Talking about Walrus's design philosophy, the most surprising aspect is— it fundamentally changes the way we view "modification."

Think about how traditional storage systems work. Data goes in, data gets overwritten, data gets updated. These operations are implicitly considered exceptions in system design, as if every write is damaging something. This also explains why, once a project grows large, it requires building a bunch of complex mechanisms—version control, data rollback, historical tracking—layer after layer of patches.

Walrus flips this entirely. Instead of revolving around the "latest version," it treats "history itself" as the main focus. Looking at it from a different angle: modification is not overwriting, but adding; not erasing the past, but writing new states onto the timeline.

This may sound like a detail, but it actually changes the ultimate goal of the entire system. You are no longer concerned with how to "save space," but start thinking about how to "ensure trustworthiness."

Specifically, Walrus is naturally suited for long-term, traceable record-keeping systems, not for quick caching. Its value isn't in helping you access data faster, but in enabling you to answer at any time: how exactly did this result come to be step by step? The entire process is auditable and verifiable.

From a broader perspective, Walrus's true core isn't "storage capacity," but "temporal structure." In simple terms, it’s not managing the data itself, but managing the flow of time. In sufficiently complex systems, time is often the hardest thing to preserve properly and verify trustworthiness. Walrus addresses exactly this problem.