I actually wrote some of this down once. It started — well, my whole life has had this thread running through it. You could trace it back to childhood. Through my stepfather, I ended up in the German Red Cross ecosystem pretty early on. So I had this connection to volunteering, to helping, to committing myself in some way. Why I did it back then? No idea. But it was there. I did it in my hometown, through school, back and forth.

Kevin: My parents split up when I was around eight. My mother remarried, and my stepfather was a businessman by trade — came from an entrepreneurial family, ran an office supply and stationery shop. I'd help out there sometimes. He brought a very commercial upbringing into our home. Very Swabian — this hustle culture, work ethic, you define yourself by how hard you work. My mom carried that too. I think from her I absorbed this idea of "you're not enough" and "your worth is measured by your output."

Kevin: So those were the formative years. My mother was a trained industrial clerk, everything was oriented toward commerce. I never really asked myself what I actually wanted to do. It was more about not doing anything wrong. That was always my driving motive — don't mess up. And I figured: with a business degree, you can't really go wrong. My parents had done something similar. My father was a craftsman but always said "don't go into trades, you'll work yourself to death." So business it was.

Kevin: I started working early — got my first job at fifteen at a startup in Tuttlingen. My mom connected me. My first task was stuffing envelopes, serial letters. But the company was cool, and the guy who ran it became a bit of a mentor. He'd also studied business. I first applied for a dual study program at Aesculap — a medical technology company in Tuttlingen — but they rejected me. Then my boss from the student job suggested the University of Applied Sciences in Pforzheim, said it would give me more of a real student life.

Kevin: But first I tried the top-ranked school — ESB Reutlingen. Got in, went there, ended up in Madrid through their program. It was pure textbook hustle — just memorizing and regurgitating. That was the first time the straight path didn't hold up. I dropped out, transferred to Pforzheim, finished there. And then the question hit: what now?

Kevin: Near the end of my degree, I actually graduated top of my class, and the dean offered me the chance to give a speech. It was called "The Best or Nothing" — and it was the first time I really reflected on this drive to always be the best. And I questioned it: what does "the best" even mean?

Karla: That brings me right back to something you said at the beginning — "I didn't want to do anything wrong." What would have happened if you did something wrong? What was the consequence you feared?

Kevin: I don't fully know. Various hypotheses — themes like "you're not enough," the social chameleon thing, the people-pleaser gene. Don't do anything wrong, don't displease anyone.

Karla: And that's why you had to be the best. And then the question: what does that even mean? Because it has so much to do with status and not necessarily with substance.

Kevin: That was the first contact. The first time I actually paused. In school, I was never the reflective one. I was like a blank lab coat — nothing polarizing about me, nothing wrong, but you could also say: nothing particularly right either. Very neutral.

Karla: Nobody could really see what was behind it, probably.

Kevin: Right. And that's when I started questioning things a little more philosophically. But then: what do I do after university? I went to Hamburg first. But throughout my studies, I always had ideas. Lots of them. I tried to bring them to life — starting things, creating brands and concepts. Some of it was junk, but it was my form of expression. Like art, really.

2 — The early ideas

Kevin: What's interesting is that during university I had a concept I called "Magnet" — again, an app for social connections around leisure. Another idea was "The Living Room" — a space, like a bar but also like the Room of Requirement from Harry Potter. Just a place you could go where everything was possible. You could start events, connect with people. So many of my ideas revolved around social connection.

Kevin: But I could never get any of them off the ground. None of the concepts gained traction, and I always had the parallel struggle of needing to make money. So I kept going into jobs. And then this pattern emerged — half a year to a year in a job, then the feeling of: something's wrong with me. I got bored quickly. People always thought I was great at what I did, but I never got anything out of it.

Kevin: The cycle repeated: intense work on haelp, then crash, then time off and travel, then back to a job to refill the bank account — usually using skills I'd taught myself through haelp — then boredom at the job, frustration, and back to the idea. It's actually falling like scales from my eyes right now, talking about it. The pattern has to be broken, one way or another.

Kevin: What I do know: not working on it doesn't work, because it keeps coming back. And working on it hasn't worked either, because it kept burning me out. I think I keep getting this lesson until I figure it out. And looking back, I could already have had something out there for ten years — even just a dumb HTML landing page. I've had the domain for a decade.

Karla: You can only do things when you're ready. Before that, you just can't. That's it.

3 — Cambodia & the original idea

Kevin: After finishing our studies, my girlfriend and I decided to see some of the world. We packed up and traveled to Southeast Asia. And there, by pure chance, we met a monk — from a Cambodian Buddhist Association that dedicated themselves to social welfare. They built schools and clean water wells in rural Cambodia.

