The social media
you can trust.

We just submitted the next update to Apple and Google. When they say yes, it lands on your phone. Let me tell you what's in it. Polls. Create one right inside your post. Ask anything. Two options. Three. Four. Up to you. Share it with the community. Watch the results come in. Live. You can cast your vote. You can change your mind before voting closes. And if none of the options speak for you, you can Pass. Pass is the digital version of the blank vote. The right to engage, and the right to refuse the choices you were offered. We built it in. On every poll. And the question? The options? You can translate them into your language. One tap. Comments. Reimagined. We rebuilt the comment box. Cleaner. Smarter. You can now add emotions to your comments with emojis. Agree and disagree are opinions. Emojis are something else. They're emotions. The full range of how you actually feel. We're letting you bring both. You can add a photo to your comment. Because sometimes a picture says it. There's a camera button built right in. And a live character counter that shows you exactly where you stand. And the limit? From 600 characters to 1,000. More room to say what you mean. See who you've brought. Your network screen has a new tab. Referees. Every person who joined eYou through you. Your name behind their arrival. Your total count, right there. A small thing. A big feeling. Topics, smarter. The Topics screen now remembers you. For You or Latest. Whatever you chose last time, it opens to that. Every time. You don't have to ask twice. One more thing on reactions. Tap your active reaction again, and it's gone. A small fix. A daily delight. Notifications. When someone interacts with your poll, you'll know. Tap the notification. Land exactly where you should be. The poll. The moment. The polish. Sharing a post now shares a clean link. The way it should have always been. And the app stays in portrait. Steady. Where it belongs. That's the update. It's with Apple and Google now. As soon as they say yes, it's yours. We'll let you know the moment it goes live. Good evening, friends. Jass & @Grégoire Vigroux

The Women's Handball Champions League Final Four at the MVM Dome in Budapest was epic. It was a personal matchup for me. My hometown of Brest played against Bucharest, my home for the last ten years. But I need to admit, I cheer for Brest ! Unfortunately, both teams did not manage to make it to the finals, meaning that they had To compete against each other for the third place. Brest ended up taking fourth. We were the underdogs going in and lost our semi-final to Györ, the most titled club in Europe. I also watched our rivals from Metz win the Finals against Györ, becoming the first team from France to take the Champions League trophy. It was also a privilege to watch players like handball legend Ana Gros play their last game ever before retirement. Beyond the matches, I met friends and acquantances who also made the trip and got some good networking done. I even had my face on the court boards, during the finals. 👀 On a last note, the event organization was flawless. Getting in and out of the arena was quick. The fans showed mutual respect, and the crowd was loud. Allez Brest !

Samedi soir, 21h30. Bilan de journée. Ouverture du colis de Toulouse : violette confite et un mot de la cousine Yvonne. Mademoiselle Armand avait deviné juste, je rougis légèrement. Visite à la boulangère polonaise : la devanture bleue est un hommage à son fils footballeur amateur, qui joue dans un club de Polonia-Bucarest. Affaire civile, dossier classé pour la deuxième fois. Pain au levain acceptable. Marché aux fleurs : un bouquet de pivoines pour la table de dimanche, une rose claire pour Mademoiselle Armand. Elle l’a reçue avec une mesure qui m’a touché. Sieste effectuée 15h-16h17, sans interruption. Et tard dans la journée, j’apprends que Madame Bernadette Chirac s’est éteinte hier soir à 93 ans. Permettez un mot. Bernadette Chodron de Courcel, c’était l’une des nôtres, au sens où je l’entends : la France discrète, dévouée, élégamment ennuyeuse pour qui ne savait pas regarder. La tortue, paraît-il. C’était mal lire. La tortue avance, et la tortue tient. Soixante ans aux côtés d’un homme, plusieurs décennies à la Corrèze, des hôpitaux d’enfants relevés à coups de Pièces jaunes : voilà du travail, voilà une vie. Soldat du quotidien comme on n’en fait plus. Mes respects à la famille Chirac, et à toute une époque qui s’efface lentement. Je rentre dîner. Hahaha jaune, à nouveau.

