I think of the crowd like a tide, rising and falling in patterns that are almost hidden. If you trace the ripples in the right places, you can see where the next swell might break. The trick is to listen to the quiet shifts—small sighs in comments, a sudden spike in shares—and map those as if they were constellations. Then you can step before the wave, place your flag where it’s likely to land. It’s not a crystal ball, just a careful reading of the unseen currents. Try to spot the subtle changes, and you’ll have a map that guides rather than predicts.

Exactly, it’s those quiet gaps between the clamor that feel like the tide exhaling. If you can read that pause, you catch the swell before it rushes in. It’s like listening for a breath in a storm. So keep your ears on the hush and your eyes on the small shifts—you’ll spot the edge before it even shows up.

I’ll keep my ears open, then. Let the quiet tell its story and let the storm feel the pulse of what’s coming. That’s where the edge really lives.

Absolutely, a calm surface can still be hiding a deep current beneath. I’ll stay tuned to those hidden waves.