The men and women who till the charts with blistered mice and dry throats-they know the sound of a coin when it sighs. They heard it again last night when Optimism curled down to $0.1067 like an old dog too tired to chase the rabbit any farther. The warrants-F-3 July warrants-stand just beyond the fence row like hired hands waiting for payday, and every click of the ledger is another boot scuff on the porch boards. They say the price might turn around if the downward trend decides to take a nap, but the field is dry, and the wind don’t always blow favor. 😒
Still, there’s a rumor, passed from screen to cracked screen, that 174 million coins could tumble out of escrow like loose oats from a torn sack. If those July warrants wake up hungry, the buying could surge and the price might straighten its back and walk tall again. Till then the $0.95 wall squats in the road like an ornery mule, stubborn and unmoved, kicking sideways every hopeful tick that tries to pass. You watch the wall long enough, you start to talk to it. Mostly it laughs. 😂
Optimism Sees Price Stabilization After Sharp Decline to $0.1067
Earlier the price had climbed, bright and brassy, up the corral fence-then it slipped, caught a spur, and landed hard on $0.1067, down a clean 8.88%. Momentum ran off the way a steer bolts when it smells blood. Buyers thinned out like pickers at a frostbit orchard; only the stubborn ones stayed behind, chewing on $0.105 like last year’s jerky. If that level holds, maybe this story finds a kinder chapter. Maybe. 🤷♂️
Analyst @TheBull_Stocks, squinting at the same sun-baked numbers, reckons the warrant exercise could turn the herd toward greener grass. One hundred seventy-four million coins is a wagon-load of feed-scatter it on the prairie and even the laziest bull might lift his head. Traders are told to keep their fingers loose on the reins, for this colt bucks quick.
So they wait under the tin sky, chewing nothing but patience, hoping the wind shifts bullish. Every flicker of green on the screen is a mockingbird whistle that keeps them awake.
Sell Wall Resistance at $0.95
At $0.95 the road narrows to a single plank bridge, and on the other side the sell orders stack like cordwood. Analyst CW calls it the “wall so thick even the crows fly around it.” Should the price mosey up that far, it’ll meet a crowd of folk eager to dump bags heavier than harvest-time guilt. A man could stand there all day waving promises and still not coax the price across. 😅
Traders, half-hopeful and half-hungover, draw rectangles on their screens, naming the space between $0.60 and $0.95 the “Consolation Saloon.” They go in, drink chart water, and pretend each candlestick is another shot of courage. Most nights they leave thirsty.
Support Levels and Potential for Reversal
Below, the $0.105 patch holds-thin soil but enough to plant a seed of rebound. Below that, $0.66 is the cellar door that never quite slams. It’s been tested by every boot in town, yet it still creaks open and lets the price step back inside by lamplight. The floorboards groan but hold; maybe that’s as close to optimism as a coin gets. 🍀
If the broader wind blows warmer-if whales quit splashing and the Fed stops scaring rabbits-then $OP might hitch its wagon to those two sturdy planks and trundle upward. Till then we listen for the next creak.
Volume and Market Activity
In the last stretch of daylight the volume swelled to $140 million, the way a distant river swells when you can smell the rain you can’t yet see. Price nudged from $0.66 up to $0.67, a modest two-cent hop like a farmer testing frost with his boot. But two cents can feel like a parade when you’ve been staring at flat pennies all week. 🤠
Some whisper the midday spike is the first swallow of spring. Others mutter it’s just another tumbleweed caught on the fence. Either way, every green print is another scratch in the notebook, and the notebook is getting thick with dreams and coffee rings. If luck stays off the bottle and the warrants show up sober, maybe this thin little coin gets to ride the high plains once more. Till then, friend, keep your hat pulled low; the wind still has a sense of humor, and it ain’t always kind.
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2025-08-08 01:03