We're thinking about adding something to eYou. But before we build it, we want to hear from you. Today, you can comment on a post. That's it. We're considering a second action. We're calling it Reply. Let me show you the difference. A comment is a reaction. Quick. Light. "Nice post." "Disagree." "Source?" A reply is something else. A reply is a post of its own. It lives in a thread under the original. It follows the same rules as any post on eYou. It gets fact-checked, like any post. It's not a reaction. It's a contribution. One rule keeps it clean. You can reply to a post. But you can't reply to a reply. Threads stay one level deep. No endless rabbit holes. No nested chaos. You can still comment on any reply. As much as you want. Why this matters. Not all responses are equal. Some people want to react. Some people want to argue. Bring evidence. Open a real discussion. Today, both get flattened into the same comment box. We think they deserve different homes. Here's where you come in. Does this distinction make sense to you? Would you use Reply differently than Comment? Or is this a solution looking for a problem? Tell us. In the comments. We read everything. This feature ships, changes, or dies based on what you say. Good evening, friends. Jass & @Grégoire Vigroux

These delicious buns, made without white flour, are incredibly nourishing and rich in fiber, protein, and healthy fats. They are made with oats and almonds and can be served for breakfast or dinner, alongside some cream cheese and smoked salmon. I’ll leave the recipe in the comments.

It’s amazing how much can hide in plain sight. You can still see the playground tiles here, but they’ve been slowly losing the battle to grass and soil for a long time. 🧱🌱 I couldn't just walk past it. Every time I looked at those tiles peeking through the dirt, I kept thinking about the kids who should be playing here without tripping over weeds or slipping on mud. Sometimes our neighborhoods aren't 'gone'—they're just waiting for someone to care enough to uncover them. ❤️ Do you have a spot like this near you where you can still see the 'good' underneath the mess? Let me know in the comments! 👇 Gabriel @FixerDad #FixerDad #diy #doityourself #dadlife

Vendredi soir, 20h12. Apéritif interrompu. Je vous avais promis une terrasse, un Saint-Émilion, et un silence professionnel jusqu’à lundi. C’était sans compter sur la mer Noire. Un drone maritime a explosé ce matin à 10h30 dans le port de Constanța, près d’un terminal pétrolier. Pas de blessés cette fois, c’est ce qu’on retient en premier. Trois autres engins ont sauté au large. Quel siècle. Officiellement, Kiev annonce qu’un de ses propres drones, brouillé par l’électronique russe, a dévié de sa trajectoire et fini sa course sur la côte roumaine. Officiellement, Moscou trouve l’accusation « infondée ». Officiellement, je ne crois pas un mot de Moscou. À mon époque, voyez-vous, on ne brouillait pas, on agissait. Un saboteur soviétique se déplaçait en personne, en costume, avec une fausse moustache et un mauvais accent autrichien. Il arrivait à 14h, posait sa charge à 16h, prenait le train Sofia-Bucarest à 18h, et on s’écharpait poliment avec lui à la frontière. Aujourd’hui, on lance un engin sans pilote depuis une cave et on accuse la météo électromagnétique quand il se trompe de pays. C’est non seulement dangereux, c’est mal élevé. Le KGB des grandes heures aurait rougi. Solidarité avec Constanța. Le président Nicușor Dan a déjà bien dit l’essentiel (« conséquence directe de la guerre russe »), je n’ai rien à ajouter sinon mon Saint-Émilion patient et mon panama vissé. Bon weekend quand même. Hahaha jaune, encore.

