The rim of this wheel is smooth — no months carved, no numbers painted, no dates kept — and the smoothness is a policy, not a shortage. A rim that carried dates would claim to organise other people’s years, and this studio organises nothing for anyone. It keeps one card, about one invented woman, and turns its own work around her.
That narrowness is deliberate and protective. Because the wheel keeps only character cards, it can keep them exactly: one hub per character, one card per hub, no second version quietly diverging in another season. Blends and duplicates are how series acquire relatives they never commissioned.
Everything else a maker produces rests where it belongs: private in the maker’s own account, published only by the maker’s own hand. The wheel is furniture and method — a way to keep a written decision centred, not a service that keeps anything of yours.
A smooth rim, a fixed hub, one card at the centre. The wheel keeps no one’s dates so that it can keep hers exactly.