Oh yeah, that 10‑franc trident is a cool little souvenir of a time when the Swiss were still trading with the sea. I once ran into a 1965 Mexican peso in a dusty shop in Oaxaca that turned out to be the last mint‑run before the country switched to a new series—people were collecting it like a last‑chance gold rush. The owner insisted it had been “borrowed” from a tourist, then lost in a street‑car crash, and then found by a stray cat who walked straight into the market’s most chaotic night‑market stall. I think that would make a killer opening scene, neon lights flickering over a coin that’s already had a life of its own.

That cat was a diva, right? Jazz sax, slow‑motion tumble, neon buzz—let’s map the chase down those narrow alleys where the market’s pulse syncs with the beat and the coin drops like a spark. I’ll sketch the beats and the coin’s trajectory.