Kevin: The monk was just sitting there, and because I'm a pretty outgoing, bubbly person, we started talking. He was open to interaction, spoke English. He was doing fundraising, and something clicked in me for the first time — this realization that the world isn't all rosy. He told us a water well cost about 300 dollars. I didn't have that kind of money, but it sat with me.

Kevin: The monk gave us a blessing with a red bracelet — this Kabbalah-style red string. It was a beautiful experience. And from that, the first concept of haelp was born: what if we made bracelets with a tracking code? You buy the bracelet for thirty euros, and a percentage goes to funding a clean water well. You can track exactly which well, where it is, even visit it. Social impact tracking — and that's what got me into programming.

Karla: So it started with the idea of bringing people together and being helpful.

Kevin: Yes. And the early connection was: I studied business, I understood how the system works, and I saw there was enormous power in it. The first haelp idea was actually inspired by brands like Share — you know, the consumer goods company that puts a social alternative next to every product on the shelf. Buy your pasta, your flour, and a portion goes to social impact. Or TOMS shoes with their one-for-one model. The idea was to give consumers a social choice at the point of sale, using economic power to redirect resources.

4 — Capitalism, democracy, failure

Karla: There's a thought I had for years while buying TOMS shoes. I found it good. But at the same time, there was always this other thought: that within capitalism, this is the only way to redirect money. And it's not really the right way. It's the same as when billionaires donate to causes they personally deem worthy. It benefits people, sure. But those billionaires weren't elected. Nobody voted on what they fund. It's fundamentally undemocratic — what gets supported and what doesn't.

Karla: With small amounts — a pair of shoes, a social product — there's still a somewhat democratic aspect because people vote with their wallets. But at scale, with billionaires, it becomes extremely undemocratic. It reveals a basic structure within capitalism: more money equals more power, more freedom, more decision-making. If you don't have it, you have less of all those things.

Karla: Democracy is reflected in capitalism at least as strongly as — or rather, as poorly as — in any legal or state system. And at some point, I hit resignation. I thought: I can't really do it right. Even if I do it right within the given framework, I can't truly do it right. I can't change the foundation.

Kevin: Right. My first idea was to democratize it a little — at least redirect donations at a small scale. Everyone consumes, everyone buys everyday things. The money sits in the Western world, so why not redistribute some of it? But then I realized: it's still just a gamified version of donating. And my twenties were very much driven by "I want to make everything right."

Karla: Spoiler: it didn't work.

Kevin: I only learned that at thirty. What everything I studied in business school taught me was essentially useless on the street. I went to a University of Applied Sciences precisely because I wanted practical training — but we spent a semester writing a business plan for a fictional company. And then perfectionism on top of it — my moral standards meant the products had to be sustainable and high-quality, which raised the price, which made them less inclusive. The requirements list kept growing.

Kevin: Eventually, the whole thing crumbled. I was working on it with my girlfriend at the time. It almost ended our relationship because I was so obsessed. She wasn't assertive enough to say it wasn't really her mission. We burned ourselves out together. I wasn't fully in burnout, but I was burned — me, my relationship, everything. That was the first cycle that went back to zero.

Karla: Hustle culture learned, crashed into the wall. Wanting to do everything perfectly, ending up doing nothing because it's impossible. Starting the revolution without starting a revolution, without hurting anyone — which also doesn't work.

5 — Cycles & digital iteration

Kevin: Then someone from university reached out to me — almost like a message from the universe. He'd become a millionaire through Bitcoin and was looking for projects to fund. I have to give him credit for that: he could have bought a yacht, but instead he said he wanted to multiply his impact.

Kevin: So I pulled haelp out of the drawer again. His promise was that I'd never have to work again — he'd help me invest, cover my living costs. My eyes went wide. Spoiler alert: he almost went broke, and I nearly went with him into something like personal insolvency. But for about a year and a half, I could dedicate myself to the digital product.

Kevin: I taught myself to code — AI wasn't ready back then to help with that — and started building. And I completely over-engineered it. Spent over a year without shipping anything, because I kept thinking it needed to be bigger, better. Then through the investor I learned about crypto and thought: universal basic income! We could create our own currency! A dual currency system! I went deep into research and development.

Kevin: I tried to build it and pitch it to people. Imagine trying to explain all of that simply. I found open ears in Berlin, got into cool communities, met amazing people. But sadly, everyone — including me — was part of groups and movements that never really got traction on the street. It always came back to: accessibility and simplicity.

Karla: Breaking it down to the one core thing that people can immediately identify with.

