Change your mind later
Thrown photos sit at full size in a pile you can browse, put back, or leave there for months.
Your phone is full of photos you'd never miss. Keep hands you one at a time, one movement of your thumb decides it, and it counts the gigabytes as they come back.
No account. No ads. No photograph leaves your phone.
Nothing left to review
Every photo in Lisbon has a verdict.
Go on — drag a card. This is the real thing.
You clear forty screenshots and it buys you a fortnight. You open the grid, select a hundred, and stop — because selecting isn't deciding, and somewhere in that hundred is one you'd have wanted. So you pay for a bigger cupboard instead.
Nobody has ever cleaned a camera roll by sweeping it. The photographs you'd actually want are still in there — the good one from that afternoon, sitting between four near-identical tries and a screenshot of a parking sign. The only thing that works is looking at one photo and deciding it.
One photo fills the screen. Down keeps it, up throws it, left moves on — and the next one arrives. No multi-select grid, because a sweep isn't a decision.
Every decision stays yours to change. There's no Undo button because there's something better: swipe right and decide the photo again while you're looking at it. Pinch, and the deck disappears — the photo alone, edge to edge on black.
The four gestures, named once on your first deck. They fade the moment you touch the screen.
Throwing a photo records a decision and nothing else. Deleting is a separate, deliberate act — and it's always yours.
Thrown photos sit at full size in a pile you can browse, put back, or leave there for months.
Emptying the pile takes an alert from Keep and then the system's own prompt, showing exactly what's going.
iOS holds them in Recently Deleted, where you can still pull one back. Every step before that is reversible.
Every photo you throw out is space you get to use for something else. Keep keeps the running total, so the work has a number on it instead of a feeling.
Keep adds up every photo you've deleted through it and what those photos weighed.
Videos are the heaviest things on your phone and the least reviewed. They play in the deck, with a scrubber.
The pile can sit for months. Empty it, and the space arrives once Recently Deleted lets go — Keep says so rather than counting it twice.
Start with last month. You can stop after four minutes and keep the progress.
So Keep reads it once and hands you somewhere to begin — a month you can finish, a trip it found by itself, the piles that grow while you aren't looking.
Every month you have photos in, with how far through it you are. A green check when there's nothing left.
Keep finds the runs of photographs that look like an outing. Look at one before you believe it.
Near-identical shots line up on one row, so you choose between them once instead of five times.
Screenshots, videos and everywhere you've been, each its own queue. Eighteen hundred screenshots is an evening's work, once.
Every pile stays open and every decision stays changeable. Quit at photo 312 of 1,412 and come back to 312.
Keeps land in a real Photos album and favourites become real favourites, in the app you already use.
There's no sign-in screen because there's nothing to sign in to. Your photos are read on the device, decided on the device, and written back to the device. Keep has no server to send them to.
Two things do leave, and both are named here rather than buried in a policy. Switch on place names and a suggested trip's centre coordinate goes to Apple, to come back as "Zermatt" — one coordinate, no location permission, and a switch you can turn off. And your purchase is checked under an anonymous identifier the app invented on first launch, which means nothing off this phone. No name, no email, no photograph. Read the privacy policy.
You walk back to it and keep it instead. Throwing records a decision and deletes nothing — the photo waits at full size in the Thrown pile until you empty it, and emptying it takes an alert from Keep and then the system's own prompt showing exactly what's going. After that, iOS holds them in Recently Deleted for thirty days.
Nobody can tell you that up front — it depends on what's in there, and a phone full of videos is a different answer from a phone full of screenshots. What Keep does instead is measure it: Summary shows how many photos you've deleted through the app and what they weighed, and how much is still sitting in the Thrown pile waiting on you. The space itself arrives once Recently Deleted lets go, thirty days later or sooner if you empty it in Photos.
Because that's the job. Keep sorts your whole library into months and finds trips inside it. Under limited access you'd have to hand-pick the photos to grant — and those are the photos you came here to find. So Keep asks for full access and sends you to Settings rather than running as a degraded app.
No. Keep reads your library through Photos, so originals stored in iCloud are fetched as they're needed. Album membership and favourites sync back the way any change made in the Photos app does.
The albums stay. Yours are Photos albums and your favourites are Photos favourites, and neither depends on Keep still being installed. What goes with the app are the verdicts themselves — they live on the device — so a month you'd already been through would need deciding again.
Yes. Keep walks the library once and builds the months, the trips, the videos, the screenshots, the places and the duplicates out of that single pass. Four thousand photos take under a second and thirty thousand take a few. After the first time, last launch's answer is on screen while the new one is read behind it.
The yearly plan opens with three free days — a real App Store introductory offer, so Apple runs that clock and you cancel it in your App Store settings rather than here. There's no free tier underneath it: photo access, then the plan, then the app.
A yearly subscription or a one-time lifetime purchase, both restored by your Apple ID on a new phone. No ads, no upsells inside the app, and nothing sold about you.
No, and there isn't one to make. A purchase already belongs to the Apple ID signed into the App Store, which is the whole identity system Keep needs.
iPhone only. The whole app is a one-thumb gesture over a photograph filling the screen, and that's a shape a phone has and a desktop doesn't.
One month done, the good ones in an album, and the gigabytes on their way back.
Download on theApp StoreiPhone, iOS 18 or later. The yearly plan opens with three free days, run by the App Store — and nothing is deleted until you say so twice.