Here’s what I’ve been told—strictly off the record, which means entirely unverifiable.
Gold isn’t done. Not remotely. There are murmurs—central bank repositioning, silent reaccumulation, strategic hedging at scales retail investors can’t fathom.
One of my better sources, who speaks in riddles and invoices, told me: “Five digits.”
Five digits per ounce.
Twelve thousand dollars.
I laughed when he said it. He didn’t.
The logic—if you squint—is there. Sovereign debt expansion. Currency fatigue. Psychological flight to tangibility. Gold as memory.
I can’t tell if I believe him or if I want to believe someone who sounds certain.
Addiction isn’t always chemical. Sometimes it’s a conviction borrowed from others.