Make someone their own website as a gift.
A private page for the occasions a text can’t hold — a birthday, a wedding, a goodbye. Their name sits on the URL. It stays up as long as you want it there.
Real pages, ready to make theirs
LiveA ready-made template for every occasion.
The reaction is the whole point.
Real notes back from the people who opened one.
opened the anniversary page
“I have looked at it every single day. I didn't know you could make something like this ❤️”
opened the birthday
“Thank you for making this — honestly the nicest thing anyone's done.”
opened the wedding invite
“I tried it AND IT WORKED!! THANK YOU SO MUCH 🥹🥹🥹”
opened the farewell page
“Read every message twice. People I hadn't spoken to in years.”
opened the memorial
“The kindest thing anyone made for our family. It's staying up forever.”
opened the anniversary
“She cried. In a good way. Best €14 I've ever spent, honestly.”
Not a card. A place to keep the things you’d lose.
Photos, a letter, a playlist, the date, a Yes/No that records the answer. Real blocks, arranged the way the moment wants — not a profile, not a feed.
A gallery
Every photo in one warm place — not a feed.
A real letter
The words a card is too small to hold.
A playlist
The song that was playing that summer.
Yes / No
A question that actually records the answer.
Quick, and still worth keeping.
Pick the occasion
On your phone, say what the gift is for. We seed the right blocks and a draft of the words, so you start by editing — not facing a blank page.
Make it theirs
Swap the photos, rewrite the lines, pick from twenty-odd warm palettes and a shelf of typefaces. Every default is already deliberate, so quick still looks finished.
Send the link
It lives at your own URL — free on a Givouh subdomain, or bring a domain of your own. Add a password if it should be quieter still.
For more than one day.
Each one opens the editor already set up for the moment. Or start from a blank page.
Flowers wilt.
Websites don’t.
Most gifts have a half-life — a bouquet, a card, a long text, gone by the weekend. This is the one that’s still there next year, at an address only the two of you know.
Twenty warm palettes. A shelf of typefaces.
Tap through until it feels like them. Quick still looks finished.