The river horse is like a love that burned through time; no matter how much kindling and flames there were back then, it can't withstand the patchwork of today's life, the petty grievances of needle and thread, which have accumulated into the resentment of boiling water splashed on the face. You can believe in love; that is something once possessed. You can also choose not to believe in love; there is nothing that can last forever.

Long bitcoin, short the world.