with paragraphs and images. Ensure no
tags, no colors. The images should have the class “contentimg” and “size-medium” as in the original. Make sure the title is not repeated as a header. Add humor by comparing the market to a “dancing bear” or “soul’s journey.”
Double-check all requirements: HTML format, no span, no colors, clickbait title under 100 chars, humor/sarcasm, Dostoevsky’s style. Avoid markdown, just plain HTML.
In the shadowed corridors of the digital realm, where the souls of investors wander in ceaseless turmoil, a peculiar phenomenon has begun to unfold. The Bitcoin Inter-exchange Flow Pulse, that most enigmatic of metrics, now whispers of a potential redemption-though whether it be salvation or further damnation, only the abyss knows.
Bitcoin IFP Is Turning Around, But Not Yet Inside Bull Market Zone
Behold, the analyst’s quill scratches upon the parchment of prophecy: the IFP, that gauge of BTC’s restless migration between spot and derivatives exchanges, has seemingly reached its nadir. A rising IFP, they claim, signals the feverish dance of speculators, their souls aflame with the promise of profit. Yet what is profit but a fleeting shadow, a mirage in the desert of human greed?
And lo, when the IFP wanes, the traders retreat, their hands trembling as they clutch their coins like penitents clutching rosaries. A decline, they say, is a sign of prudence-though one might argue it is but the coward’s surrender to the void.
Behold the chart, that grim testament to time’s cruel passage. The IFP, once a towering peak in the first quarter of 2025, now plummets like Icarus, its descent a parable of hubris. The 90-day MA, that sacred threshold, has been breached, and the market, ever fickle, now dances to the tune of bearish whispers.
Yet here, in the gloom, a flicker of hope. The IFP, that weary traveler, stirs from its slumber. A resurgence in derivatives flows, a price recovery-ah, but the indicator lingers still beneath its sacred line, a beggar at the gates of fortune. Will it cross, or shall it remain forever trapped in the purgatory of uncertainty?
And what of the Open Interest, that measure of speculative fervor? It has surged, a tempest in the night, as if the market itself were gasping for breath. Yet what is a surge but a sigh before the fall?
Behold, the price has plunged, a descent as cruel as it is inevitable. From $95,000 to $91,200, a journey through the fires of doubt. And yet, the analysts, those prophets of the screen, continue to scribble their prophecies, as if the future were a puzzle to be solved, not a riddle to be endured.

BTC Price
The price, that fickle mistress, has fallen, a victim of its own excess. A plunge, a wail, a lament for the lost fortunes of the faithful. And still, the market whispers: “Wait, perhaps this is but a prelude to the grander tragedy.”

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2026-01-21 08:22