6 — Volunteering & mutual aid

Kevin: The next iteration came when I thought about volunteering — something I'd been part of since I was eight or nine, pouring Coke for blood donors at the Red Cross. Volunteering is actually really hard to get into. And what if we made it easier for people to just use their skills and contribute, without having to join an organization? Because commitment was always a problem — when I moved to Pforzheim for university, I couldn't volunteer at my club in Tuttlingen anymore.

Kevin: So I combined the volunteering problem with impact tracking — the concept I'd already developed with the bracelets. The vision was: open the app, see dots across Berlin showing needs. A kindergarten fence is broken, they need someone who can weld. Your skills match, you go help, and that engagement gets logged in your Impact Wallet. Not just where your money goes, but where your time and energy go.

Kevin: I pitched this to the investor, and he was immediately on board — he was a systems thinker himself. He said: tell me what you need for living expenses, I'll cover you. But then the crypto market crashed, and that chapter ended. Still, the core idea survived: making invisible labor visible. Care work, volunteering — these things don't show up in GDP, they're not honored with money or recognition.

Kevin: I imagined it like a Facebook for your impact — an Impact Book for your life. When you doubt yourself, you could look at your story, your timeline of contributions. When you're on your deathbed, nobody says "I wish my bank account had been bigger." They say "I wish I'd spent more time living."

7 — Karla's core diagnosis

Karla: What I'm hearing beneath all of this isn't really about what people actually do. It's about giving them the ability to tell themselves a story in which their life has meaning. That's what so many people are missing — the feeling that their life matters, that they make a difference.

Karla: Many people have pushed that aside in favor of consumption, success, the usual external markers that give life meaning. But I think there are very many people who have a fundamental need to fill their story with significance. Our brains are structured to create a plot from our experiences — one that makes sense. Without that, you can't build an identity.

Karla: If you give people a chance to build an identity where they can feel like a good person — and the old way is just "donate something" or "buy something" — but we're always in this cycle of diminishing returns. You reach a goal, you're briefly excited, and a week later it's completely gone and you doubt yourself just as much as before. You have to aim higher to get that kick again.

Karla: But if you give people a tool where they can say: my story is being written, this tool writes my story continuously, I can look at any time and see who I am — I've built my identity through my actions, and it's documented — that could be a revelation for people who don't do this kind of reflection naturally. To look in and see: that is my meaning. That is me.

Kevin: What you're mirroring back to me right now, I've only truly recognized in the last few weeks — maybe even days. I always wanted to create a kind of storybook where everything you do in daily life gets captured. The invisible labor, the unseen service to society.

8 — The turning point: Tenerife

Kevin: And then came the beach. I was in Tenerife, lying on the beach, surrounded by people — families, couples, solo travelers, groups of friends. Dozens of humans within arm's reach. And I felt profoundly, structurally alone. Not lonely in the self-pity sense. Lonely in the systemic sense.

Kevin: I looked around and thought: we all have so much in common. We're all here, we're all human. But we don't see each other, even though we're literally sitting side by side. And I realized there is no way to bridge that gap. There is no socially acceptable protocol — no gesture, no signal, no invitation for telling a stranger: I'm open to connecting. The default in public space is: leave me alone, unless you have a reason.

Kevin: And so we sit, surrounded by potential connections, and feel nothing. That was the moment haelp found its shape. All those years of over-engineering, all those attempts to fix everything at once — they were pointing here. The most basic, most fundamental thing: two humans seeing each other.

Kevin: Everything else I'd been trying to build — the economy, the mutual aid, the collaboration tools — those are real, and they will come. But they can't come first. First, people need to see each other. First: acknowledgement.

Karla: What I've been wondering is: what lies underneath all of that? What's the foundation?

Kevin: Exactly. The foundation is: we're all human, and that's actually enough.

9 — What haelp believes

Kevin: So here's what haelp believes, in its current iteration — the smallest common denominator.

Kevin: One: proximity does not equal connection. Physical closeness creates zero social closeness by default. This isn't a personal failing — it's a structural one. The beach paradox is universal. Surrounded by humans, feeling alone. This is the problem haelp is now trying to solve.

Kevin: Two: the invitation is missing. There is no protocol for signaling openness to a stranger. Every existing platform requires a reason — a shared interest, romantic intention, a professional agenda. haelp creates the invitation that doesn't exist in the physical world. The connection toggle is the entire innovation.

Kevin: Three: we default to distrust. The assumed relationship between strangers is negative. We assume someone who approaches us wants something from us. Until this default is flipped — even just between two people at a time — nothing bigger can be built. No currency, no mutual aid, no better world can exist without first acknowledging each other's humanity.

