Hindi, Punjabi, Tamil, Telugu, Bengali, Marathi, Urdu, Gujarati, Malayalam, Sinhala — spoken by the weavers of Varanasi, the block-printers of Jaipur, the potters of Kutch, and the embroiderers of Lucknow. Speak as you would to a neighbour.
Spanish, Portuguese, Quechua, Aymara, Guaraní — for the alpaca weavers of Puno, the ceramicists of Oaxaca, the leatherworkers of Córdoba. Your buyer in Tokyo reads it in Japanese; they hear it in you.
Swahili, Yoruba, Igbo, Hausa, Amharic, isiZulu, Lingala, Shona — and forty more on the roadmap. Because a mask carver in Benin should not need a translator to be heard by a buyer in Berlin.
Vietnamese, Thai, Khmer, Lao, Burmese, Mongolian, Arabic, Hebrew, Farsi, Turkish, Russian — and a long tail of thirty more. Seventy-one languages at last count — the list grows every month.
Photograph the piece. Speak about it in the language you dream in. Your storefront publishes in about a minute — translated into whatever tongue your buyer arrives in.
A single picture. Cotton shadow, wooden floor — the imperfections are the story.
In the language you dream in. What it's made of, who it's for, what it carries.
One link, any language.