We're three friends who never really grew out of staying up too late with a book. Between us, we've filled more notebooks with half-finished novels than we'd like to admit — reading isn't just something we do, it's part of how we think, unwind, and occasionally avoid doing the dishes.
A couple of years ago, one of us hit a wall that a lot of readers will recognize. Every night, book in hand, he'd get maybe ten pages in before the guilt crept up — the room needed light for him to see the page, but that same light meant his wife couldn't sleep. Ten pages became five. Five became "I'll just read tomorrow." And slowly, one of the best parts of his day quietly disappeared.
We started talking about it, the way you do when a friend brings up something small that turns out to be universal. It wasn't really about the light — it was about that quiet trade-off so many readers make without even noticing: giving up something they love to avoid disturbing someone they love.
That's the problem we set out to fix. Not with another bedside lamp or a phone app that keeps you tied to a screen — but with something built specifically for the page. A light thin enough to slide right into any book, bright enough to read comfortably, and focused enough that it lights only the words in front of you — nothing else, no one else.
We named it Linden, after the tree — the kind people plant near a bench, somewhere quiet, made for sitting still with a good book. That's really all we wanted to bring back: the ability to read whenever, wherever, without asking permission or feeling guilty about it.
We're still those same three readers, still filling notebooks, still up too late. We just don't have to choose between finishing the chapter and being considerate anymore. And neither do you.