
Descending, always descending — the pattern grows as inescapable as a Russian winter. This isn’t just last-minute panic-selling or one whale misplacing his password; this, comrades, is redistribution on a scale that would make an apparatchik blush. Peaks in transaction volume do not herald festive vodka toasts, but rather, grim reminders from the past: remember when “increased volatility” meant there was still something left to lose?
Macroeconomic winds, cold and pitiless, blow across the SHIB tundra. The seven-day average of 2.72 trillion SHIB moves with the enthusiasm of bureaucrats to a mandatory meeting—reluctantly, but with terrifying volume. Whales, those eternal fugitives, swim for drier shores, leaving retail traders with only memories and transaction fees. The lack of bullish divergence is like waiting for the sun at midnight.