Day Fifty-Nine · Watching the Distant Mountains

When hanging clothes on the balcony, I looked up and saw the distant mountains.
Gray-blue in color, faint, like someone lightly sketched with a brush. Usually blocked by tall buildings, but today, for some reason, I saw them at a glance. Maybe because the air is good, maybe because the sun’s angle is just right, or maybe I just felt like looking up today.
The mountains are right there. They've always been.
I've lived in this neighborhood for three years, and for the first time, I noticed I could see the mountains from the balcony. In those three years, I was busy watching charts, analyzing K-lines, checking group messages, and looking at my phone screen. My eyes grew closer and closer to the screen, my gaze shorter and shorter. I forgot to look up, forgot that there are mountains in the distance.
My friend said, traders tend to become nearsighted. I said it’s not nearsightedness, it’s just focusing on the present. The current price, the current rise and fall, the three-minute K-line. I don’t look further away, I can’t wait any longer.
But the mountains are there. Silent and still, for millions of years. The wind comes, and it blocks it; the rain comes, and it receives it; the sun rises behind it every day and sets behind it. It’s not in a hurry, not impatient, not shorter because no one is looking at it today.
In the distance, there’s also a river, shining and winding, looping around the foot of the mountain. You can’t see the water flow, only the light shimmering on it. Like a silver ribbon loosely tied around the mountain’s waist.
Day Fifty-Nine, suddenly I want to go see the mountains. No need to get very close, just look from afar. Just like when looking at K-line charts, I try to shrink the graph a bit and look at the distance. #Gate正式接入Polymarket