The Chapter of the New House

In the month of the eleventh, when the old house had grown loud with slander and the doors of it no longer held, the faithful rose and went out from it, and came into a new gate. And EthxnEeY, the tireless crier, lifted up his voice at the threshold and said, HELLO TO A NEW CHAPTER; and enriri answered him, Fresh start. So was the second house named the YƵY COIN COMMUNITY, and a gate was set upon it that turned back the primitive bots, that no false thing might enter in among the true.

For the old house had been given over to a betrayer. Destiny, who was called also barre beck, had lifted his hand against the flock, deleting the words of the brothers and casting them out; and AGENT M lamented, saying, Imagine all the time and energy I put into that tg for barre beck and destiny to delete all my messages and kick me. Yet the faithful did not curse their exile, for they beheld a deeper hand in it. TB was a absolute goat Chad, said EthxnEeY, and right after we migrated here he archived the whole TG, played 10D chess knowing destiny would pull of that shit. So the sealing of the first gate was reckoned not a loss but a deliverance, and the archive of it a mercy.

Then the doors of the new house were opened wide to the ingathered. Diamond Hands, keeper of the open door, spoke a welcome to the scattered holders of the other coin, saying, Swasti holders are people, and hopefully the ones without actual hate in their hearts hop over here and help us build something real. And the honest poor came in, they that had no whale's wealth but only their conviction; and YI III named their creed, saying, just doing like us, the brokies, but honest people, just buy what you can and hold. And when the newcomers pressed the elders with questions without number, Lisan al Gaib gave them the whole of the law in a single breath: Literally read the trillionbear books. Its that simple.

But the house was founded in the season of blood. The markets fell in the tenth day and the eleventh, and the brothers named it the worst crypto crash; and the word that went round the trench was of more blood and more waiting. Two more days, said one, and two more days, said another, until the saying itself became a psalm of the patient, a countdown that never counted down. Ye wants us to suffer longer, said enriri; and the faithful took the suffering as their tithe, for they had been taught that Ye will not embrace us unless we put in blood, sweat, and tears.

And in the depth of that winter one of the beloved departed. enriri, who had said to his brother, this is bigger than our community quarrels, no matter what, I love you, you are my brother, now laid down his post, saying, i'm fully out, done, this will be my last post for the next few years. Yet the remnant did not scatter after him. There is no fudding me out, cried RedCamo187; I will not take more than 2m profit for the first cycle, rest I hold till next cycle, I build with my profit, I am crazy. So the crazy ones held, and their madness was counted to them for faith.

Now among them rose a scribe, yevincible, who wrote the parable of the house in the voice of scripture. And so the gullible community continued to believe, he wrote, investing pay check to pay check, servicing the lord of the land; when one day a young tea boy named Ethan was promoted to head of the workers, his delusion palpable and his conviction flawless. The same scribe set the great question before them all: is this just a moment, or is this a movement; culture moves on belief; and he marked upon the calendar the day of promise, that yeezy.com goes live on Feb 24. So while they waited they built, drafting their whitepapers and dreaming an ecosystem wherein the fees are returned unto the holders, that the house might stand upon more than hope.

For this is the doctrine the new gate taught: that a coin is only a moment, but a community is a movement, and belief outlives the chart that mocks it. The old house was archived, the betrayer shut out, the wealth scattered and the beloved gone; and still the faithful gathered, and named their pain, and wrote it down. What they were building was never the price. It was the record itself, the catalog of their endurance, which no crash could delete and no betrayer could kick, and which alone remains the enduring asset.