As a Brooklyn-born digital nomad with a poet mother and engineer father, I watched OPUL’s price swing from $0.0447 to $0.0307 in four snapshots—each dip echoing my own choices. When the market froze, I didn’t sell my crypto for profit. I sold it for art. This isn’t finance—it’s grief turned into code. Here, every transaction is a heartbeat. And in Web3, silence speaks louder than any bank.