Bitcoin Blues: A Rebound
Pulp noir ballad about the BTC bounce.
It was a Thursday, or maybe a Tuesday— the kind of day that smells like burnt coffee and broken promises. I was nursing a chart that bled red like a snitch in a back alley.
Then he walked in—Trump, all bluster and silk, muttering sweet nothings about China. Said the trade war was just a lover’s spat. Markets swooned. Bitcoin lit a cigarette.
She’d been down bad—real bad. Forty-six percent of her shine scraped off like cheap lipstick. But now? She was back in heels, strutting past the S&P like it owed her money.
I lit a match, watched the candle flicker. In this town, even crypto’s got a tell.
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