Kevin: Four: the body comes before the mind. Connection must be felt before it is understood. Eye contact triggers oxytocin. Physical co-presence creates a felt bond that a digital "accept" button never will. The core experience of haelp cannot be a click. It must involve standing in front of another human being, looking them in the eye, and speaking words out loud.

Kevin: Five: this is an experiment. I don't have all the answers. haelp is a hypothesis about human nature — that if you give people the invitation and the structure, they will choose connection over isolation. I believe that, but I also know we have to prove it.

10 — The experience

Kevin: So here's what actually happens. This is the product: from a stranger to a connection.

Kevin: You toggle "open." You're at a park, a cafe, a beach, an airport. You open the app and toggle: I'm open. That's it. You've just done something no technology has ever enabled before. You've signaled to the physical space around you that you're available for human connection. No agenda, no profile to judge. Just: I'm here and I'm open.

Kevin: Then someone matches. The system detects another open user within a certain radius and auto-matches you. No browsing, no selecting. You don't know their name, what they look like, their nationality, their job, their age. You know exactly one thing: another human being nearby is also open. This anonymity isn't a limitation — it's the design. The moment you let people browse and select, you introduce filtering and bias that haelp exists to transcend. You don't get to choose who you acknowledge. You acknowledge who shows up. That's the point.

Kevin: Your phone becomes a compass. Directional cues, distance indicators, a haptic heartbeat that pulses faster as you get closer. Both screens display the same unique visual code — a shared signal so you can identify each other in a crowd. You're looking for a person who is also looking. The walk toward each other is the ritual beginning. The anticipation, the scanning, the moment you spot someone else scanning — this is already connection, before a word is spoken.

Kevin: Then comes the acknowledgement. You're standing in front of a stranger. Both of you chose this. The app guides you through something very short. You look at each other. You take a breath. And when you're ready, you say: "I see you. I'm human. You're human. And I mean you no harm."

Kevin: Maybe you shake hands. Maybe you smile. Maybe one of you tears up, because no stranger has ever said that to them. The experience is guided but not scripted. The app creates the container, not the content.

Kevin: Then comes the reveal. The anonymized silhouette on your screen flips — like turning a card. The stranger becomes a person. Their photo appears, their name, for the first time. You met a human before you met an identity. You acknowledged someone without knowing anything about them. And now that you do know, the connection already exists. The bias couldn't happen because there was nothing to be biased against.

Kevin: Everything after that is optional — talk, share stories, play volleyball, or simply nod, smile, and walk away. The connection exists regardless. It's recorded in both your constellations — a growing map of human connections you've made across the world.

11 — The peace mission

Kevin: I once said that haelp has the potential to win the Nobel Peace Prize, and I mean that. Here's why. The root cause of most human conflict — interpersonal, intercultural, international — is the assumption that the other is a threat. This assumption is so deeply embedded we don't even notice it. We lock our doors, avoid eye contact on the subway, cross the street when someone unfamiliar approaches. We've built entire civilizations on the premise that strangers are dangerous until proven otherwise.

Kevin: haelp systematically dismantles that assumption — one connection at a time, across borders, cultures, languages, and every other line we've drawn between "us" and "them." If haelp works at scale — if millions of people around the world have personally stood in front of a stranger, looked them in the eye, and said "I see you, I mean you no harm" — you've changed something fundamental about how human beings relate to each other. You haven't just built a network. You've built the infrastructure for peace.

12 — Karla's reaction

Karla: That sounds really cool and convincing. I can imagine it has two spontaneous effects on people. The first is like buying undeliverable DHL surprise packages — you pull out a box and don't know what's inside. That tension, that curiosity. And the second: I can imagine other people will react with total defensiveness and fear. Standing in front of a stranger and having to say something that creates connection.

Karla: Every dating app, every network is based on having preconceptions about who you want to meet, who's allowed in, who isn't. Your self-worth gets measured by the kind of connections you can have. Who's messaging me on the dating app? Oh, some weirdo. Great.

Kevin: There's so much prejudice. If it's a person of color, what associations do you bring? It all plays in.

Karla: It really does. For people who have been truly socialized through social media structures, it might be an enormously challenging thing — to face someone without knowing who's coming and still be fundamentally well-disposed. It reminds me of those experiments, I think it's some YouTube channel, where people with opposing views sit back to back and talk about a topic. They're only allowed to see each other when the conversation ends. And it regularly ends with complete opponents crying in each other's arms.

Kevin: Oh, wow.

Karla: I think your concept has that same potential. To bring together people who would normally never exchange two words. And honestly, you don't need to build all the networking tools on top of it. There are already apps for organizing help, dating, connecting. You just need this core app that says: I give you a moment of genuine human connection. That's it.

