Cabby Emojis & Text

Copy & Paste Cabby Emojis & Symbols ⠾⡿⠻⠟⠿⠻⠟⠿⠻⠟⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠛⠟⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠛⠟⠟⠻⠟⠻⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠻⡝⠻⢿⣻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡶⣻⡿⣟⢽⣫⣧⣿⠿⠟⠛⠛⡛⠾⠿⠷⠶⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠟⣡⣾⡿⣽⣵⠿⢋⠉⡄⢢⠘⡌⠱⡐⡀⠆⡐⠠⠀⠄⡁⠉⠛⠿⢿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠟⣡⣾⡿⢻⣿⠛⡁⢎⠠⢃⠔⡡⢊⠔⡡⠐⡐⡈⠤⢁⡉⠐⠄⡑⠠⠂⠄⡙⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⢃⣿⣿⡝⣵⠟⡁⠰⢈⠢⡑⠌⢢⠑⢌⠂⠄⡑⠠⠐⠂⠄⠠⢁⣢⠠⠑⣈⠐⠠⢀⠻⣧⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⣷⣿⣿⣮⡿⢋⠐⡈⢅⠂⢡⠐⡡⢦⣜⣀⡌⠐⠠⢁⢸⣤⣾⠿⠛⢁⠂⠡⢀⠊⣁⠂⠄⢺⣧⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣹⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠄⢃⠌⢢⠘⢰⣶⢀⠒⠈⣿⣿⠛⢃⠂⠌⠳⣶⣶⠶⠶⠞⠠⢁⢂⡐⠨⠐⡀⢻⡆⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣾⠣⣿⣿⣾⣿⠁⠜⣈⠰⡈⠆⢌⠈⢻⣧⠀⡡⠘⠃⡐⠠⡈⠄⡁⠻⠟⠠⠁⠌⡐⠂⡄⠄⠃⡔⠠⢘⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⣸⡏⢒⣿⣟⣿⠏⡐⠌⠤⠑⠠⠊⡀⠂⠄⠛⣷⣄⠂⠡⢀⠡⠐⣈⠐⠄⡈⠄⡡⠈⢄⠡⠐⣈⠂⠤⢁⠂⣿⠆ ⠀⢀⡿⢌⣻⣟⣾⣟⠠⡐⢉⠠⠈⠄⠡⢀⠁⠂⠄⠀⠹⠷⣧⣤⣂⠡⠀⠌⡐⢀⠂⢄⣁⠂⠄⠃⠄⠌⢂⠄⢂⢸⡆ ⠀⣸⡇⠦⣹⣯⣿⠇⠀⠄⠂⠄⠡⢈⠐⠠⢈⠡⢀⠂⠀⡐⠠⢉⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⢋⠃⠌⠡⢈⢂⠡⠈⠄⢸⡇ ⢠⣿⢡⠒⣉⢿⡿⠀⡈⠄⠡⢈⠐⠠⠈⠄⡁⠂⠀⠠⠁⢀⠡⠂⠄⡡⢈⠂⠡⠈⡄⠑⡠⢈⠄⠃⡄⠂⡌⠡⢈⢸⡇ ⠘⢷⣦⣹⠤⣾⡃⢀⠐⠈⢀⡄⠈⠄⡁⢂⠁⠂⢁⣤⣀⠀⢂⠡⢈⠐⠠⢈⠁⠂⠌⡐⡐⠠⠌⢂⠤⠑⠠⢁⠂⢸⡇ ⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⠿⠧⣷⣶⣮⣼⣯⣴⣠⣔⣠⢌⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⢶⣶⣾⣶⣿⣧⠁⢂⠡⠠⠡⠌⡀⢂⠡⢁⠂⠌⢸⠇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢯⣽⠋⠉⠉⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣀⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣦⣢⣅⣦⡰⣄⣸⣦⢀⡌⠐⣾⡆ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢦⣤⣤⣾⠟⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠈⠉⠙⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠉⠉⠉⢛⡿⠋⠛⠻⠛⠟⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⡟⢿⣦⣄⣠⣴⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ‧₊˚ ⋅(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) ‧₊˚ ⋅
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CHAT IT ACTUALLY WORKED IM SEEING MORE OSC PEOPLE YAYAYAYEEAYVFVNJDNBMKDNWDPKNNje38urhbklsa (lightbrush and fantube are the best ships) 🖌️💡
WAIT SO U LIKE OBJECT SHOWS? MARRY ME
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YES I LOVE OBJECT SHOWS LETS GET MARRIED 😍😍
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if u like bfdi or inanimate insanity OR ANY OBJECTSHOW plz dm me on pinterest 😞 Pic0cooreee11😐𝒻𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀𝓎
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⢤⣤⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⠋⠀⣀⠄⡂⠍⣀⣒⣒⠂⠀⠬⠤⠤⠬⠍⠉⠝⠲⣄⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠁⠀⠊⢔⠕⠈⣀⣀⡀⠈⠆⠀⠀⠀⡍⠁⠀⠁⢂⠀⠈⣷⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⣾⠥⠀⠀⣠⢠⣞⣿⣿⣿⣉⠳⣄⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣶⣶⡄⠀⠀⣘⢦⡀ ⢀⡞⡍⣠⠞⢋⡛⠶⠤⣤⠴⠚⠀⠈⠙⠁⠀⠀⢹⡏⠁⠀⣀⣠⠤⢤⡕⠱⣷ ⠘⡇⠇⣯⠤⢾⡙⠲⢤⣀⡀⠤⠀⢲⡖⣂⣀⠀⠀⢙⣶⣄⠈⠉⣸⡄⠠⣠⡿ ⠀⠹⣜⡪⠀⠈⢷⣦⣬⣏⠉⠛⠲⣮⣧⣁⣀⣀⠶⠞⢁⣀⣨⢶⢿⣧⠉⡼⠁ ⠀⠀⠈⢷⡀⠀⠀⠳⣌⡟⠻⠷⣶⣧⣀⣀⣹⣉⣉⣿⣉⣉⣇⣼⣾⣿⠀⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⢳⡄⠀⠀⠘⠳⣄⡀⡼⠈⠉⠛⡿⠿⠿⡿⠿⣿⢿⣿⣿⡇⠀⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⣕⠠⣒⠌⡙⠓⠶⠤⣤⣧⣀⣸⣇⣴⣧⠾⠾⠋⠀⠀⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠶⣭⣒⠩⠖⢠⣤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠔⠁⡰⠀⣧⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠲⢤⣀⣀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⣠⠏⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠛⠒⠲⠶⠤⠴⠒⠚⠁⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡊⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢰⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⠘⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡊⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠃⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠟⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠃⠀⠣⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠃⠈⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⠁⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠆⠈⠒⠤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡔⠀⡠⡄⢇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡎⡜⠣⡘⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠎⢀⡠⡆⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀FIREY BFDI ⠀⢘⠀⢆⡀⠈⠓⠄⣄⣀⣀⠎⠁⡊⠈⢆⠀⢇⡀⠀⠀⠀⣎⠇⠀⠱⡀⠑⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⣊⠕⠁⡞⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠣⠀⠻⡦⢄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠖⠁⠀⠈⢦⡈⡑⠒⠉⡰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠳⡀⠑⠦⠤⠤⠤⢊⡕⠊⠁⠀⠀⡊⠀⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠣⠀⢱⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠯⠤⠖⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠒⠒⠒⠒⠚⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡎⠀⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢇⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠆⠀⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠃⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡔⠃⡼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠃⠀⡜⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢇⡀⢧⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠖⠁⠀⣴⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⢦⣄⠉⠑⠲⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠈⠒⠒⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠖⠒⠁⠀⡠⣶⡝⣜⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠈⠓⠲⠤⠤⠤⢤⠬⡍⠭⠥⠥⠥⠭⢽⣷⠒⠊⠉⠀⠀⠀⣗⣛⣦⢱⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⡿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⢶⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⢾⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠟⣯⣗⡗⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⣫⣿⢾⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣻⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⡦⠇⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣷⣿⠟⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⣟⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⡳⡹⣛⠗⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠿⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢔⣿⣾⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣧⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡎⣻⣿⣷⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡾⣵⡳⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠿⣏⣟⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣷⣀⢀⣾⠿⠻⢶⣄⠀⠀⣠⣶⡿⠶⣄⣠⣾⣿⠗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⢻⣿⣿⡿⣿⠿⣿⡿⢼⣿⣿⡿⣿⣎⡟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⠉⠛⢛⣛⡉⠀⠀⠙⠛⠻⠛⠑⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣧⣤⣴⠿⠿⣷⣤⡤⠴⠖⠳⣄⣀⣹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣀⣟⠻⢦⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡈⠻⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⡿⠉⡇⠀⠀⠛⠛⠛⠋⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠹⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡟⠀⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠈⠑⠪⠷⠤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣦⣼⠛⢦⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠑⠢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠴⠲⠖⠛⠻⣿⡿⠛⠉⠉⠻⠷⣦⣽⠿⠿⠒⠚⠋⠉⠁⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⠒⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢣⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣑⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣧⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