I didn’t come here for revelations.

I came for steak. For roasted potatoes. For a glass of red and a quiet evening alone — the kind where the world slows down for a moment and all you need is warmth and salt and something tender.

But then…
As I lowered my fork, I saw it.

Not obvious at first. Just a strange symmetry on the plate. The way the meat curved — the potatoes placed just so — the greens sweeping outward like wings.

Three strokes.
A silent mark.

And then it hit me: XRP

I sat back. Stared. Smiled.
Was this deliberate? An accident? A message?

My heart beat just a little faster — not from caffeine or carbs — but from the unmistakable presence of something bigger. Something that didn’t belong in a dining room.
And yet… did.

Because crypto doesn’t ask for permission.
It appears.
It integrates.
It becomes.

Not in some distant metaverse, but here — in the folds of linen napkins, in the brush of garlic oil, in the unspoken design of a plate.

And I realized:

Crypto isn’t coming. It’s already here.
Crypto ubique est.

Even in the quietest corners.
Even when you're not looking.
Even — astonishingly —
on your dinner plate.