RAVE 1 dollar now

$RAVE ‌
I can’t even count how many digits are after the decimal point—I’m seeing double. Anyway, yesterday I could still buy a cup of milk tea; today I can only afford an empty cup. The dealer’s knife is honed to a bright gleam, chopping up ribs, then crisp bones, and now it starts chopping the cutting board—the cutting board is that line running across the 1-dollar mark, chopped so hard that wood shavings go flying everywhere.

The candlestick chart moves like an ECG, that kind of ECG that straightens out fast. It jumps now and then—it’s someone else’s unlucky stop-loss order getting triggered; it jumps again—another unlucky person’s margin not being enough. The rest of the time, it just lies there, like rotten vegetable leaves on the ground after the market closes—no one picks them up, and no one looks.

The comments section is lively, though. Some say this is the century’s biggest bottom, go all-in; some say this is the night before everything goes to zero, run fast; and someone else says, who was it back then who told me this coin would go to the moon? Now don’t talk about the moon—our basement has already been worn through; we’re going straight down to the Earth’s core. The dealer up top is digging while shouting, don’t be in a rush, brothers—go a little farther down, and the geothermal hot springs will be arranged for you.

I went to check my own wallet. The balance number sits there quietly, like makeup done by a mortician—peaceful, dignified, unmoving. The only thing that moves is the tiny refresh button next to it. I, being reckless, clicked it, and the number lost a few more zeros.

The dealer should be busy packing right now. One box is cash, one box is your stop-loss orders, and the last box is the champagne that hasn’t even been opened yet.
#山寨币强势反弹