$BTC

☕ Morning coffee...

In the cup — dawn, in the code — the soul,

The coin is silent, so the trend does not rise.

QR — like a portal between heaven and body,

Poetry — the key to the invisible world...

Coins, coins...

Graphs, deals, signals, strategies...

But no — this is not wealth.

I look at the flower.

Hosta.

A white, large flower with wide petals, surrounded by green leaves and still unopened buds.

It silently speaks of cycles, of waiting, of the depth of existence.

And the aroma — deep, strong, sweet — like a memory of something real, untouched.

What is it thinking about? How to understand it?..

It simply is.

It blooms because it is its nature.

And in this simplicity — greatness that cannot be bought.

Wealth?..

And words arise from memory, cutting in, drowning out all thoughts —

> “I tell you that not even Solomon in all his glory was dressed like one of these.."

(Matthew 6:29)