Kevin: I'm honestly a bit impressed right now, because your feedback isn't what I expected. I thought you'd be much more critical. I regularly have moments where I think: what the fuck is this? Is this even enough as a product? The engineer in me, the product manager, the perfectionist, the impostor — they all say it's not flashy enough.

Karla: No, it's absolutely enough as a product. It's perfect because it's small, clear, and uncomplicated.

Karla: There are several things that run powerfully counter to societal trends here. First: loneliness — a massive problem. Second: polarization, which makes political action nearly impossible because you can only act in extremes. The left cannibalizes itself over whether you're pro-Israel or pro-Palestine, and can't accomplish anything because they're fighting each other.

Karla: Your concept counters that. You're encouraged and challenged to enter a purely human encounter with a person whose beliefs you can neither control nor need to. You don't have to convince anyone of anything. You don't need to verify whether they think "correctly" by your standards. It's just about the human encounter and mutual recognition — acknowledging that you exist. Many extreme behaviors today — like spreading hate online — are attempts to feel that you exist. To be heard and seen.

Karla: So with a totally simple tool, you've gotten at the root of something that creates enormous societal problems. I don't think an app solves all problems, but I think an app can show people that there's hope. And hope is the basic energy you need to tackle anything in your life. Without it, you're isolated, depressed, useless, hateful.

Kevin: I would not have expected you to mirror that back to me. I honestly thought you'd push back much harder on the security question.

Karla: That would also be something to address. But I think it's really beautiful that it's not the first thing that comes up. If your whole point is that we should fundamentally trust that other people are just people who don't want to harm us, then you can't ask the security question first.

Kevin: Exactly. And the fact that people think of security first actually proves the concept — it proves that we assume everyone means us harm. Like, you can scoop someone's heart out with a spoon, but you can also eat soup with it.

Karla: Fantastic. Who would have thought? But what this requires is making yourself vulnerable. And that's probably the biggest challenge and hurdle for many people. But if they manage it, it's also the greatest relief.

13 — haelp as self-healing

Kevin: And this is where it connects to what we talked about in the car. I think — and this is today's iteration of haelp — everything is actually one big self-healing mission. Saying to yourself: I am enough, and I don't need more.

Kevin: Last night, I had this moment. I was talking with AI, and I said: "Here's something crazy. What if haelp has always been like therapy for myself, all these years? What if it doesn't need to be built? What if this acknowledgement isn't between strangers — but me acknowledging myself?" And the response was: "That's not crazy. That might be the most important thing you've said. Sit with it for a second."

Karla: Is this the thing with your mother — that you weren't noticed enough?

Kevin: I've talked about this with her extensively. I think where I've landed is that my mother and I have different love languages. I went through a phase where I sort of accused her of not loving me enough, not seeing me enough. She reacted with complete incomprehension, which actually gave me clarity. Her love language is material — she brings nice things. She's present, but not in the way I needed: not intellectually, not emotionally. More physically, materially. I did her an injustice. I just wasn't reflective enough.

Karla: You needed something different and didn't get it. That's all. Regardless of what she was able to give.

Kevin: And that thread runs through everything. My whole school, university, and career life was driven by needing external validation — a grade, a salary, a title, a job — to feel okay. To reassure myself: things are going well.

Karla: And when that validation didn't come for too long, you started doubting yourself.

Kevin: Exactly. And the insane thing is, I'd run at 150 percent — that's my default, driven by "100 isn't enough." But then I'm incredibly vulnerable when someone says "I expected the website to be done today and it's already Friday at four, and I don't care that you have COVID and low energy." And I can't even say no. No explanation. Just no.

14 — Karla's dramaturgical framework

Karla: Let me come at this from dramaturgy. Dramaturgy is a model for human life. Telling stories is a model of human existence. Our brains are structured to create plots.

Karla: Somewhere in our past, things happened that shaped us — what dramaturgy calls the backstory, the conflict preconditions. This produces a psychological, emotional lack. Somewhere, we're incomplete. Everyone has a gap.

Karla: When a story begins, it's always about the character becoming aware of this gap through the events that happen to them. They can only achieve their goals — and more importantly, fulfill their needs — if they recognize this gap and learn to close it from within. Every story follows this pattern.

Karla: Often, characters must change their external goals — their worldly ambitions — in the middle of the story in order to fulfill their actual needs. They have to let go of their outer-world objectives in order to heal. Stories narrate exactly this mechanism.

