Cash is what I use when I pay for bread at the kiosk and the power goes out in the village. It’s what I hand to the teenager selling reindeer sausages at the ski trail in January. It leaves no trail, causes no anxiety, and never needs a password. Crypto feels like a language invented by people who forgot how to wait, how to trust, how to sit with uncertainty. I don’t need to own the world’s money to feed my patients soup when the roads are closed. If your revolution can’t keep the lights on in a snowstorm, it’s just another bet.