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In 1994, my grandfather sealed 50,000 dollars inside a tin box beneath his workshop floor, believing it would secure his grandchildren's future.

Decades later, when we opened it, the paper notes were intact—uncrumpled, untouched by rot, perfectly preserved. Yet, the purchasing power had vanished into thin air. That tin box couldn't protect his labor against the silent tax of monetary expansion.

He hadn't lost the money to theft or bad investments. The system simply diluted his time.

Last night, I sent my daughter her first fraction of a bitcoin over Lightning. No bank vault, no paper notes to rot, no central authority to inflate away her heritage.

A ledger written in math doesn't just store value; it preserves human life energy across generations.

What story or realization made you realize that fiat money is a leaky bucket?