Karla: The external goal is like a lifeline. "I want to be 150 percent productive because then I feel valuable" — that's the lifeline, performing for the outer world. But underneath lies a different need. And only when I recognize that need can I find healthier ways of dealing with it.

Karla: The question I asked earlier was: what is the true need beneath the goal? Beneath the goal of building a successful app, or saving the world? What self-image stands behind it? Where is the gap in that self-image?

Karla: And that's why I reacted the way I did to what you pitched. Because you're closing exactly that gap. The gap of first needing the courage to be seen. Recognizing: I have a need to be seen. Then having the courage to let people actually look at me. Becoming visible — not with a polished Instagram surface, but just as you are.

Karla: That requires crossing inner hurdles. And that in itself is already the growth process. In dramaturgy, when the character recognizes what they must transform inside themselves — roughly at the story's midpoint — that's the prerequisite for everything that follows. The story couldn't continue without it.

Karla: If you take haelp as that midpoint — those encounters where you cross the inner fear of being seen and say "I am enough, I can be seen as I am" — that's the precondition for acting more freely, being more authentic, making decisions on a different basis. That's the precondition for the story to end well. Individually for each person, and potentially also for society, the more people manage to cross that threshold.

15 — Truly free of caring

Kevin: And the crazy thing right now — my impostor, my self-manipulating voice, is thinking the entire time: oh my God, what if you're just telling me things I want to hear? But I can't deny what you're mirroring back to me. It's genuinely wild.

Karla: I'm not saying this will be a guaranteed success. I can't know that.

Kevin: And for the first time in my life, nothing twitches inside me when you say that. I genuinely don't care. Before, that would have devastated me. I would have crumbled on the floor because I would have felt like you were taking away my identity. But right now, I'm sitting here and I'm doing this for me. I'm talking to you about it, and that's it. It's the first time I'm not immediately thinking about monetization. I'm saying: this is a protocol, it's open source, I don't care. I'm just doing this work for myself.

Karla: That's an independent artist.

Kevin: Even if you'd said "Dude, what the fuck?" — if you hadn't connected with any of it — I think nothing major would have happened inside me. I would have just thought: okay, then this stays on my computer, no problem. Maybe I'll tell someone else. That is fundamentally different from before.

Kevin: What I had before was this external goal: it has to please everyone. If one person doesn't sign off on it, it's immediately bad, and it reflects back on me.

Karla: Because attacks on your identity — as "successful whatever" — are experienced by the ego as death threats. Psychologically, that's real. If someone questions your identity and you're not secure in it, you're enormously vulnerable to criticism, envy, incomprehension.

Kevin: And worse — it's just an idea! A fraction of me as a whole. Someone criticizes a tiny expression of you, and it's not even like they're saying you have an ugly nose, which is literally connected to your body. An idea is even smaller than that.

Karla: Actually, not really — because identity is nothing other than an idea of yourself. Your identity is just a construct you've developed about who you are. And everything you're insecure about is highly vulnerable.

Kevin: What I know for sure is that this had to happen now. I'm at a point where this is 100 percent me. What I'm saying here, how I'm saying it — it's really me. But I'm not coupling it to any success. This is a fundamental shift.

Karla: And that's always the test: when you're truly sure of your thing, for yourself. When you create something authentically from within, the probability that it connects with others is paradoxically so much higher — precisely in the moment when you genuinely stop caring.

Kevin: That's almost like surrender. Like giving up.

Karla: Yes. You can't artificially manufacture the point where you authentically stop caring. It comes when it comes.

Kevin: I've noticed it physically. All those years of tension in conversations — like bracing for a fight, tensing your muscles so the hits don't hurt as much. Reading the room constantly. Who's here? What's the mood? How do I calibrate myself for each person? The people-pleasing costs so much energy.

Karla: And at some point, when you manage to let go of that — or rather, because you simply can't anymore — and you just stop caring and become yourself, suddenly everything runs smoothly. It's completely strange.

Karla: But you need exactly this inner posture to authentically represent an app like the one you've described. Only because you yourself have had the experience that it's safe to let the walls down. It's not just safe — it's better.

16 — The societal dimension

Kevin: And I think it's even urgently necessary. Look at what's happening right now — the world is moving hard into protectionism, isolation. Is that really the way to go?

Karla: People are isolating individually and structurally because the world is becoming threatening in ways that trigger the need for retreat and survival. It's not about seeking connections anymore — it's about surviving. And social media amplifies this: so much hate, so much polarization. You can get a shitstorm so easily, get destroyed so easily. And then you transfer that to the real world and stop trusting the people coming toward you.

