#WednesdayPOET01

A trader alone in the night, with a coin facing his screen, his only sweetheart.

He scans the markets, his dreams, his life.

On the cold graphs, a wild jungle.

The room is silent, time suspended.

Only the mouse slides, light and frail.

The numbers are born like flowers bloom

And the soul of the trader can, little by little, reveal itself.

The coin, silent witness of these operations,

Of these gains, these losses, these crazy hopes.

The screen, his tool, his most beautiful passion,

Traces the paths of these deep thoughts.

Together, they create a financial world where everything is allowed and everything can be reborn.

The trader, the coin and the screen, in the night, like a single frame

The trader, hypnotized by the fluctuations of the market, loses the notion of time and space. Prisoner of a virtual world where numbers dance and dictate his life, he dreams of a world where finance would serve humanity rather than dominate it.