All Time Hopium $ATH
A small green plush stands on a hill. He is carrying a backpack full of capsules and a sense of unwarranted optimism. The sky has spelled his ticker in clouds. He believes this is a sign. It is not. He sets out anyway.
One torch. One green pill. One direction.
He picks up a small green torch. It is also a capsule. It is also probably medicine. He does not stop to clarify. The city is over there. He has heard rumours that the city is also a chart. He chooses to believe both.
Distance to Pump City: two valleys, one meaningful sunset. Estimated arrival: when the candle is green. Estimated cope deployment: continuous.
Hopium, by airmail.
He has begun to fold paper aeroplanes. Each one is stamped with a green capsule. He launches them toward the city. Some land on roofs. Some land in fountains. Some fly back. He calls those the limit orders.
New strategy: keep folding, keep launching, never check the chart. The chart, he has discovered, is mostly weather. The weather, he has discovered, is mostly his own breathing.
The city glows. The plush stays.
Pump City is here. It is loud. It is green in places that should not be green. The capsule is in the sky. The chart is also in the sky. They appear to be the same object.
He does not enter the city. He plants a small flag at the edge and sits down. Tomorrow he will set out again. The trail starts here. The trail also ends here. Both statements are filed and stamped.
Pick a sign. Walk that way.
Four wooden trail-signs. They all point at the same thing. They all point up.