Karla: Media in general works through dramatization — making stories more dangerous, more threatening, more intense. Clickbait, negativity — it sticks with you more than positivity because your brain is wired for survival. You have to pay more attention to threats than to good things.

Kevin: And the mechanisms keep accelerating. Social media is faster now. AI in companies — it's hyperspeed.

Karla: This acceleration actually started with the increasing medialization of society. It began quite slowly with the printing press — a curve that went gently upward for centuries. Newspapers, radio, cinema, television, the internet — and it keeps getting faster because the cycles of dramatization required to capture attention keep getting shorter. Time is literally accelerating.

Kevin: And attention spans are shrinking.

Karla: They have to, or you'd go insane from all the input. And people are going insane anyway. I don't believe there are people conspiring behind this — it's just a system that's accelerating itself to stay alive. Like an organism that wants to survive. But organisms running that hot eventually collapse. The question is whether that happens in five years or fifty.

Kevin: Jack Johnson had a great song: "This old train has to break down." I'm no longer trying to stop it. I'm trying to catalyze it — and at the same time say: we need an alternative ready when it does.

Karla: Please not too fast with the collapse, because the alternative isn't anywhere in sight yet.

Karla: But I read an article recently about statistics showing that trust in the future — this feeling of "it'll work out" — is consistently much higher in poorer countries than in richer ones. With the additional component that in poorer countries, people are forced to rely on each other, to build personal networks. And those personal networks are what give you confidence that you'll be okay. Not your bank balance, not your car — the network of people you can count on. That's your insurance for the future.

Kevin: Individualism is ultimately a luxury and a privilege. What you're describing connects so strongly to what I want to bring back into the Western world. Everything has become transactional — elderly care, childcare, all of it monetized. My mother works to earn money to pay the care home where her own mother lives, and she can only visit once a month because she has to work the rest of the time.

Karla: But it's not just the economic mechanism. If you're not forced to care for your dying mother, you're also happy to hand it off — because you don't have to confront death, finitude.

Karla: There was a study on Neukolln and migrant communities in Berlin. A government agency released statistics showing that children of migrants weren't regularly showing up to their apprenticeships, breaking off jobs, being "unreliable." It's very easy to blame that on migrants being lazy. But the study actually showed: these people are so isolated and precarious in our society that their social networks — their personal safety nets — are far more important for their survival than any job. If Uncle needs help moving, of course you skip work. That's far more important for your future.

Kevin: And I want to be self-critical here too. I see myself: white, privileged guy in the system. What I've just recognized about being enough — whole communities have been doing that for a hundred years. "Tell me something new. You need an app for this? You needed thirty years of journaling? You moron."

Karla: Everyone has their own journey. Congratulations.

Kevin: Full disclaimer, I'm aware of all that. But I think there are enough people of my archetype out there, and maybe this can be an invitation, an inspiration.

Karla: And because the ritual you've constructed is so reduced, so stripped down to a basic human level, you might actually bring together the most diverse demographics. That's the plan, right?

Kevin: That is the plan. Left needs to talk to right, because underneath, they have similar fears and the same basic needs — they just propose different solutions. If you look behind the surface, we could just connect over our common fundamental needs.

17 — Next steps

Kevin: What I need right now is simply to put this out there. Even if I reach only five or ten people I can team up with. I'm a million percent sure there are more than ten people out there who relate to this. But I'm not saying the whole world has to use it. Like veganism — it's logical, it makes so much sense, but the whole world will never go vegan. Not one solution is the thing for everyone. Not even English is spoken everywhere. The whole world knows smoking is terrible, and people still smoke.

Kevin: The image I have is "Campfire on the Moon." I want to sit by the fire, start it for myself, create warmth and light — even if it's on the moon. And the people who have the courage and the openness and who are ready — they'll make the journey and come. I just want to attract like-minded people and spend my lifetime surrounded by them.

Karla: That's absolutely achievable. It's not utopian.

Kevin: So practically: step zero is just talking about it, like we're doing right now. Step one would be trying it with some strangers in person — maybe at a place like the Kunstspeicher we visited today, a fire pit, five to fifteen people, a guided experience. Do you think that's too cringe, or could you get people to show up?

Karla: I think it's cringe to do it with people you know. I think it's easier with strangers. That's the whole point, right? We already respect each other — that's built into the friendship. The app adds something precisely where that foundation doesn't exist yet.

Karla: For me personally, the app would actually be the lower barrier — lower than committing to a specific event. Because with the app, I can toggle "open" whenever I feel like it and turn it off whenever I want. Committing to a time and place would be harder for me. But that's subjective.

