It started with a box.
A 3D printer arrived at our door one afternoon. None of us had used one before. We unpacked it on the living room floor, argued about the instructions for an hour, and somehow got it working by dinner. The first print was a lopsided cube. We were unreasonably proud of it.
Then came the experiments.
Weekends turned into printing sessions. One of us would find a cool model online, the other would tweak the settings, and the third would sand and paint whatever came out. Some prints failed spectacularly. Others surprised us. Every failure taught us something, and every success made us want to try something harder.
Friends started asking.
"Can you make me one of those?" turned into "Can you make me something custom?" Suddenly we were taking orders over WhatsApp, staying up late to get prints done, and figuring out how to package things so they wouldn't break in transit. It still didn't feel like a business. It felt like a hobby that people happened to pay us for.
Now it's this.
We're still in the same living room. Still using the same printer (plus two more). Still arguing about settings. But now we have a website, a small catalog of things we love making, and customers who trust us to make something special for them. Every print that leaves our workshop has been touched by all three of us — designed, printed, and finished by hand.
We don't know where this goes. But we're having the time of our lives finding out.