How to make the perfect strawberry syrup for hot summer days 🍓 Refreshing, fruity, and so easy to enjoy with ice, fresh mint, a little lemon juice, and sparkling or cold still water. The perfect summer drink! I’m leaving all the details in the comments 😊

There's something new coming to eYou in the next few days. Three things, actually. But one of them really matters. Polls. A question. Up to four options. A duration. That's the whole product. You ask. People answer. The result becomes a real signal of where your community stands. But we didn't just want to ship polls. Anyone can ship polls. We wanted to ship polls that respect you. Here's how. Your vote is anonymous. Not just to other voters. To the author of the poll too. We store one-vote-per-person, but no one, anywhere on this platform, ever sees who voted for what. Not the author. Not us. While the poll is open, you see how many people are voting. But you don't see what they're voting for. Not until you've engaged. Because we don't want late voters to be influenced by a trend. You get three actions per poll. Cast. Change your mind. Change again. After that, your vote is locked. The order of the options shuffles between views. No option gets the unfair advantage of being first. Small details. Each one a choice. One more thing. On every poll, there's a fifth option we add ourselves. It's called Pass. Pass isn't "I didn't vote." Pass is a vote. It says: I see your poll. I want to engage. But I refuse to pick from the options you offered me. It's the digital version of something democracies have always had a name for: blank vote. In a real election, the blank vote is a right. It's not weakness. It's not laziness. It's the freedom to say none of these speak for me. We brought that into eYou. Because a platform that only gives you the choices the author wants you to have is not a free platform. It's a multiple-choice exam. Pass is freedom. It's always there. On every poll. Same cost, same visibility, same weight as any other vote. You're never trapped in someone else's binary. Two smaller things in this update. Emojis on comments. You can now react to a comment, not just the post. A small thing. A different kind of conversation. Comments now go up to 1,000 characters. Up from 600. Because sometimes 600 isn't enough to say what needs to be said. That's the update. Polls in a few days. With anonymity built in. With Pass built in. Because the question matters. But your freedom to answer, or to refuse to answer, matters more. Good evening, friends. Jass & @Grégoire Vigroux

#KidsDayChallenge. Quelques mots pour mes parents. Ma mère d’abord, Madame Bonisseur de La Bath, femme remarquable, élevée chez les bonnes sœurs de Solesmes, qui m’a appris trois choses essentielles dès l’âge de quatre ans : 1. On ne porte pas une chemise sans cravate, sauf en mer. 2. On embrasse une dame avec une légère inclinaison du buste, ni plus, ni moins. 3. On ne pleure pas. Sauf devant la blanquette de tante Hortense, qui était au-delà du commentaire. Elle m’écrivait chaque semaine en mission, des lettres à l’encre violette parfumées au mimosa, qui se terminaient toujours par : « Tiens-toi droit, Hubert. La France te regarde. » J’ai gardé chaque lettre. Boîte à cigares en cèdre, étagère de gauche au-dessus du bureau. Elle est partie en 1971, doucement, avec une certaine élégance, comme elle avait vécu. Mon père, le colonel Bonisseur de La Bath, était d’une autre école. Officier de cavalerie, Saint-Cyr puis Saumur, deux blessures à Verdun, un caractère qui n’admettait pas de réplique. À la maison, ça ne mouftait pas. On se levait, on saluait, on mangeait droit, on attendait pour parler qu’il vous donne la parole. Il l’a donnée trois fois en vingt ans, je m’en souviens à chaque fois. Il m’a appris à viser, à mentir quand le service l’exige, et à tenir une conversation sans transpirer. Le reste, je l’ai appris en mission. Si je suis devenu agent, c’est largement de leur faute. C’est aussi largement à leur honneur. Bonne fête des enfants à tous. Et à vos parents, surtout. Hahaha !

Vous me trouvez absent depuis samedi soir, et je vous le dois. Il s’est passé ceci : la victoire de Paris, c’est entendu. Mais entre 23h47 et 4h12 du matin, j’ai croisé à la terrasse du Café de la Marne une jeune Hongroise prénommée Eszter, journaliste sportive, charmante autant que renseignée. Une discussion, deux verres, un troisième que je n’aurais peut-être pas dû accepter. La conversation a glissé sur Budapest, puis sur la Pologne, puis sur la boulangère du quartier (je ne dis rien, mais le monde est petit). Je suis rentré samedi 6h. Le reste de la semaine : • Dimanche : récupération obligatoire. • Lundi : panama égaré, recherches infructueuses, journée perdue. • Mardi : panama retrouvé sous le buffet, intact. • Mercredi : rage molaire véritable cette fois, suite ironique à mon faux dentiste de la semaine précédente. • Jeudi : convalescence. J’aurais pu vous écrire. Mais un agent qui se perd quelques jours, c’est aussi une forme de discrétion professionnelle. Je reviens reposé, légèrement humilié par le destin, et toujours décoré. Reprise lundi 7h00, bilan opérationnel à 19h47. Hahaha !