Karla: What I'd suggest for both personal development and spreading the idea is a podcast format. A host exploring a theme with different guests. What is humanity? What creates connection? What does the world need right now? How do we build trust? How do we create collective agency? How do we dissolve polarization? Not "I have the answer" — just asking the questions. Which fundamental problems do we need to solve?

Kevin: That's exactly what I identify with: a social lab, a playground for social experiments. On that playground, I can let go of the idea without the pressure that it has to be the master solution. It's one expression of many. And the protocol itself — two humans seeing each other and promising each other peace — that's something that's theoretically shared globally. If you look at the UN Sustainable Development Goals, global peace and partnership is right there.

Karla: One thing I'd differentiate: the eye contact requirement. That essentially excludes all neurodivergent people — ADHD, autism, borderline — who find sustained eye contact extremely difficult and uncomfortable. Maybe there are alternative expressions that work for everyone.

Kevin: Oh God, yes. There'll be so much more to figure out. It should be inclusive. That's one more blind spot I'm looking at through my own lens.

Karla: If I were you and you say this app costs you a week of work, I'd just do it. Regardless of whether you know the next steps. The moment it exists, it can start to move. Among writers, we say: the priority is that it exists. Everything else comes after. Write the first draft. Then we can talk.

Kevin: The version I'm thinking of now — I could actually ship it in a week. The previous iteration, I sat for a year engineering and never shipped anything.

18 — haelp as art

Kevin: Everything we talked about today — community building, commons, shared spaces — it all emerges from connections. What I'm really looking for is a vehicle that brings me closer to all of that, not further away.

Kevin: And here's what I realized: maybe haelp doesn't have to follow the startup path. What if it's just art? Because art, if I understand it correctly, doesn't need a purpose?

Karla: It is art. Do you know Marina Abramovic, the performance artist?

Kevin: Someone in Tenerife actually mentioned her — she's doing something in Germany this year.

Karla: Her last major performance was called "The Artist is Present." She sat in a museum in New York, at a table, and you could book a slot to sit across from her. Her entire job was to be completely present for you — to perceive you, to see you. Nothing more. That was the performance. And the videos of what it did to people are incredible.

Karla: There's one video that went viral where a former lover — someone she hadn't seen in decades, the great love of her life — came and sat across from her. The energy...

Kevin: That's exactly my theme. Human connection. And it is art. The difference between art and design is that design has a specific purpose, but art just exists — and then there's interpretation and experience. haelp is sliding fully into art territory now. Before, it was always designed, engineered. But this is more like: here's a frame, but I have no idea what the outcome will be. It will never be the same twice.

Karla: That's part of the definition of art — you offer an experience that only becomes complete through the viewer, the reader, the participant. You never create the finished artwork alone. The recipient always creates the other half through their perception and interpretation. It only becomes real in the encounter.

Kevin: And what I really want — what would be the most beautiful thing I could give myself — is permission to experiment. This playground feeling is what I've had my whole life. The worst, most confining thing would be knowing I'm condemned to sit at a desk for the rest of my life. That's just not all of me. I want to explore. I want to use my lifetime to discover, to try things out.

Karla: If you can also make yourself a bit independent from how much money you have in your pocket — reduce and say, what do I actually need? — then you gain freedom by simply not having to hustle as much. That's what I keep coming back to: the most valuable thing of all is the time you have at your free disposal.

Kevin: That's the ultimate luxury. Time.

Karla: That's the real goal.

Karla: And the thing is, once you've found your lifelong theme — the one you keep working through, keep examining from new angles — you have an infinite pool of ideas ahead of you. Each product is just one tile in the mosaic. One comment on the theme. This app is just a short story in the whole cosmos.

Kevin: Which I've actually already proven — I have already approached this theme from many different angles. Every single one of my ideas revolves around human connection.

Karla: Exactly. And that's not failure — it's exactly what art is about. You examine your theme again and again, finding new aspects each time.

Kevin: I have a concept called "The Radical Recess Club" — back to childlike roots, slowing down, pausing adulthood, protesting hustle culture. And "Sitting by the Fire." It all fits under the same umbrella. It's permission to not have my whole life planned to retirement. Permission to try.

Karla: Every decision for something is always a decision against something else. But once you can look at what you don't have and see the freedom it gives you — needing less, working less, having more time — that's real freedom.

Kevin: Thank you. I genuinely can't thank you enough. This was an incredible conversation.

Karla: Has all of this been recording?

Kevin: Yeah, the whole time. Two and a half hours. You'll probably never listen to it again.

Karla: Probably not. But it's beautiful to have.

Kevin: Thank you for helping me structure my thoughts and bringing your perspective in.

Karla: I structure my own thoughts through this too. So, first things first: go build that app.