He longed to see a beautifully rounded double bottom again, to feel the high volume thrust penetrate resistance, the repeated higher highs and lower lows of a vigorous uptrend, and only after a lengthy move (if he could avoid an early exit) finally culminating in the buying climax, when he would no longer fear being stopped out as support gave way.
She longed to see that head and shoulders again. She’d dabbled with a fundamentalist or two but always felt the allure of the graphic. Andrews’ unforgettable pitchfork, the way Fibonacci restrained her moves, Elliott trying to time going all in by counting her waves. Candlesticks engulfed her, she longed for that right shoulder, the move below the neckline, that emotional free fall, the selling climax bouncing off the floor before the aftershocks of a completed exhaustion move.
She never understood why he was so interested in cheap sentiments. He never understood why she loved bad breadth.