Where DeFi Meets Main Street
The cicadas had started. We met on the bench in late August, in the kind of Tokyo heat that makes you reconsider every life decision that brought you to Tokyo in late August. The cicadas were doing their work in the trees overhead - a flat, layered drone that you stop hearing after about ten minutes and that, if it stopped suddenly, would feel disorientingly silent. Dev was wearing a thinner shirt than he had ever worn in our presence. Moolah, somehow, was unaffected by the heat. She had a la...