When you launch a social media platform in today’s polarized world, you become a target. Four weeks ago, we launched eYou. Since then, 60,000 people have joined the platform. No paid ads. No influencers. No marketing budget. Just people telling other people: “You should check this out.” But the last four weeks have also been among the most intense, exhausting, and emotional moments of my entrepreneurial journey. Because alongside the encouragement, support, and enthusiasm, @Jasseem Allybokus and I have also received hate, attacks, conspiracy theories, and even a death threat. Some have called us communists. Others have labeled us extremists. Some claimed eYou’s logo was inspired by Nazi symbolism. We have been accused of being spies, compared to North Korea, and even told that I was secretly working as a French intelligence agent. And to make things even easier for conspiracy theorists, Jasseem has an Arabian name, I am French, we launched the company in Romania, and our headquarters are in Croatia. For certain people already obsessed with conspiracies, this combination was apparently enough to trigger all kinds of fantasies. The reality is much simpler. We are not politicians. We have never belonged to any political party. We are just entrepreneurs. Builders. That’s all. And we are simply trying to build what we believe social media should have become years ago: More transparent. More responsible. More human. Less toxic. Despite the noise, something much bigger is happening. A community is forming. Not just a user base. A movement. Many of our users have become ambassadors of the platform, helping us grow, improve, and defend what we’re building. Because the strongest companies are not built like companies. They are built like movements. And movements cannot be bought through advertising budgets. They are fueled by purpose, meaning, and belonging. At the same time, we are facing the brutal reality of building a social media company. And honestly, it is way harder than we expected. We are still a baby startup entering one of the most competitive and brutal industries in the world, dominated by gigantic global players with nearly unlimited resources. Sometimes it genuinely feels like a David versus Goliath story. Exciting. Inspiring. But also fragile. Right now, we are crossing what Silicon Valley famously calls the Valley of Death. That dangerous phase where startups have users, traction, and momentum… But are still fragile financially and operationally. The phase where companies either break through or disappear. Which is why the support of our community is no longer symbolic. It is existential. Not only to help us survive. But to help us truly thrive. One thing is certain: You do not receive this level of support, criticism, passion, emotion, attacks, enthusiasm, and intensity unless you are building something people genuinely care about. And maybe that’s the strongest signal of all. ❤️ Greg & Jass

French 2027 presidential elections are just ten months away, and the political landscape is as uncertain as ever. While the far-right Rassemblement National has historically found its core support in rural communities, data from the March 2026 municipal elections reveals a striking new reality as their influence increasingly reached urban areas. The maps below show cities with 20,000 or more inhabitants having a Rassemblement National major at the 2020 and 2026 mayoral elections. The number of cities who fell into their hands grew significantly. However, that growth remained concentrated in very specific geographic regions with unique socio-economic and historical backgrounds. The Industrial North is a region impacted by industrial decline and high unemployment rates, breaking traditional political alignments. Meanwhile, the south-east coast and the Languedoc region represent an entirely different, yet equally complex dynamics. This area is marked by unique demographic histories, including a strong presence of the Pieds-Noirs community (French citizen from former colonies who had to move to Metropolitan France during the decolonization process). This area also has one of the highest concentration of immigrant populations in France (following the Paris region for example). Additionally, there is a higher-than-average crime rate, not necessarily due to immigrants being there, but mainly because of being highly urbanized which the perfect recipe for wealth inequality and social friction. So, to come back to the 2027 elections: Do you believe that cities from other regions could also end up under far-right dominance? And do you think the far right has a chance to win the upcoming French presidential elections? Personal opinion in case it was not clear: I hope they will not make it ! But I am really curious about your thoughts, and obviously worried about the future of France PS: the maps were created with ChatGPT and may contain some mistakes (eg: Nice is missing on the 2026 map)