Stories that sound like home.

Lullavo started with a book.

Before Lullavo, there was Collegiate ABCs, a small series of board books about the schools people love most. A is for arboretum, B is for bookstore, the details that make a campus feel like yours.

We noticed something quickly. People weren’t buying Collegiate ABCs for themselves. They were buying them as gifts, almost always for the new baby of a friend who had a strong connection to a particular school. A grandparent who taught there. Parents who met on the quad. A whole family that bleeds the same color every Saturday in the fall.

The book was already doing the work of carrying a place and a story across generations. We wanted to add one more layer of the real thing: the voice of the person who would read it aloud.

From one book to every book.

We built a way for someone to record themselves reading a book, saved inside a tiny sticker that goes on the inside cover. Scan the QR, press play, hear Grandpa reading the book he bought for you.

We thought the idea would stay close to home, tied to Collegiate ABCs. It didn’t. People wanted it for every book. The picture book a parent reads the same way every night. The chapter book an uncle finished over a summer. The dog-eared copy of Goodnight Moon that hasn’t left the nightstand in twenty years.

So we opened it up. Lullavo now works with any book, any voice, any recipient. Publishers use it for in-book codes. Individuals buy sticker packs and gift them for births, graduations, moves, memorials. The small and large moments where a voice matters more than a thing.

What we care about.

Any device you already own.

Other products in this space come bundled with hardware: an electronic book, a small reader, a dedicated speaker. We looked at those and kept coming back to one question: why? Every phone has a camera that reads QR codes. Every tablet and laptop opens a link. Lullavo uses what people already have, and what their grandchildren will already have ten years from now. Nothing extra to buy. Nothing to break.

Technology that only works if you can afford a separate device isn’t really technology. It’s a moat. We picked the other direction.

The product is simple on purpose. No app for listeners. No sign-in to play a recording. A child scanning a QR on their grandmother’s birthday, or years later, shouldn’t need to know what an account is.

The recording belongs to whoever made it. We let you download every file you have, any time, as often as you want. If Lullavo ever has to close, you get your recordings first, we give you ninety days of notice, and we don’t bury the terms. Our wind-down policy says exactly what happens.

The voice is the point. Everything else is scaffolding.

Voice Inheritance.

A reading voice is part of what you leave behind. Every family account includes a “pass this library to…” designation. When a primary account holder passes away, the full voice library transfers to the person they named. We’re partnering with estate-planning platforms to offer a one-page voice-library codicil.

Coming soon.

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Say hi.

Lullavo is a small, personal project. When you send a note, a person reads it. That person is usually me.

Send a message →  ·  Open Lullavo →

Mary Voelker, founder