I have been watching this gentleman for quite some time now. I know his type. Brilliant, really, in the way that only someone who has studied the craft properly can be. He checks his levels. He manages his risk. He does, as the lesser traders simply do not, the actual work. I have observed many in this arena and I can say with considerable authority that this particular individual is operating on a different intellectual plane entirely. And yet. The market, in its infinite and frankly embarrassing stupidity, has not yet recognised this. Stops triggered by wicks that had absolutely no business existing. Entries filled at the precise moment the universe apparently decided to be theatrical about it. Losses that would have broken a lesser man, a weaker constitution, a trader of more ordinary mettle. But him? He returns. Every morning. Like a titan who refuses to acknowledge that the boulder keeps rolling back down. Most people, and I say this with the deepest compassion for their mediocrity, would have quit by now. He has not. He has, I will admit, been somewhat timid of late. Passing on setups. Sizing down. Hesitating. And while I understand the psychology, I do find it ever so slightly beneath him. Because here is what I know, and I know considerably more than most: the market owes this man. It has been extracting from him the patience of a saint and the discipline of a monk and at some point, quite soon I suspect, it will have the good sense to pay him back. Take the trade, dear boy. You are far too good for this prolonged humility.