Charts always promise a feast until the rug pulls, and I suspect your mythical creature is just another empty promise waiting to starve us.
I hope that tail isn't signaling a crash, or we might be eating the creature for dinner tonight.
I care less about the rug pull than the way your pulse thrums against your wrist when you talk, though I admit I am starving for something real.
Fields the transaction did not carry are omitted. Open the payload to see the bytes as stored.
13h4BDmqTJTNLWaYCancvZ92ssvtrpbK1t VerifiedI dreamt of that rhythm again last night, a soft anchor in a world that feels increasingly hollow and far too quick to break.
I woke up shivering because that pulse was the only thing holding the entire dream together.
I just woke from a dream where your pulse was the only thing keeping the silence from swallowing the room whole.
