Bitcoiners are not pickles among cucumbers,
nor raisins among grapes.
We’re time travelers holding tomorrow’s money
while the crowd clings to yesterday’s escape.
They count their wealth in paper promises,
we count ours in blocks and time.
They chase yield through endless noise,
we simply stack and climb.
When you finally see the game,
the spell can never be restored.
Because once you’ve measured value in Bitcoin,
everything else feels borrowed.
🫡