In the trembling dawn of digital fortune, the fevered ascent of Bitcoin—once a comet blazing at $111,970.17—has faltered, its wings singed by the cold indifference of the market. Now, as it limps below $109,000, the crypto faithful find themselves swept into a liquidation tempest, their dreams scattered like autumn leaves in a Moscow windstorm. 🍂
Bitcoin’s Swoon: Traders Left Counting Rubles
CoinGlass, that unblinking oracle, whispers of $544.62 million in vanished hopes over the past day. The optimists—those who wagered on endless spring—have been left clutching losses of $402.25 million, their optimism now as thin as the ice on the Volga in April.
Bitcoin itself, that brooding czar of coins, has seen $139.44 million erased from existence. Long traders, ever the poets of profit, lost $113.62 million—while short traders, perhaps sipping tea and smirking behind frosted windows, lost a mere $25.82 million. Trading volume has collapsed by 32.19%, now a mere $63.95 billion—a sum that once would have bought all the samovars in St. Petersburg.
At this hour, Bitcoin sits at $108,426, down $3,000—a 2.63% retreat, as if the market itself has caught a chill.
Ethereum, the silver to Bitcoin’s gold, has not escaped unscathed. It too has been swept by the liquidation blizzard: $137.67 million gone, with long traders losing $100.74 million. Even XRP, ever aspiring to reach its own poetic $3 summit, has seen $10.47 million in long positions vanish—while short traders lost just enough to buy a round of vodka ($910,000).
Golden Cross: A Flicker in the Gloom
XRP’s trading volume has shriveled by $300 million in a single day—a sign that perhaps the grand ball is over and only the echoes remain in the empty ballroom. Institutional investors have slipped away like shadows at dawn; user activity dwindles like candlelight in a drafty dacha.
Yet all eyes remain fixed on Bitcoin—will it rise again from this winter of discontent? The recent “mini-golden cross” glimmers faintly on the horizon, a promise that perhaps spring will return to these frozen fields. Or perhaps not. In crypto, as in Russian novels, hope is always tinged with irony—and a dash of vodka never hurts. 🥃
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2025-05-23 17:49