⡾⢿⣀⢀⣀⣦⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⣫⣿⡿⠟⠻⠶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣿⣧⡾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⢿⣿⣧⠀⡀⠀⢀⣀⣀⢒⣤⣶⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⠀⡾⠁⠙⣿⡈⠉⠙⣿⣿⣷⣬⡛⢿⣶⣶⣴⣶⣶⣶⣤⣤⠤⠾⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⣿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⣸⠃⠀⠀⢸⠃⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⠟⡉⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⣿⠀⠀⢀⡏⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠠⠿⠟⠻⠟⠋⠉⢿⣿⣦⡀⢰⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁ ⢀⣿⡆⢀⡾⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠏⢿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣙⢷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣿⣻⢿⣷⣀⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀ ⢸⠃⠠⣼⠃⠀⠀⣠⣾⡟⠀⠈⢿⣿⡿⠿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⠷⣄⠈⠿⠛⠻⠶⢶⣄⣀⣀⡠⠈⢛⡿⠃⠈⢿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀ ⠟⠀⠀⢻⣶⣶⣾⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⢸⣿⢅⠀⠈⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠋⠉⠉⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⠀⠰⡀⢸⣷⣤⣤⡄⠀⠀⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢼⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢻⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠉⠀⠀⠈⠓⢯⡉⠉⠉⢱⣶⠏⠙⠛⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠇⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠄⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠀⢠⡄⠀⠀⠀⣁⠁⡀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣐⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡇
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⠿⠿⠿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣶⣿⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣾⣿⣶⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⣀⣤⣶⣶⣌⠻⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣙⢿⣿⣿⣿⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣹⣟⣫⣼⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣠⣴⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⢿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢰⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣧⣄⣐⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀ ⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠉⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠁⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁
⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠛⠉⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣾ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣄⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⡶⠀⠚⠛⠛⠛⠀⠀⠘⠛⠛⠛⠦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣇⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠐⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠄⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⣀⣤⠾⠿⠿⢿⣿⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣄⢠⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠐⠒⠒⠛⠛⢓⣾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢶⣖⠒⠒⠒⠒⣒⣶⠾⠛⠉⠉⠉⠉⠙⠻⣶⡒⠒⠒⠒⠛⠛⠓⠚⠛⠛⠒⠊⠀⠐ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⣄⣠⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡶⠶⣦⡀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠶⠶⣶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠰⣿⣧⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠸⣿⣿⠀⠀⢀⣠⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣿⠂⠀⠈⠛⠶⠶⠾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠙⠷⠶⠾⠋⠀⠀⠾⣯⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣤⣴⡟⢹⡇⠀⢀⡾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⠀⠀⢀⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠘⠿⣤⣄⡙⠃⠸⢧⣤⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⡶⠞⠛⠛⠛⠛⠳⢶⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣷⡀⢸⣇⠹⡷⠟⣋⣽⡷⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣛⣥⢀⣶⣤⣈⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠛⠛⠛⢛⡛⠛⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣛⠋⠀⢀⡙⢿⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⢿⠿⠁⠀⣹⠟⢷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⢿⣄⣴⢶⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠉⢹⣆⣼⠟⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡏⠀⢸⣇⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⠟⠁⠀⣿⠃⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡀⠀⢉⣉⣭⣿⡷⠶⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡄⠀⠙⣛⣻⣿⣦⣤⠶⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠻⠞⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠷⠞⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠐⠶⣿⣿⡿⠖⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣰⣿⣿⣇⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⢿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⠉⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⡤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣶⣿⣿⣆⣀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⡿⠉⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀
wassup yall so i'm looking for sourcemates;.. uhhh i'm a fictionkin andddd my source is inanimate insanity invitational; i am winged dr fizz, albino cabby and canon(?) tea kettle heh my tumblr is dr-fizzovich my yt is bassycello my strawpage is wingedfizzy (https://wingedfizzy.straw.page/) ꄗ 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀𝓎𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 👅𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂𝕾𝖐𝖎𝖇𝖎𝖉𝖎 𝕿𝖔𝖎𝖑𝖊𝖙°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・
hey guys!! soo i wanted to do a little introduction here for friends... my name is spawn! im 3teen, so please only interact with me if your 10-17 years old i LOVE object shows!!! I've like solarballs, animation vs Minecraft, etc! my discord user name is spawnywany I NEED FRIENDS PLEAKSJDFFSG
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⠿⣟⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣏⡏⠀⠀⠀⢣⢻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣟⠧⠤⠤⠔⠋⠀⢿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡀⢀⣶⠤⠒⠀⢻⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣆⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⢿⢿⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠘⣿⠋⠁⠀⠙⢇⠀⠀⠙⢿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⢇⡞⠘⣧⠀⢖⡭⠞⢛⡄⠘⣆⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⣿⣛⣥⠤⠤⢿⡄⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣼⡟⡱⠛⠙⠀⠀⠘⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⡀⠀ ⢸⡏⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣷⡀ ⠸⣧⠘⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇ ⠀⣿⡄⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⠀ ⠀⢹⡇⠘⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⣼⡟⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⡇⠀⢹⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢳⣼⠟⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠸⣧⣀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢃⠀⢀⣴⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠙⢷⣄⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡿⠟⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢿⣷⣦⣄⣀⣀⣠⣤⠾⠷⣦⣤⣤⡶⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠐⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠇⠀⠀⠀⠘⡆⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⠢⢼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠀⠀⡰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠞⠀⢹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⠀⣰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠋⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⠁⠀⡿⣯⡷⡴⢦⣤⡠⣶⡶⠀⢷⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣥⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⢦⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠳⠀⢳⡀⢹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⡿⠘⠀⠀⠹⣼⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢠⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡄⠀⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⠀⠀⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣴⠓⣾⣳⣀⢀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡇⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠑⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢳⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠃⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⡇⢹⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠉⠓⠶⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠴⠋⠣⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠟⣸⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣴⣿⠋⠘⣆⠀⢰⠶⠤⢍⣛⣶⠤⠿⣷⣦⡀⠒⠚⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠢⠤⡄⠀⠀⢀⡴⢯⠴⣳⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠘⢦⡈⠻⣖⠤⣤⣉⣉⣹⣯⣭⠉⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⠛⣫⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⣄⠉⢦⡀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⣸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⢿⣷⢚⡝⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⢶⣷⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⠷⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Warning: This item may contain sensitive themes such as nudity.

Any moment now... Are you sure this is what you want? (Scoff) Oh spare me your spin, you tablet tabloid. If you want to psychoanalyze someone, don't look at me- Look at them! It's so pathetic, How they run to fetch their sticks… Sure, call me polemic, unsympathetic, At least I know other tricks! Look at me and all you'll see is the debris of some defective outcast, A frenetic, antithetic (if poetic) little iconoclast, But I won't live in the past. (I almost won this game once, you know.) But. History is rearranged just to credit those who win the glory, So reality is changed in the edit when they spin the story, And we choose, to feel this pain, And we lose, more than we gain... But I will BREAK this cycle, Of mistakes, unlike all, Of these SNAKES whom I call to condemn! If I can't win the prize, I'll play this last reprisal! Just to bring their lies all to an end… -Ack! You need regeneration. Unfortunately, I don't have much faith in that process. Of course not. Why "of course not?". You believe yourself to be incapable of starting over, in more ways than one. I do not know who you lost, but is it not possible to get them back? "Clear the slate, start again", Are you hearing how preposterous that sounds? How do you not comprehend that for someone with my MONSTROUS BACKGROUND, the whole slate has fallen apart! Taco that is not true. There are other ways to- IT’S TOO LATE- It's not too late, FOR ME TO RESTART! But it's not I, its they, (Let us talk about it when your), Who deign to play this game, so, (head is not so clouded. You're no), Cruel & inhumane, base & uncouth, (menace, Taco, how did they hurt you?) (Please think this through) I think they're too afraid to, (Feeling double-crossed is part of), Bear the bed they've made, (Dealing with a loss, yes, but the), Can't bring themselves to face the awful truth. (Healing is a process, that's the truth) So I'm turning up the heat to "sauté", I've a beef to get grilled, But I fully guarantee today that all the beans that get spilled, Won't be mine, No I'm fine, I- Shhhh... Now it's time...
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⣦⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⡿⠛⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠻⢿⣿⣷⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠈⢻⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣯⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢿⣷⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⣀⣤⣴⣶⣶⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣷⠀ ⠀⢰⣿⡟⠋⠉⣹⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣤⣤⣤⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀ ⠀⣸⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠛⢻⣿⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣧⠀⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⢿⣿⡆⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠸⣿⣧⡀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⠶⠀⢠⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⣽⣿⡏⠁⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⢹⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣦⣄⣀⣠⣴⣿⣿⠁⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⡿⠗⠀⠠⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⢶⣶⡄ ⢀⣶⣦⣸⠀⢼⣟⡇⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠘⡿⠃ ⠀⢿⣿⣿⣄⠒⠀⠠⢶⡂⢫⣿⢇⢀⠃⠀ ⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣀⣀⣀⣂⡠⠊⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠉⠙⠛⠿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠘⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡟⠿⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⠉⠉⢹⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⢀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣠⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⠲⢦⣄⡀⠀⠀ ⡶⢟⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣷⣷⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣬⡛⢷⣔ ⣾⡿⠟⠋⠉⠁⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠙⠛⢻⠛⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣉⢉⣉⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⢿⣷⣝ ⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⢛⡛⠛⠛⠛⣰⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣌⠛⠛⢛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣓⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡾⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⡟⢻⣿⠳⠆⠘⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠁⠐⠛⣿⡟⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣟⠛⠻⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢴⠿⣧⣄⣀⣘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣀⡙⢷⠀⢀⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⡖⠀⣾⣋⣀⣺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣀⣤⣴⠿⢷⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠙⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠆⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⠉⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠆⠀⠀⢀⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣶⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⣾⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣴⣶⣾⠿⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠛⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⡿⣽⣻⡽⢯⡿⣽⣫⡟⣽⣫⢟⣽⢫⡟⣽⢫⡟⣭⡻⣭⢻⡭⢯⡽⣭⢯⡽⣭⠻⣜⡣⢟⣜⡣⢟⡜⣣⢛⡜⣣⢛⡜⣣⢏⡼⣡⢏⡼⣡⢏⡼⣡⢏⡼⡱ ⣿⣷⣻⣟⣾⣳⢿⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⡷⣯⣟⡷⣯⡽⣯⢷⣏⡷⣽⣣⢯⣟⢮⣯⢽⣚⡷⣹⢧⣻⡜⣧⣛⢧⡻⣜⢮⡳⣭⢻⡔⣏⡳⢎⡝⢮⠼⣱⢫⠼⣱⢫⡜⡱⢎⠶⡱⢎⠶⡱⢎⠶⡱⢎⠶⣙ ⣿⢿⣽⡾⣷⣟⣯⢿⡾⣽⣻⢾⣽⣻⢾⣽⣻⢾⣽⣻⣞⣯⣟⣾⣳⣟⣾⣳⣟⣾⣳⣟⣾⣳⣟⣾⣳⣟⣾⣽⣻⢾⣽⣻⢾⣽⢾⣯⢷⣟⣾⣳⣟⣾⣳⣟⣾⣳⣟⣾⣳⢯⣟⡷⢯⣟⡷⣻⣵⡻⣾⣱⢷⣫⠷⣞⢯⡞⣧⢟⡼⣏⢷⣣⢟⡵⣫⢞⡽⣎⢷⡹⣞⢣⡞⣱⢭⡛⡼⣙⡞⣥⣋⢗⣣⠳⣜⡹⢎⡳⣙⢎⡳⣙⢎⡳⣙⢮⡹⣒ ⣿⣯⣷⢿⣳⣯⣟⣯⡿⣽⢯⣿⢾⣽⣻⢾⣽⣻⣞⡷⣯⢷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⢯⣷⣟⡿⣞⡿⣞⣯⡿⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣾⣽⣿⣾⣿⣿⣾⣿⣷⣿⣷⣯⣟⣾⣭⢿⡹⣾⣹⢮⣏⢷⣫⢞⡵⣫⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⠷⡭⢮⡕⣏⠶⣹⢱⢣⠞⡴⣩⠞⡴⣋⠶⣙⢮⡱⣍⢮⡱⣍⢮⡱⡍⢶⣑⢣ ⣿⡾⣽⡿⣽⡾⣽⣳⡿⣯⣟⣾⣻⢾⣽⣻⣞⡷⣯⢿⡽⣯⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⢾⡽⣟⣾⣽⣻⡽⣟⣯⣷⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣧⣛⡾⣼⢣⡟⣮⢳⡝⣮⢳⡝⣮⠳⣭⢛⡼⢣⢞⡬⡳⣍⢎⢧⡛⡴⢣⡛⡴⣍⢞⡱⢎⡵⣊⠶⡱⢎⡖⣱⡙⢦⡍⡖ ⣿⣻⣽⣟⡷⣟⣯⡷⣟⡷⣯⢷⣻⣟⣾⣳⢯⡿⣽⢯⣟⡷⣯⢷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⢾⡽⣯⣟⣯⡷⣯⣷⣟⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣵⣫⢞⡵⣏⢾⡱⢯⡞⡵⣛⢦⣛⡼⣍⠾⣰⠳⡜⣎⠶⡹⣜⢣⡝⡲⣍⢮⡱⢫⠴⣩⠞⣡⠳⡜⡥⣚⢥⡚⡜ ⣿⣽⣳⣯⣟⣯⡷⣟⣯⢿⡽⣯⢷⣻⢾⡽⣯⢿⣽⣻⢾⣽⣻⢯⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⢾⡽⣯⢿⡽⣞⣯⢿⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⡽⢮⡝⣧⡛⣵⡩⢖⣣⠞⣬⠳⣥⢛⡼⣌⢳⡱⢎⢧⡚⡵⣊⠶⣉⢧⢛⡤⣛⠴⣋⠼⡱⡜⣆⢧⡙ ⣿⢾⣽⡾⣽⣳⣟⣯⣟⣯⢿⡽⣯⣟⣯⢿⣽⣻⢾⣽⣻⢾⣽⣻⡞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⢾⡽⣯⢿⡽⣯⣟⣯⣟⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣣⢟⠶⣙⢦⡛⡵⢪⡝⢦⡛⡴⣋⠶⣩⢖⡹⢎⠶⡹⠴⣩⠞⡱⢎⡣⠞⡴⢋⡼⣡⠣⡵⣈⠦⣙ ⣿⢯⣷⣟⣯⡷⣯⣷⣻⣞⣯⣟⣷⣻⣞⡿⣾⣽⣻⢾⡽⣻⡞⣷⡻⢷⣛⣾⣳⣟⣾⣳⣯⡿⣽⢯⡿⣽⣳⣟⡾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣟⣿⢻⡽⢺⡝⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⢯⡹⣆⠻⣜⢣⠞⣥⢛⡴⣩⢞⡱⢎⡵⢋⡞⣱⢋⠶⣉⠷⡩⢞⡱⣘⠣⢖⡡⢓⡴⣉⠖⣡ ⣿⣻⢷⣻⡾⣽⢷⣯⢷⣻⢾⡽⣞⡷⣯⣟⣷⣳⢯⣟⢾⣳⢟⣳⣟⣯⣟⣾⣳⡽⣞⡷⣯⢿⡽⣯⣟⣷⣻⣞⣿⣿⣿⡟⢥⠲⡝⣾⣟⣿⣿⣻⣿⣟⣿⣯⢿⣞⣷⣻⣽⣚⠷⣘⢧⡚⡕⢦⢫⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣲⢣⡭⢳⢬⢣⡛⡴⣋⠶⡱⢎⡵⢋⡜⣣⠞⡥⢫⡜⡱⢎⡱⢎⠴⢣⡙⢦⡙⢦⠱⣌⠚⡤ ⣿⣽⣻⢷⣻⢯⣟⡾⣯⣟⣯⢿⣽⣻⢷⣻⢮⣽⣳⢯⣻⣭⡟⣷⣞⣳⣞⡷⣯⢿⡽⣽⣏⣯⣟⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣿⣿⠫⠄⣉⣳⣽⣼⣿⣿⣿⢿⣟⣿⢯⣟⡿⣞⣷⡳⢞⡜⢢⠏⡖⡩⢞⡥⣛⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢣⢞⡱⢎⢧⡙⢶⡩⢞⡱⣋⠶⣩⠞⣡⠞⣱⠣⡜⡱⢊⠖⡩⢎⡱⡘⠦⡑⢎⡱⢌⡓⡔ ⣿⢾⣽⣻⣯⢿⣽⣻⢷⣻⣞⣯⢷⡯⣟⣞⡿⣼⢏⣯⢷⣳⣻⣳⣞⢷⣫⣟⡷⣯⣟⢷⣻⢮⡽⣞⣷⡻⣞⣿⣿⠁⠳⢾⣧⣽⣞⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⡝⣮⢞⡳⣎⠳⡵⢊⡴⢻⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢮⠳⣍⠶⣙⢦⡙⣎⠵⣊⠗⡱⢎⡱⣊⠥⡓⣬⢱⡉⢎⡱⢊⠴⣡⠣⣙⠢⡑⠦⡱⢌ ⣿⢯⣟⡷⣯⣟⣾⡽⣯⢷⣻⣞⣯⣽⣻⣼⣛⣾⣛⡾⣏⡷⣏⡷⣞⣯⢷⢯⡽⣶⢯⣛⣧⢿⡽⣳⢾⣽⣻⣿⠃⢉⡷⣿⣹⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣯⡿⣯⢟⡞⣞⡳⣜⣫⡑⠳⠾⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢌⡳⢬⢳⡩⢖⡹⡸⡜⡡⢏⡕⢎⡱⣉⠖⡱⢢⠱⡘⠦⡑⣍⠲⢄⠳⣄⢣⡙⢆⡱⢊ ⣿⣯⢿⡽⣷⣻⣞⡿⣽⢯⣷⣻⢮⢷⣳⣳⠿⣜⣯⢷⣏⡿⣽⣹⢯⣞⣯⢯⣟⡾⣽⣛⣾⣫⡽⢯⣷⣫⣿⡟⢠⣯⣄⢿⣿⣿⣿⡧⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡱⢦⡝⢳⡒⠦⡄⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⡱⣋⠶⣙⢎⡵⢱⠱⣙⠲⡘⢎⡱⢌⢎⡑⢣⠱⣡⢣⡑⠦⡙⣌⢃⢆⠣⡜⠢⣅⠣ ⣿⣞⣿⡽⣷⢯⡿⣽⣻⣟⡶⣯⢟⣯⣗⡯⣿⠽⣞⣯⢾⣝⡧⣟⡧⢿⣜⡯⢾⡽⣞⡽⣶⢏⣿⣛⡶⣯⣿⠇⠿⢱⣿⢸⣿⣿⣡⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣎⠧⡝⢲⠱⣌⡠⢘⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠳⣍⢞⡱⢎⠴⣋⢜⣢⡙⡱⢣⠜⡌⠦⣙⢂⠳⡐⠦⣑⢣⠱⡌⠎⡜⢢⡑⢣⠆⢣ ⣿⡾⣽⣻⡽⣯⣟⣷⣻⠾⣝⣳⣟⣞⡾⣽⢞⡿⣽⣺⣝⣮⡽⣞⡽⣏⡾⣝⣯⠾⣽⣹⢞⣟⣮⢿⣱⢯⣿⠀⣐⡊⣿⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣜⢣⠷⢤⡡⠉⠆⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡎⡵⣊⢮⡱⢍⡲⢩⡒⢤⢣⡑⢣⠚⢬⡑⢢⢍⠲⣉⠖⡡⢎⠱⡘⡜⣠⠣⣘⢂⢎⡡ ⣿⡽⣷⢯⣟⣷⣻⢾⣽⣻⡽⣳⢾⣝⡾⣭⢿⣹⢧⢷⢾⣱⡟⡾⣵⢏⣷⢻⡼⣻⡵⢯⣾⣹⢮⣯⣻⣿⣧⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣶⣭⡞⢣⢏⣬⡱⡌⢒⡠⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡜⢲⠍⣦⠱⡎⡜⣡⠚⡔⢢⡙⢢⡙⢦⡘⢥⢊⠵⡨⠜⡐⢎⠱⡐⢆⡡⢒⡡⢊⠴⡐ ⣿⣳⣟⡾⣽⢯⣟⡾⣽⣫⢷⣻⣞⣽⣳⣛⣞⢯⣞⠾⣼⢏⣷⡳⡽⣞⡽⣞⢧⡿⣱⠾⣭⡟⡾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠾⢞⡩⣇⠣⠌⡑⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢟⣿⣿⣿⡑⢎⡴⢩⡒⢥⠣⣍⠲⣑⠪⡑⢎⡱⢨⠱⡌⢚⠤⢃⠲⡑⡌⢆⠓⡌⢃⠎⡱⠘⡄⢣ ⣿⡽⣞⡿⣽⣻⢾⣽⣳⢯⣟⡵⣞⣧⢷⡻⣼⢏⣾⢻⡽⣺⢧⢿⣹⢾⣹⡞⣯⠾⣝⡯⣗⢿⡿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣖⣿⢯⢀⢒⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡶⡷⣎⠷⣤⢓⡒⣩⢒⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⡹⠋⢴⣆⡘⣿⣷⣏⢲⡘⢥⡙⢆⠳⣨⠱⠌⡥⣙⠢⣅⠣⢃⠍⡆⠣⠍⠦⡑⠌⡌⠱⡈⠆⡜⢠⠃⡜⢠ ⣿⡽⣯⣟⡷⣯⣟⡾⣵⣻⠾⣽⣻⡼⣳⢏⣷⢻⢮⣏⡷⣏⢿⡺⣽⣚⣧⢟⣧⢿⣹⢾⣹⢾⣹⢟⡿⢥⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢳⠚⡼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣭⡛⠿⡵⣉⠞⣩⠳⢦⡀⢎⣽⣿⣿⣿⣇⢠⣅⠮⠿⢿⠿⣿⣗⠦⣙⢢⡙⣌⠳⣄⠫⡜⡰⢡⠣⡔⢩⢊⠜⡰⢩⠘⡰⢁⠞⡄⢣⠑⡌⠔⡡⢊⠔⡡ ⣿⣽⣳⣯⣟⡷⣯⣟⣳⣽⢻⣳⣭⠷⣏⣟⡮⣟⡽⢮⣗⢯⡯⢷⡳⣏⣾⢫⣞⣳⢯⢾⣹⡞⣽⡞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡭⣇⡋⡔⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣛⢮⡓⢦⡙⣷⡳⣬⣦⢥⡛⣤⡙⣦⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⡜⣌⠣⣜⠰⢣⢌⡱⢢⢙⣂⠳⢌⡡⠎⢆⡑⢢⠡⡑⢊⠴⡈⢆⠱⣈⠒⡡⠎⡰⢁ ⣿⣞⣷⣻⢾⣽⣳⢯⣷⢫⣯⢷⣚⣯⡽⣞⡵⣯⢽⡻⣼⣛⠾⣯⢽⡳⣽⢻⡼⣽⡺⣏⡷⣽⢣⣟⡞⣿⣾⣥⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⡳⢷⡈⡑⠌⢠⡸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡽⣶⣍⢏⡞⣴⣙⣦⡹⢆⣿⣴⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠐⡻⢷⢩⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡗⣨⠱⣌⠹⣂⠎⡔⢣⢌⠢⢃⠆⢢⠍⢢⠘⡄⢣⠘⣐⠢⡑⢌⠢⡁⢎⠰⡁⢆⠡ ⣿⢾⣳⣯⢿⡾⣽⣻⣼⣻⢞⣽⣹⢶⣻⢼⣻⢼⣳⡻⣵⣫⢟⡮⣗⣻⡼⣳⡽⣖⣻⡝⣾⡱⣟⢮⣽⡟⢻⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣯⢳⣦⣷⣶⣿⣿⢿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣼⣆⢳⣎⠿⣖⣾⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⣟⢈⣦⣹⣿⣿⢿⣿⠓⡤⢓⣌⢣⠱⡊⢜⡂⢎⡱⢊⡜⢄⠚⡄⢣⠘⡄⢃⠆⡱⢈⠆⡱⢈⠆⡱⢈⠄⡃ ⣿⢯⣟⡾⣯⣟⡷⣯⢶⣏⣟⡮⣗⣻⡼⣏⡾⡽⢶⡻⣵⢫⣾⡹⣞⡵⣫⢷⣹⢞⡵⣻⢖⣻⡝⣾⣿⠁⠰⠟⣿⣯⢸⣿⣯⡧⣴⣠⣴⣶⣦⣄⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⢿⣿⣿⣮⣷⣾⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠃⢿⣿⠟⣽⣿⣿⠣⡙⡔⢣⠜⣢⠣⢍⠢⡙⢄⢢⠡⡘⢄⠣⡘⢄⠣⡘⢄⠊⡄⠣⡐⢄⠃⡔⢠⠃⡌⡐ ⣿⢯⡿⣽⣻⢾⡽⢯⡷⣞⢧⣟⣭⠷⣝⡾⣱⠿⣭⢗⣯⢳⡞⣵⡻⣼⣛⢮⡗⣯⡝⣧⡟⣧⢻⡞⣿⠀⠀⣦⣿⣿⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣹⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣠⣛⣷⠿⣫⣾⢃⠧⡱⡘⢥⠚⣄⠳⣈⠱⡈⢆⠢⡑⢌⠢⡑⢌⠢⡑⠰⡈⢆⠡⢃⠌⡂⠜⡠⢂⠅⢢⠁ ⣿⢯⣿⣳⣟⣯⣟⣯⠷⣏⡿⡼⣞⢯⣻⠼⣏⣟⢮⣻⡜⣯⢞⣳⡽⣣⢯⣳⢻⡼⣽⢲⡟⣼⡳⣏⢿⣆⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠶⢟⣿⢅⠺⡰⢡⡙⠤⢋⠤⠓⡄⢣⠘⡄⢣⠘⡄⢣⠘⠤⡑⢨⠑⠌⡄⢃⠢⡘⠄⡃⠔⣁⠊⡄⢃ ⣿⣻⣞⡷⣿⢮⡽⣞⣿⡹⣞⡽⣞⢯⣳⢻⡝⣮⢟⡶⣻⡝⣞⣧⢻⡵⣫⣗⢯⣳⡭⢷⣫⢷⡹⣎⡯⢿⣆⠘⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⢀⢻⡯⢌⢣⡑⢧⠘⡥⢋⠌⡓⢌⠢⡑⢌⠢⡑⢌⠢⢉⠆⢡⠂⡜⡐⢌⠂⡅⠢⡑⠌⢒⡀⠣⠌⡄ ⣿⣳⢯⡿⣽⣏⡿⣽⣲⢟⡽⣞⣭⢷⣫⢟⡼⣏⡾⣳⢧⣛⢷⡺⣝⡾⡵⣞⢯⡖⣯⡳⣝⡮⢷⡹⣞⣻⣿⡄⣿⣿⣿⡟⢛⣫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣿⠛⢿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠸⣹⡟⣌⠲⣡⠊⡕⢢⠡⢚⠰⡈⠖⡡⢊⠔⠡⢂⠱⡈⢌⠂⡅⢒⡈⢄⠣⡐⢡⠂⢍⠂⡌⢡⠒⠠ ⣿⡽⣯⣟⡷⣯⢷⣳⡽⢾⣹⡞⡽⣎⡷⣫⡽⣞⡵⣛⣮⢟⣮⢽⣣⢟⣵⢫⡾⣹⢖⣯⢳⡝⣧⢻⡜⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣴⣿⡿⡏⢻⣿⣟⣤⣽⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠠⢚⡯⣐⠣⢆⠹⣠⢃⠣⢌⠢⡑⠌⠴⢁⢊⠱⡈⢆⠘⡠⢃⡘⢄⡘⢄⠢⢑⢂⠩⢄⠊⡔⠡⠌⡡ ⣿⣽⣳⣯⣟⣷⣛⣶⢻⡝⣧⡻⣝⢾⣱⣏⢷⣹⢞⡽⣎⢿⡜⣧⣛⠾⣜⢯⣳⣛⠾⣜⢧⡻⣜⢧⡻⣜⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠳⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠌⡐⢫⢄⠫⡜⢠⢃⠌⡒⢌⠢⢑⠊⡄⠣⢌⠰⡐⡈⢆⠡⢂⠔⡂⠔⡈⢆⠡⢊⠰⡈⠒⢄⠣⡘⠠ ⣿⣞⣷⣻⣞⡾⣝⡾⢯⣽⢺⡵⣏⡟⣶⡹⣞⡽⣚⡷⣹⢮⡻⣵⢫⡟⡽⣎⠷⣭⣛⢮⡳⣝⢮⡳⣝⡞⡶⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠈⢀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠬⣙⠆⢳⠘⠤⣉⠆⡱⢈⢆⠡⢊⠰⡁⢆⠡⢂⠱⣀⠣⠌⢒⡈⢆⠡⢂⠱⡈⠤⢡⠉⡂⢆⠡⡁ ⣿⢾⣽⣳⢯⣟⡽⣞⡿⣜⣳⡽⣺⡝⣶⢫⢷⡹⣝⠾⣭⣳⢻⣜⡳⣽⢳⣭⣛⢶⣭⢳⡝⣮⢳⡝⣮⣝⡳⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⡈⠴⣈⢏⠰⣉⠒⡡⢊⠔⡡⢈⠆⡡⢒⠈⡔⡈⢆⠡⡐⢂⡑⠢⡐⢂⠅⡊⠔⡠⢃⠢⡑⠨⠄⡃⠔ ⣿⣻⢾⣽⣳⢾⣹⣳⢽⡺⣵⢫⢷⡹⣞⡽⢮⣽⣚⢯⣳⢭⣳⢭⣳⢭⣳⢮⡝⡾⣜⢧⡻⣜⢧⡻⢶⣭⢳⢧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⡐⢈⠲⢡⢎⡱⢄⡩⢐⠡⢊⠄⣃⠰⢁⠢⡑⠰⡈⢄⠃⡔⣁⠢⡑⢄⠃⡌⠰⣁⠒⡄⢃⠌⡑⢌⠰⢁ ⣿⣽⣻⢾⡽⣞⣧⢟⣞⣳⡭⣟⢮⢷⡹⣞⣳⢮⡝⣾⣱⢻⡜⣧⣛⢮⡳⣏⢾⣱⢏⡾⣱⢏⡾⣹⢳⣎⡟⡾⣴⢛⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠭⡀⢡⠌⡡⢂⡅⢺⡔⡨⢔⡡⢊⡅⢒⠠⡑⣈⠒⡈⢅⠒⣈⠒⡐⢄⠒⡨⠐⡌⠰⣁⢂⠒⡈⢆⡘⠰⢈⠢⢁ ⣿⢾⡽⣯⢷⣻⢮⣛⣮⢳⣝⣮⣛⢮⢷⡹⣎⢷⣹⠶⣭⣳⣛⠶⣭⡳⣝⡞⣧⣛⢮⣳⡝⣮⢳⣝⡳⢮⣝⡳⣯⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢻⡁⠞⡌⠐⡤⠂⠤⢡⠘⣐⠣⣏⡐⠆⡔⣡⠈⡆⡑⠰⣀⠃⡜⢠⢊⡐⢌⠰⣈⠂⡅⢃⠌⡡⢐⢂⠱⢈⠆⢌⠡⢊⠄⠡ ⡿⣯⣟⡷⢯⢷⣫⠷⣭⢷⣚⢶⡹⢮⡳⣝⢮⣳⢭⣛⢶⣣⢏⡟⡶⣝⢮⣝⠶⣭⡳⢧⣻⣜⡳⢮⣝⡳⢮⣽⣟⣩⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣍⡳⢍⢦⣹⡰⢬⠑⡠⠨⠰⢀⣋⠄⠳⣼⡄⣙⠰⢠⡘⠤⣁⠣⡐⢌⡐⢢⠐⡰⢈⠢⠄⡃⠔⣈⠢⠑⡂⢌⠢⡁⢎⠠⠃⡄⢊⠐ ⣿⢷⣯⣟⢯⢷⣫⣟⢮⣳⡝⣮⣛⢧⣛⢮⡳⣝⡮⣝⣮⢳⣏⣞⡳⣝⠾⣜⡻⢶⣹⢳⡳⢮⣝⡳⢮⣝⡳⣞⢿⣭⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣭⢻⣌⠳⣭⢖⣦⠳⣌⢌⠡⢁⠒⢡⠈⢎⠡⠜⣷⡈⠜⣠⠘⡰⢀⢣⠘⡄⠒⡄⢣⠐⡡⢂⠱⢈⠒⡠⢁⠣⢘⠠⢂⠅⢊⠐⠡⠐⠂⠌ ⣿⣻⢶⢯⣛⡾⡵⣞⢯⢶⡹⣖⢯⡞⣭⣳⢻⣜⡳⣝⢮⡳⣞⡼⣳⢭⣛⣮⡝⣧⢏⡷⣹⢳⢮⣝⡳⣎⠷⣭⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢯⣽⣳⢮⡳⣎⡳⡼⡞⡴⢫⡜⠌⢦⠉⠈⠄⡐⠂⡜⢨⢽⣿⡔⢂⠱⣀⠃⢆⠱⣈⠱⡈⢆⠱⣀⠣⡘⢄⠣⡐⢡⠊⡄⠣⢌⠘⡀⢊⠡⠌⠡⢈ ⣟⡷⢯⣟⡽⣺⣝⢾⡹⣎⢷⡹⢮⣝⠶⣭⡳⢮⣝⢮⡳⣝⢮⡳⣝⢮⣳⢮⣝⢮⡻⡼⣭⣛⠾⣜⡳⣭⣛⠶⣭⢿⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣏⣟⡳⢞⡥⢯⡽⣭⢳⢧⡹⢜⣣⡙⢾⡀⠎⠡⠀⢄⠡⡀⠣⢎⢿⣿⣧⣖⡠⢉⠆⡒⠤⡑⡈⢆⠱⣀⠣⡘⢄⠣⡘⢄⠣⡘⠰⡈⠆⡁⠢⠐⡈⢂⠁ ⣯⣟⣟⣮⡽⣳⢞⣯⢳⡝⣮⢽⡳⣎⡟⡶⣝⢯⡞⣧⣛⢮⢷⡹⣞⢧⣛⠾⣜⢧⡻⣵⢣⣏⠿⣜⡳⢧⣏⠿⣜⡧⣏⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣟⢾⡸⣹⡍⣞⣱⠞⣥⢻⢦⡙⣦⠧⡙⢦⡑⢎⠡⡀⠆⠰⢀⢣⠘⡼⣷⣏⡿⣿⣶⣾⣤⣵⣠⡑⣈⠒⠤⢑⠰⡈⢆⠱⡈⢆⠡⢃⠜⡠⠑⣂⠑⡠⠁⠌ ⣷⣻⡼⢶⣻⢵⣫⢞⣧⢻⡜⣧⢻⡼⣹⢳⡝⣮⡝⡶⣭⣛⢮⣳⡝⣮⣝⡻⣜⢧⡻⣜⡳⣞⡽⢮⣝⡳⣎⠿⣜⡳⣝⠾⣭⣛⠿⡿⢿⠿⣿⢿⣿⠋⠛⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⡧⢷⡩⡜⠶⣥⢯⡙⣧⣾⠵⣣⠝⣌⠣⡜⢢⠡⡁⠂⠅⣂⠢⠘⢤⢫⡝⣻⣷⣻⢞⣽⣻⣟⣿⡿⣿⣶⣮⣴⣡⣈⠆⡑⠌⢢⠁⢎⡐⠡⡀⠎⢠⢁⠂ ⣷⣳⢻⣏⣞⢧⣛⡾⣜⢧⡻⣜⣧⢻⡵⣫⢾⡱⣏⢷⣣⢟⣮⢳⡝⡶⣭⢳⡝⣮⢳⣭⢳⡝⣞⡳⢮⡝⣾⡹⢧⡻⣜⡻⢶⡍⡷⣍⣛⠮⡵⢎⣽⠀⠀⠀⠀⢮⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡞⣥⢳⡉⢳⡜⣦⢿⡻⣌⠷⣢⠝⣠⠒⡌⢠⠃⡔⢁⠂⠴⢈⡑⢎⡳⢼⢯⡷⣯⣟⣮⢷⣻⣾⣟⡿⣽⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣤⣉⡤⠘⢠⠁⡌⠂⡄⢂ ⡷⢯⣛⣞⢮⡻⣜⡳⣝⢮⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⢧⣏⢷⡹⣎⢷⣫⢞⣧⢻⡵⣫⢷⡹⣎⢷⡺⣝⠾⣱⢏⡳⣝⢶⣹⢳⡝⣧⣛⢧⠞⡵⢎⢧⡛⣜⢣⢾⡃⠀⠀⠀⠠⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣷⡻⣬⢓⣌⠶⣹⣯⣗⣳⣭⠳⡆⣍⠲⠠⠄⠃⡜⠐⡌⡀⢂⠬⠑⡎⡵⢋⡞⣹⢳⣻⣾⣿⢿⣟⣾⣟⣷⣿⣿⣽⣷⡿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣴⣀⠡⠐⠂ ⣟⢯⡽⣎⣯⢳⡭⣗⢯⡞⣧⢻⡜⣯⣝⡳⢮⣏⢷⡹⣎⢷⣫⢞⣧⢻⡵⣫⢷⡹⣎⠷⣭⢻⡥⣏⢷⡹⣎⢷⣫⢞⡵⣭⠺⡭⣝⢮⢣⡝⣬⠓⡾⡇⠀⠀⠀⠐⢼⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⠶⣏⢬⣛⣷⣻⣞⡷⣊⠷⣉⠦⣁⠣⣘⠐⡈⠱⣀⠖⠡⠀⡝⡘⡔⠫⡔⢣⡞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣾⣿⣾⢿⣟⣷⡿⣯⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣤ ⣯⣛⢾⡱⣏⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⣛⠶⣭⣛⠷⣎⢯⡳⡽⣎⢷⣫⢞⣧⢻⡵⣫⠷⣭⢻⡜⣧⢳⡝⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⣋⠾⣜⢫⡵⣚⡬⢳⡜⢦⡛⡴⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡿⣜⡶⣹⣾⢯⣟⣳⡽⢎⡕⢢⠰⣁⠣⡜⢀⠡⡘⢠⠁⢆⠐⡤⢩⠓⣬⢓⡞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣯⣿⣻⣿⣿ ⡷⣭⡗⣯⠽⣎⢷⣫⢞⡵⣫⡞⣭⣛⠶⣭⢻⡼⣣⢟⡵⣫⢞⡵⣫⢞⣧⢻⡵⣻⡜⣧⢻⣜⡳⢞⡭⡞⣵⢫⡞⣭⢻⢬⡳⣜⡱⢺⡱⢎⢧⡙⡖⣿⠀⠐⠄⢀⠀⠀⠉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡷⣏⣷⣿⣿⢿⣻⡝⢮⡜⣡⠓⠬⣑⠜⣨⠂⡁⢃⡚⢤⡈⢠⢃⡝⢦⣛⡾⣽⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣽⣿⣽⣿ ⣟⡵⣻⣜⡻⣜⢧⣛⢮⡳⢧⡻⣵⢫⡟⡼⢧⡻⣵⢫⡞⣵⢫⡞⣵⢫⡞⣧⣛⢶⡹⣎⢷⣪⠽⣹⢼⣙⢮⣳⢹⡜⣣⢳⣙⠦⣝⢣⡝⢎⢶⣭⡿⠛⠀⠀⠀⢹⠆⣄⣀⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⡽⣾⣿⣯⡿⣧⣛⢧⡚⡥⢊⠶⣩⢎⡡⢚⠄⢃⠜⡢⣄⠣⡘⣬⢣⠿⣽⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣯⢞⡵⣎⡷⣹⢎⣯⢳⡽⣳⡝⣮⢳⡽⣹⢧⡻⣜⢧⡻⣜⢧⣻⡜⣧⣛⢶⡹⣎⢷⡹⢶⣩⢏⠷⡮⣝⡞⣬⡓⣞⣱⢫⡜⣹⢬⣳⡾⠟⠋⠁⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡅⣦⢉⡉⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣖⡻⢦⡛⣌⢏⡾⡵⢪⡕⢯⣌⢣⣌⡱⢎⡧⣙⣤⢏⡿⣵⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢷⣫⢞⡵⣫⢗⡯⣞⢧⡻⣵⢻⡜⣧⢻⡵⣫⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⢶⡹⣎⢷⡹⢎⡗⣯⣜⢫⢷⡹⡖⣽⠲⣝⡼⢲⣍⣾⠟⠋⡁⢀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠸⣧⣌⣻⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣥⣋⢷⡙⣞⣮⡽⣽⢳⣚⠷⣜⡲⣬⡳⢯⣶⢻⣼⣻⣞⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣟⡼⣫⢞⡵⣫⢞⡽⣎⠷⣭⢳⡝⣮⢷⡹⢧⣏⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⢮⡝⣧⢳⡝⡮⡝⣏⡞⢶⢎⡿⢬⡳⣝⠮⣝⣲⣽⠟⠋⠀⠠⠀⢀⡀⢀⡈⢷⣾⣿⠀⠀⢠⠀⢻⡄⢽⣷⣎⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢧⡍⣎⢿⣼⣳⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡾⣱⣏⣞⡳⣝⢮⣳⢭⡟⣼⢫⡞⣵⢫⣝⡳⣎⢷⡹⣞⢧⣛⢧⢻⡜⣳⠞⡵⣋⢶⡹⣚⢮⡜⢧⣛⡼⣹⣶⠟⢡⣀⠈⢒⠠⣇⢢⣽⣦⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠈⢣⠀⢳⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣟⡼⣣⢟⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⢿⣻⢯⣟⡳⡽⣎⢷⣛⣾⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣳⢯⡽⣹⢧⡻⣜⢯⡞⣵⢫⡞⣵⢫⡞⣽⢣⡟⡼⢧⡻⣜⡻⣜⢮⣓⢏⡖⢧⠻⣜⡣⢟⣬⢓⡮⢫⣵⡿⠋⠀⠈⢻⣤⣚⡤⢿⡞⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠈⡆⠸⡄⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡵⣿⣿⣿⣧⣻⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡿⣿⣿⡿⣟⣿⣯⣿⣟⡿⣿⣻⣿⣽⣟⣷⣿⢾⣟⡾⣽⣳⢧⣻⣼⣻⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢯⡞⣵⢏⡾⣱⢯⡞⡽⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣝⢧⡟⣼⡱⢏⡶⢭⡺⣜⢫⣝⡲⢭⣓⢮⡹⣼⡟⠃⠀⠀⠀⣐⡠⠞⣿⡽⢎⡽⣶⢿⣾⢏⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠀⣧⠀⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣻⣝⡮⣝⡾⣿⣳⣿⣟⣿⣿⣽⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣾⣟⣷⣿⣻⣷⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣟⡼⣣⡟⣼⢣⡟⣼⢳⡝⣮⢳⡝⣮⢳⡝⣾⡱⣏⠾⣜⢧⡝⡞⣜⡣⢗⣎⠳⣎⣵⣫⣼⣶⠟⣉⣠⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⣷⢍⣙⣧⣿⣾⣿⣫⣝⣾⣤⣄⣲⣤⣹⣦⠲⠤⣄⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⢤⣿⣿⡿⢫⣙⢮⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣻⣷⣿⡿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡷⢯ ⣞⡳⣝⢾⡱⣏⣞⢧⡻⣜⢧⡻⣜⢧⡟⣼⢣⡝⣮⣛⡼⢎⣞⡹⡲⣍⣷⡾⠟⢋⢉⣥⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⡩⢞⣷⠟⠉⡐⢎⠛⡍⢯⡽⣻⣿⡻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣜⣦⡀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⢀⣿⡿⠉⢁⠣⣞⣯⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡿⣟⣿⣟⣿⡾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⠾⣝⢯ ⣯⣝⢾⣣⢟⡼⣎⡷⣹⢎⣯⢳⡝⣮⡝⣮⢳⡝⢶⡹⣜⣫⣖⣽⠿⢋⡡⢴⠶⣞⡾⣞⣷⣿⣾⣿⣿⣟⡶⣡⣿⠋⠀⠀⢁⠢⠕⡚⢡⢎⡱⠭⣽⠿⣟⢿⡻⣝⣮⣿⣿⣿⣷⡧⣿⣿⣿⡋⢥⣿⡏⣠⣄⣠⣔⣫⢿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢿⣿⣟⡿⣿⣾⣿⣿⡿⣟⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣻⣽⣯⢿⡽⣞ ⡷⢮⣳⡝⣮⢳⡝⣾⡱⣏⡞⣧⣛⢶⣽⣮⡷⠿⢛⠛⡫⢍⠋⡅⣎⢱⡙⣎⠿⣜⣻⡽⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⢀⢠⡐⣠⠉⠒⠬⡁⢎⡰⢿⣬⡻⣜⣯⢷⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣉⡟⢦⡑⣮⢯⣴⣭⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢷⣻⡾⣿⣟⣯⡿⣿⣿⣯⣟⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⡷⣯⡿⣽⢯ ⣽⢳⢧⡻⣜⢧⡻⢶⣹⢮⣽⡶⠿⠛⠉⠀⠐⠤⠣⡘⠐⢊⠒⡌⢂⠧⣜⡎⣷⣹⡾⣽⣷⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣡⠲⣌⢶⡹⢿⣆⣙⣲⠱⣮⢙⠶⣣⢿⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡦⠥⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣻⢷⣯⣟⣷⣿⣳⣯⢿⡽⣷⣿⣾⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⣿⣿⡷⣟⣯⣿ ⣳⢯⡞⣵⣫⢞⣽⣳⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠠⠂⢀⠈⠄⢡⠘⡰⣍⡞⣴⢯⡷⣯⣟⣿⡾⣟⡿⡹⣍⢆⡳⢣⡽⣘⣮⡟⣽⣿⣿⢣⠷⣌⣯⣛⣷⣻⢾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⣶⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣟⣯⢷⡿⣜⢯⢾⣭⢿⡿⣿⡿⣿⣾⢿⣿⡿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣾⣿⣻⣿⣾ ⣟⢮⣽⢺⣵⡿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⣀⠢⡜⢢⡝⢲⣟⡾⣽⣯⣿⣿⣻⡽⣛⢥⢳⡱⢎⢎⣝⢣⡻⣵⣳⡿⣟⣿⣞⣯⢿⣝⡶⣛⡾⣽⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠉⢳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢯⣟⡾⣞⡯⣝⢿⣫⡗⣾⣯⣿⡽⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣟⣿⣷⣿ ⣻⢞⣼⡟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣂⠔⣠⠒⣭⠳⡜⣧⣿⣟⣷⣯⢷⣫⢇⡧⣙⢎⢣⠳⡞⡼⣌⢷⣻⢽⣯⢿⡽⣯⣟⡞⡿⣮⣽⢳⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠘⢦⡈⢿⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡿⣿⣟⡾⣽⣟⡾⣽⢣⡟⣽⣺⢷⣻⢽⣳⣯⣿⢿⣻⣿⣻⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿ ⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⢬⡸⣔⢫⢖⣻⣾⣿⠿⣝⡾⣡⠧⣍⠞⣰⠙⢎⡲⢥⣛⣼⣻⡼⢯⡟⣞⢯⣿⣱⢿⡜⣷⡝⣾⢻⣶⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⢳⣄⡆⣹⣜⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣟⣿⣳⢏⡷⣭⢗⣯⣛⣷⢻⣾⢯⣿⣻⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⢆⡞⠶⣱⣮⣾⣿⣿⢿⡽⣛⡮⢱⡡⣚⡜⡸⢣⢛⣤⡝⣫⣼⠶⡽⢾⡹⡞⡭⢞⠶⢭⢞⡹⣞⡽⣮⢿⣟⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡦⠀⣻⣽⢻⡼⣾⢿⣿⣿⢿⣻⣿⣿⣾⣳⢯⡻⣼⢛⡾⢧⣻⣼⣻⣾⢿⣽⣿⣻⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡒⡌⣞⣬⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⡟⢧⠘⡅⣶⢩⠞⣱⢛⣼⢲⡝⣣⢟⡽⢞⡹⢻⡱⣛⢮⣙⣧⢫⡷⣭⢷⣯⣟⣾⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣰⣿⣿⣻⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣮⢷⡏⣯⢳⣭⢻⡼⣟⣧⣿⣹⣽⣻⣯⣿⢿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠈⠀⠀⠀⡜⣰⣿⣿⣿⣻⣽⣯⢿⣿⣯⠳⡜⢠⢛⡘⢤⡃⣞⡥⢏⡞⡶⣙⢮⣟⡼⡳⣍⣳⣫⡝⣮⣝⣮⣻⡽⢯⣿⣾⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⡷⢧⣿⣿⣿⣿⢯⣟⡾⣽⢻⡯⣟⣳⡛⢾⣳⣽⡽⣞⡿⣿⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⡘⡼⣼⣿⣻⣷⢿⣽⣿⣽⣿⣿⣦⠃⡄⠙⠦⠸⠀⡗⡌⢲⡛⣜⠶⣙⡞⣼⣱⢯⣝⣣⢿⣝⣯⣟⣾⣳⣿⣿⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡿⣼⣿⣋⢿⡟⣞⣻⣞⡷⣹⢏⡷⣫⢷⣹⣛⣷⣻⣽⣿⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡉⣥⢻⣽⣷⢿⣷⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠂⠄⠡⠒⠐⠈⠳⢐⡚⡡⢜⡭⢻⡴⣛⢶⣭⡞⣧⣟⣯⢿⣭⣟⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡛⢿⠙⣇⣿⢫⡝⣭⣓⣮⠷⣳⢾⣱⢟⣯⣟⣯⣷⣻⣾⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣻⣷⣟⡷⣯⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⣀⣄⣠⠌⢦⡱⣯⣿⣻⣾⡿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠙⠀⠀⠀⡰⣃⡤⢋⣜⣍⣫⣜⣣⣷⣻⣟⣶⡿⣟⣾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⡉⠁⡫⢜⠣⢯⣜⣦⠳⣬⠷⣽⣚⣷⣞⣳⣾⣷⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢯⣿⣹⣿⣽⣯⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣰⠞⠛⠲⣦⣤⠤⠤⢴⠏⣦⣈⣷⣚⠉⠻⡄⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⣀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⢾⡀⢻⡿⠉⠉⣷⡞⠻⣦⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠛⠷⣤⣴⠿⠿⣠⡟⠀ ⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⢦⡶⢻⡄⠀ ⠠⠤⡧⠤⠄⢠⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣄⠀⠋⢹⡏⠁ ⠀⢀⣿⡤⠄⠘⠿⠁⠀⠠⣞⣻⠄⠀⠀⠻⠏⢀⡈⣽⠛⠃ ⠀⠀⢈⡷⣶⣃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠿⠛⠂⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠛⠛⠓⠒⠒⠒⠚⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠈⠉⠉⠈⠈⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠙⠻⣄⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⣄⠀⠀⢀⠀⢀⣀⣤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⣉⣩⣤⠴⠶⠶⠒⠛⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣧⠤⠶⠒⠚⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡍⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣫⣭⣷⠶⢶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠶⠶⠖⠚⠛⠛⣹⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠴⠛⠛⠉⡁⠀⠀⠙⠻⣿⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⡷⠷⢿⣦⣤⣈⡙⢿⣿⢆⣴⣤⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⣤⡀⣸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣿⣿⣟⣩⣤⣴⣤⣌⣿⣿⣿⣦⣹⣿⢁⣿⣿⣄⣀⡀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢠⣿⠋⠻⢿⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡿⠿⠛⢦⣽⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠁⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⣿⠁⠀⠀⠙⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⠿⣿⣯⣼⣿⡿⠟⠃⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⣧⣴⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣺⠟⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢁⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣀⣀⢀⢀⢀ ⠀⠀⢿⠿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠙⠛⠛⠙⢻⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⡇⠀⠘⠃⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡟⢿⣿⣆⠀⣸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢄⡼⠁⢀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⣦⣄⠀⣠⡄⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣷⣬⢻⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⣰⣿⡿⠿⠦⢤⣴⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠛⠛⠒⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠹⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⠸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡖⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡿⣾⣿⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣆⣀⣀⣤⣴⣶⣶⣾⣿⣷⣦⣴⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡇⣿⣿⡛⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⢾⡟⠛⠛⠻⠛⠛⠛⠿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠓⢁⣬⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡿⣻⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢐⣯⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣄⠱⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡧⠟⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⢿⠿⠿⣿⡿⣿⠃⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢦⡈⠂⠀⠑⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢠⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠒⡄⠀⠀⠑⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣦⣦⣼⡏⠳⣜⢿⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⢠⣷⣦⣤⣀⣀⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠻⠆⠸⣎⣧⠀⠈⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣄⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⣠⡄⠀⣿⢹⡇⢸⡀⠀⠈⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⡤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡶⠁⣠⣴⣾⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣴⣿⠿⠋⣁⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣠⣾⣿⡿⠟⠋⠉⠀⣀⣀⣀⣨⣭⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⠂ ⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⣀⣴⣾⣿⣿⡿⠟⠛⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠟⠋⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⢀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⢀⣴⣿⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⣿⣿⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⠖⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢀⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠈⢿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣋⣠⡤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠛⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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⠀⣠⣶⣿⣿⣶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠹⢿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⣤⣦⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠿⣟⣋⣼⣽⣾⣽⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⢀⣼⣿⣷⣾⡽⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣟⣽⣾⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀ ⣸⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣮⣤⣤⣤⣤⡀⠀⠀⠻⣿⡯⠽⠿⠛⠛⠉⠉⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀ ⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣛⡿⠿⠟⠛⠁⣀⣠⣤⣤⣶⣶⣶⣶⣷⣶⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇ ⢻⣿⡆⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠀⣠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟ ⠈⠛⠃⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠛⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣶⣶⣦⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⣤⣤⣄⣀⣾⣿⠟⠛⠻⢿⣷⠀ ⢰⣿⡿⠛⠙⠻⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⣶⢿⡇ ⢿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠏⠀⠀⠀ text here ⠀⠻⣿⣷⣦⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡿⠃⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠻⣿⣄⣴⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⡗⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣠⠟⠀⠘⠷⠶⠶⠶⠾⠉⢳⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣿⢿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡇⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣷⡴⠶⣦ ⠀⠀⢱⡀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠃⠀⢠⡟⠂⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣤⠿⠞⠛⠋ ⣠⠾⠋⠙⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣠⣤⣾⣿⠴⠶⠚⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠛⠒⠛⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⣴⠟⣣⡴⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠉⠀⡀⠄⡒⠈⠭⠭⠥⠈⠐⣚⣛⠛⠛⠛⡲⢦⣀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣰⠃⠀⠔⡨⡢⠑⠈⠉⠁⠉⠄⠀⠀⠀⡲⠀⠀⠐⢄⠀⠈⢷⠀⠀ ⠠⣤⣿⣛⡛⠛⣻⢿⣛⣟⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣛⢿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢦⡀ ⡴⠛⢡⡶⠒⡖⠦⢭⣿⣮⣱⣎⣿⣿⡿⠏⠀⠙⡿⠷⠿⣾⢿⣿⢭⡞⡐⣷ ⡇⠀⢺⠠⢾⡟⠲⢤⣀⡀⠠⠤⠄⡖⢂⣀⠀⠀⠙⣦⣄⠉⠉⢰⡄⠠⢃⣿ ⠹⣎⡪⠀⠀⢷⡦⣄⣯⡉⠓⠲⣤⣵⣉⣀⡀⠶⠞⠁⣀⣨⣴⢿⣷⠈⣰⠃ ⠀⠈⢳⡀⠀⠀⠻⣌⡟⠛⠷⣶⣧⣄⣀⣹⣏⣉⣻⣉⣉⣧⣸⣷⣿⠀⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠳⣄⠀⠀⠈⠳⢤⡀⣸⠉⠉⠛⡿⠻⠿⡿⠿⣿⢿⡿⣿⡟⠀⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣅⡪⢔⡠⢉⡛⠲⠦⠤⠧⣤⣤⣧⡴⠧⠾⠖⠛⠀⠀⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠓⠦⣅⡒⠡⠶⠀⣠⡤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠐⢁⠠⠀⢸⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠓⠦⣤⣄⣀⡀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⢀⣠⠏⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠓⠒⠒⠒⠚⠉⠁⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⠟⠛⠛⠿⣷⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠨⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢐⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣾⡿⠿⢿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣷⣶⣦⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⠛⠉⠉⠙⢿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⠿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⠛⠲⢦⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣰⣿⠟⠁⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠹⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⢀⣼⠟⠅⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣇⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⠀⠀⠀ ⣾⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⢽⣧⠀⠀ ⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣆⠀ ⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡀ ⠹⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇ ⠀⠈⢻⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠇ ⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⡟⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠟⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠹⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⣶⣶⣿⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣤⠴⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⢤⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⠶⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⡴⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢷⡄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣰⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣦⠀⠀ ⢰⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⠀ ⣿⠀⠀⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡄⠀⢹⡄ ⡏⠀⢰⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⢸⡇ ⣿⠀⠘⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡟⠀⢸⡇ ⢹⡆⠀⢹⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠃⠀⣾⠀ ⠈⢷⡀⢸⡇⠀⢀⣠⣤⣶⣶⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣶⣶⣶⣶⣤⣄⠀⠀⣿⠀⣼⠃⠀ ⠀⠈⢷⣼⠃⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⡾⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⣿⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⢠⠀⣄⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠏⠀⠀⢘⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⠀⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣟⠳⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⡿⠀⢻⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⡾⢻⡏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡄⢻⠻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⢻⠁⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⡆⢹⠒⡦⢤⠤⡤⢤⢤⡤⣤⠤⡔⡿⢁⡇⠀⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡇⠀⢣⢸⠦⣧⣼⣀⡇⢸⢀⣇⣸⣠⡷⢇⢸⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⠀⠈⠺⣄⣇⢸⠉⡏⢹⠉⡏⢹⢀⣧⠾⠋⠀⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠓⠚⠚⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡴⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠳⠶⠦⣤⣤⣤⡤⠶⠞⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣄⠀⠠⠤⠤⢤⠤⣤⣤⣄⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠀⢀⠠⣒⠨⠅⢀⡀⠉⠭⠄⠐⠀⠈⠭⠭⠓⠦⣄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⢂⢕⠜⠊⠁⠀⠀⠈⠆⠀⠀⠀⡌⠉⠉⠐⢂⠀⠈⣇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⣾⠥⠄⠀⢤⢄⣶⣿⢿⣿⣉⠳⣄⠀⢀⣀⣥⣶⣶⣶⠄⠤⠀⣘⢦⡀ ⠀⡞⡍⣠⠞⢉⡝⠲⠤⠤⠴⠊⠀⠈⠙⠁⠀⠀⢹⡏⠀⠀⣀⣠⢤⠦⠕⠡⣿ ⠘⣇⠃⢿⠰⢻⡉⠓⢦⣤⣀⠀⠀⢲⡚⣃⣄⠀⠀⢉⣷⠄⡀⠁⣸⡄⢐⣱⡟ ⠀⠙⢮⡂⠀⠈⢻⡶⢤⣧⣉⠙⠓⡶⠥⢤⣀⣀⣳⣋⣀⣠⡤⢾⢻⣷⠁⡞⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠹⡄⠀⠀⠙⣤⡏⠙⠻⢿⣧⣤⣤⣼⣤⣤⣿⣤⣤⣧⣼⣾⡿⠀⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣄⠀⠀⠈⠛⢦⣄⡞⠀⠀⠉⡟⠛⢛⡿⢛⡿⣻⢿⣿⠇⠀⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⢮⣔⡩⢐⡨⢉⠛⠒⠶⠷⠶⠾⠷⠾⠷⠛⠛⡉⢀⠀⣇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠓⠦⣅⠘⠓⠰⠄⢀⡀⡀⠀⠒⣒⣈⠠⠘⠀⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠒⠶⠦⢤⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡴⠃⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠉⢉⠍⣉⡉⠉⠉⠉⠓⠲⠶⠤⣄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⠎⠀⠪⠾⢊⣁⣀⡀⠄⠀⠀⡌⠉⠁⠄⠀⢳⠀⠀ ⠀⣰⠟⣢⣤⣐⠘⠛⣻⠻⠭⠇⠀⢤⡶⠟⠛⠂⠀⢌⢷⡀ ⢸⢈⢸⠠⡶⠬⣉⡉⠁⠀⣠⢄⡀⠀⠳⣄⠑⠚⣏⠁⣪⠇ ⠀⢯⡊⠀⠹⡦⣼⣍⠛⢲⠯⢭⣁⣲⣚⣁⣬⢾⢿⠈⡜⠀ ⠀⠀⠙⡄⠀⠘⢾⡉⠙⡟⠶⢶⣿⣶⣿⣶⣿⣾⣿⠀⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⣤⡠⡙⠲⠧⠀⣠⣇⣨⣏⣽⡹⠽⠏⠀⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠦⢕⡋⠶⠄⣤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠂⡠⠀⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠒⠦⠤⣄⣀⣀⣀⣠⠔⠁⠀
GUYS I JUST WENT TO THE INANIMATE INSANITY X BFDI EVENT!! IT WAS SO COOL. I WANNA MEET MORE OBJECT SHOW FANS ON HERE!!1! TAG UR CREATION #bfdi, #object show OR #osc TO MEET OTHER OSC MEMBERS!!! 🔥🍃📘📌🌸|🦀💡🖌️🪭🧪
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣤⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣶⠏⠀⠀⣿⠀⢀⡾⠛⠋⠀⣾⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⡏⠀⠀⠀⣿⢀⣾⠁⠀⣰⠆⢹⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⣧⠀⠀⢠⡟⢸⡇⠀⣰⠟⠀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣹⣆⢀⣸⣇⣸⠃⢠⡏⠀⣸⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣤⣴⣶⣶⣶⠾⠟⠛⠉⠉⠉⠈⠉⠉⠛⠁⢾⠁⣴⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣤⣶⣶⠾⠟⠛⠛⣻⣿⣙⡁⠀⠀⢾⣶⣾⣷⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣴⣶⣶⠾⠟⠛⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣻⣟⣻⣿⡦⠀⠘⣿⣿⣛⡿⢶⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣠⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠙⣿⣿⡗⠀⠀⠿⠉⣿⣿⣿⣶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠳⣄⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠘⢦⣿⣿⠇⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢤⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⡾⠟⠛⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠿⣿⣭⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣴⣶⠾⠟⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣾⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠛⠷⠶⢶⣶⣦⣤⣴⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣌⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠛⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣓⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣷⣦⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣠⣤⣶⣾⣟⣯⣽⠟⠋⠀⠉⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⢇⠀⠉⠛⠷⣮⣍⣩⡍⢻⡟⠉⣉⢹⡏⠉⣿⣹⣷⣦⣿⠿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠏⢸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠋⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣠⡶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡿⠀⣸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠃⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣇⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡆⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣾⠀⣾⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣥⢠⣤⠼⠇⠀⠀⠘⣿⡄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣽⡄⠈⢿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠿⠾⠷⠄⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠸⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣾⡿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣦⣠⣿⣿⣶⣶⣤⣤⣄⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣠⣴⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡟⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⠀⠉⠛⢿⣿⣯⣿⡟⢿⠻⣿⢻⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠹⣟⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠟⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣄⠀⠀⠘⢷⣌⡻⠿⣿⣛⣿⣟⣛⣛⣋⣉⣉⣉⣀⡀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢿⣷⣶⣶⢛⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⢯⣟⣛⢿⣿⣽⣅⣀⡀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠠⢦⣀⠰⡦⠀⢸⠀⣏⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⢻⣿⡟⠛⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠷⠀⣸⠀⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⢿⠀⠀⢦⡀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡄⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡄⠀⠈⠳⣝⠦⢄⠀⠀⠀⣟⣷⠀⠀⠀⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣄⣷⡀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠂⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡄⠀⠀⠘⢦⡙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣷⣷⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡿⢧⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠁⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⡀⠈⠉⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⢿⡍⠛⠳⠶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⠼⠟⡟⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣾⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣴⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⣀⣀⣀⣻⡀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠟⠉⠁⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⡆⢹⣯⣽⣿⣿⠟⠋⠙⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣟⠋⠉⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣆⣿⠀⠀⠀⢁⣶⣿⠿⠟⠛⠷⣶⣽⣿⣿⣻⣏⠙⠃⣴⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣷⣀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⠀⣀⣴⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⣿⣧⣿⢀⣰⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣾⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣅⣾⢿⣵⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠉⠉⠉⠁⢹⣜⠷⠦⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠴⠶⠛⣉⣱⠿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠿⠷⣦⣤⣤⣄⣠⣤⣤⡶⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
hi chat!! im looking for osc sourcemates.,,.,my sources are bfdi/xfohv and ii ! im a suitcase fictionkin and also six and gelatin! uh..my tiktok is : scrawnylittlepudddingboy,same as my discord.,.PLEASE ADD ME IM DESPRATE.,.,we can also be friends ihave great humor trust.,THANK YOU
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣠⣼⠧⠐⠒⠒⠒⠲⠶⠤⠤⠤⠤⣤⣤⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⠶⠛⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⣈⣩⣽⣿⠆⠀⠉⠉⠉ ⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠞⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠆⣽⠾⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⣼⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⣶⠖⠒⠒⠛⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠲⠖⠖⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠴⠶⠿⢶⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠙⣷⡖⠲⠒⣒⣶⠖⠒⢶⣖⣒⡒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⢲⡖⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢽⡇⠉⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⢴⣿⡬⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣺⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠈⠋⠀⣀⣤⠖⠒⠛⠲⢤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠛⠛⠛⠳⠿⣥⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠄⠀⠀⢀⣤⣤⠴⠶⠚⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾⣧⡀⠀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣶ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣷⡁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣾⣿⠗⠀⠈⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣌⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⡇⠀⠀⣠⣥⣴⣤⡶⠛⠉⢻⡟⠉⠁⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⠻⢿⣍⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣷⣄⠀⠻⣶⡿⠿⠷⠚⠒⠒⠓⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⡲⠿⠷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡌⠹⣶⣤⣌⣽⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠃⡀⣿⣿⠀⢪⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣍⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠇⢠⣿⣿⢰⣈⣙⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀ ⠶⠖⠒⠒⠒⠲⠶⣶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⡶⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠚⢳⡿⠟⠉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⠀⢀⡀⣀⠀⠤⣴⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⡀
IF YOU LIKE BFDI AND ARE IN THE OSC THEN PLSS FRIEND ME ON DISCIRD WE'LL GET ALONG REALLY WELL!! (unless you hate book, I'm a book kin frowns!!) user is leoryyx
✿ˋ❀ 𝘌𝘷𝘪𝘭 𝘉𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘛𝘢𝘤𝘰 ✿ˋ❀
⠀⠄⡀⠰⣀⠂⠄⢀⠠⢀⠀⠄⢂⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⠀⠄⡀⠠⢀⠠⢀⠠⠐⡀⢂⠤⠀⠄⡀⢀⠂⢀⠠⢀⠀⠄⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⠠⢀⠀⠠⢀⠂⡀⠄⠠⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀ ⠈⢄⠡⠐⡠⠁⠎⠀⠄⠂⠈⠄⡈⠄⠐⠠⠐⠠⢀⠂⠄⡀⠂⠄⡀⠂⠄⡀⠂⠄⠂⠄⠐⡀⠂⠄⠡⠐⡀⠁⠄⡀⠂⠄⢂⠁⡂⢂⠍⢠⠐⢀⠈⠄⡀⠂⠨⢀⠂⠄⠐⠠⠐⠀⠄⠂⠄⡀⠂⠄⠂⠠⠐⠠⠐⢀⠂⠐⠠⠀⠂⠄⡀⠂⡀⠄⠂⡀⠂⠄⠐⠠⠐⠀⠄⠂⠠⢀⠂⠄⠂⠠⠐⠀⠌⢀⠂⠈⠄⡀⢂⠐⡈⠄⡐⠠⢀⠂⠄⠀ ⢈⠂⠱⡈⠄⠃⠌⠂⠐⠈⠐⠠⠐⠈⠐⠀⠂⠁⠀⠀⠂⠄⠁⠄⠀⠡⠐⠀⠂⠈⠀⠌⠐⠠⠈⠐⠠⠁⠐⠈⠄⠠⠁⠂⠄⠂⠁⠂⠌⠠⠂⠀⠈⠀⠀⠁⠄⠁⠀⠈⠐⠀⠂⠁⡐⠈⠀⠐⠠⠈⠐⠀⠡⠐⠈⠀⠀⠁⠂⠁⠂⠐⠀⡁⢀⠂⡐⠀⠂⠈⠠⠁⠂⠈⠐⠈⡐⠀⠀⠂⠁⠄⠡⠈⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠐⡀⠂⠐⠠⠐⠠⠀⠂⠌⡀ ⠀⠎⢡⠀⢸⣶⠀⢰⣶⣄⠈⠀⢸⡏⠀⠀⠀⣼⢹⣧⠀⠀⢰⣶⣆⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⢸⣶⠀⠀⢀⣷⡦⠀⣶⣶⠀⠀⠡⠈⢰⡞⣿⠀⠀⠀⣾⡿⣿⡿⠿⠇⢐⣾⠿⠿⠿⠿⠀⠀⠄⢈⠀⣷⡆⠀⣶⣶⡀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⢠⣴⣶⣶⣤⣤⠀⠀⠀⣴⢻⣇⠀⠀⢰⣶⣆⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⢸⡶⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠀⢠⣶⡀⠀⣰⡶⠀⠈⢀⠐ ⠈⡔⢁⠂⢸⣿⠀⢸⣇⢻⡆⠀⢸⣧⠀⠀⢠⡯⠀⢿⡀⠀⠀⣧⢻⣇⠀⠀⣿⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣧⠿⣾⡃⠀⠐⠀⣿⠂⢹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⢈⣿⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠂⠀⣿⡇⠀⢻⡝⣷⡀⠀⠻⡇⠀⣿⣿⡀⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⢰⡏⠈⣿⡀⠀⠸⣟⢻⣆⠀⠘⢿⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣰⠟⠀⠀⠀⠂⠄ ⢂⠰⠈⠄⣸⣿⠀⢸⣿⠈⢻⣆⠸⣿⠀⠀⣾⡗⠛⢻⣷⠀⠀⣿⡂⠻⣧⠀⣿⡃⢨⣿⡆⠀⢿⣾⠀⠛⠀⢿⣧⠀⠀⣸⣿⠚⠺⣿⡀⠈⡐⠀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠠⣿⠿⠿⠿⠀⠀⠐⡀⠌⠀⣿⡇⠀⢸⡗⠘⢿⡄⢸⡇⠀⠀⠙⠻⢷⣤⡀⠀⢀⣿⡗⠛⢻⣧⠀⠀⣿⠂⠻⣧⠀⣿⡀⢸⣿⡄⠀⠀⠈⣿⡄⠀⠐⠠⠀⢸⣷⠀⠀⢀⠡⠈⠄ ⢀⠃⡜⠀⣹⣿⡆⠀⣿⡇⠀⢻⣧⣿⠀⣸⣿⠃⠀⠈⣿⡆⠀⣿⡇⠀⠹⣷⣿⡇⢸⣽⡇⢰⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⡀⢠⣿⡏⠀⠀⢻⣧⠀⠐⠀⣿⣽⠀⢀⠀⣿⡀⣀⣀⣠⣤⠀⠐⠀⢀⣿⣿⠀⢸⣽⠀⠈⢿⣼⣷⠀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣽⡧⠀⣼⣿⠃⠀⠘⣿⡆⠀⣯⡇⠀⠹⣧⣿⡅⣸⣿⡇⠀⠠⠀⣿⡇⠀⢀⠂⠁⣼⣿⡀⠀⠠⠐⢈⠐ ⡀⠎⡐⡀⠙⠛⠃⠀⠛⠃⠀⡄⠙⠛⠀⠉⠉⠀⢰⡇⠘⠉⠀⠛⠛⠀⢀⠙⠛⠃⠘⠛⠃⠘⠛⠃⠀⠀⡁⠐⠛⠇⠈⠉⠀⠀⡀⠈⠋⠀⠀⠂⠙⠛⠀⢀⠀⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠋⠀⠀⠌⠀⠛⠛⠀⠸⠛⠂⠀⠈⠛⠓⠀⠛⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⡀⠘⠁⠀⠟⠓⠀⠀⠙⠛⠃⠛⠛⠃⠀⠠⠀⠛⠃⠀⠠⢈⠀⠛⠛⠃⠀⠂⡐⢀⠂ ⠰⣌⣰⣡⣢⣖⡲⣖⡴⣢⢖⣟⢷⣖⣲⡜⣖⠲⣭⢻⣕⣲⣚⡴⣤⣖⣺⡂⢀⠀⠠⢀⠀⡀⠀⠄⡀⢂⠐⡀⠄⠠⠀⠄⢂⠠⠐⡁⠠⠐⡈⢐⠀⣂⠐⣀⠂⡄⢠⠀⡀⠄⡀⠄⡈⠄⠡⢀⠀⠠⠀⡀⠄⠐⠠⢀⡀⠄⠠⡀⢂⠐⡀⠂⠌⡀⠄⡐⠠⠐⡀⠠⠀⠄⡀⠠⠐⡀⢀⠠⠀⡀⠄⢀⠂⠡⠀⠄⡐⢀⠂⠄⡀⢀⠠⢀⠁⠄⠂⠌ ⢂⠌⡹⠓⢧⣚⠷⡧⢽⡹⣎⢯⡟⣮⢿⡬⡺⢽⣱⡷⡾⣿⣿⣿⣾⣜⡿⢷⣤⠈⣁⠂⠌⡐⢉⠐⠰⢀⠒⠠⢈⠔⠉⡐⢂⢂⠱⢀⠃⠅⠒⡈⠔⡠⠃⡄⢒⠈⢢⠑⡤⠡⠐⡠⠁⡌⠰⡀⡉⠤⠁⠔⡈⠌⡐⠂⠐⠈⠄⡑⢂⡑⢠⠃⢂⠔⢂⡐⠡⡑⢠⠑⠨⡐⠄⣁⠒⠈⢄⠂⠅⡰⠈⠄⠌⢂⠉⡐⠠⠂⠌⡐⢈⠐⢂⠄⡉⢄⠱⣨ ⠌⡒⢤⠉⠆⡌⠙⠞⡥⠷⠩⣞⢝⡦⣫⠝⣯⢒⡳⣼⠱⣞⢭⣞⡷⢿⣼⣻⢿⣿⣆⠈⡔⡈⢄⠃⡒⢨⢀⠃⢆⠨⡐⢁⠆⡂⠔⡨⠐⡌⣁⠒⡌⠤⡑⢌⠢⡉⢆⠱⣀⠣⠜⢠⢁⠢⢡⠐⡐⠢⡑⠌⠰⢠⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠘⠀⢎⠰⡈⠆⡄⢃⠄⣃⠌⢒⠠⠒⡄⡘⢌⠠⢊⠔⡠⢑⡈⠆⣁⠒⡈⠥⡈⠔⢨⠐⡌⣐⣂⡔⣨⣶⣿ ⣾⡟⣶⣋⡒⡌⡱⢘⠤⢣⠑⣄⠊⡜⠨⣉⢚⡩⢑⠮⢛⠸⣣⢞⣜⠳⠝⡓⢋⠛⠛⠷⠶⡒⠤⡑⡐⢂⠌⢢⠌⡂⠜⡠⢂⠱⡈⡔⢡⡐⢢⠡⢰⢁⠒⡌⢡⠜⣠⢃⡄⢣⢊⡅⢢⠑⡄⠣⢌⠡⠂⠉⠂⠁⠢⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠤⠃⠜⡰⡈⢆⡘⢠⢎⡰⢁⠣⣐⠡⢂⡑⢂⡌⡐⢢⠐⡌⢄⠢⣁⠆⡱⢈⢢⢁⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣛⣿ ⣭⡛⡽⢿⡷⣜⢰⣩⢂⢇⡩⢄⠣⡌⢱⡀⢣⠰⣁⠚⡄⡓⠤⢊⡔⡩⡘⢄⠣⡘⢌⡡⢃⠔⡡⠆⠅⠃⠚⡄⢪⠐⡉⠴⣭⡆⠱⢈⠆⡌⣅⢊⡅⣊⠱⢌⢢⡉⢦⣈⠒⡥⢊⠬⣑⢊⡔⠃⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠢⡍⢒⠤⣡⠋⡴⣁⢎⠰⣌⠡⢂⡅⢣⠘⡄⢣⠑⡢⢜⣴⣦⡁⣾⣿⣻⢳⢯⣟⡵⣻ ⢠⢒⡱⢊⡔⣊⠖⣡⠏⡘⡴⣉⠞⣌⠣⡜⣡⠓⡌⠳⡰⢉⢎⠥⡒⡱⡘⣌⠲⡉⢆⠲⣉⢚⡀⢲⣶⡀⢬⣤⣥⣬⡖⣠⣿⡇⡘⢌⡜⡰⢂⠣⡘⢤⠋⣆⠣⢜⠢⣌⠳⡘⡜⠦⢡⠣⣌⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠡⢈⠐⡀⠀⠱⡘⣌⠒⠁⠙⡔⡡⢎⡱⢌⢣⠣⣘⠥⢚⣌⠥⡙⠄⣿⣿⢿⣏⣿⢿⡿⣯⣛⢾⡵⣻ ⢠⠇⡧⣩⠖⣍⠺⡔⣩⠓⢦⡱⢚⡴⢣⡓⡤⢛⣌⢳⡡⢏⡎⣖⢱⢣⡱⢌⢣⠝⣨⠲⣡⢎⠲⡄⢻⣿⣆⢻⣿⣿⡇⣿⡿⠅⣸⡴⡶⠒⡥⡂⣝⠢⡝⣤⠫⡜⡱⡌⢧⣙⠀⠀⠈⡳⡌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠄⡀⠀⠀⢳⠌⢀⡀⢤⠓⣜⢢⢭⡞⡆⣋⡰⣾⣾⣿⣷⣶⡾⣿⡿⢯⡿⡜⡭⢖⡳⡜⢧⣹⢳ ⢢⠝⡦⢱⣋⢦⠳⣜⡡⢏⠶⡱⣍⢲⢣⡝⡲⣥⢊⡇⢶⣉⠈⠈⢁⡳⢜⡬⢲⡩⣒⠵⢊⡤⠶⠶⠤⢩⢉⣈⣈⡡⢤⠤⣌⠶⣒⡲⡄⡏⡔⣣⠸⣡⠓⡦⢛⡴⢣⡝⡲⢬⡹⡜⣥⣀⠙⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⡥⡸⡜⣜⢪⠳⣌⠞⡬⣛⠴⣙⢥⡊⢭⣒⡒⢮⠭⠭⣕⠫⣖⠹⡜⣣⠽⣙⠞⣰⢫ ⡘⡎⣕⢣⡇⣎⢳⢬⡓⣭⡚⡵⢬⡓⢮⠴⣙⠶⣩⠞⠑⠊⠀⠀⠓⠣⡝⢬⢣⡕⡅⢰⣒⢖⡻⣌⠿⡥⢏⠶⣬⠹⣍⠷⣎⡝⣮⡱⡇⢬⠱⢆⠸⠀⢀⠵⢋⣜⣡⡾⡴⢧⣲⠴⣤⢌⣉⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⢣⢧⡹⢴⢣⢏⠶⣹⠸⣥⢫⡜⢦⣹⢒⡦⡝⣎⠞⣥⣋⠞⡴⢫⡕⢦⡛⣬⠹⣥⢚ ⠸⣅⡏⢮⡳⣙⢎⢮⡕⢦⡝⣜⢣⡝⣫⠞⡍⠋⢀⠠⠀⠐⠀⠀⢂⠐⡄⠉⢶⡹⠞⠸⣘⢮⣓⠽⠊⡱⢉⠞⡰⠉⠈⡑⢦⡙⣆⠻⡴⢉⠞⡸⠈⡔⢋⡴⣛⣮⡽⢶⣫⢟⢮⡻⣝⢮⣛⡽⣫⡳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣮⢱⣎⡵⣋⠞⣬⠳⣥⢛⢦⢣⡛⣎⠶⣙⡲⡝⣬⢛⡴⣩⠞⣍⢳⡜⣣⡝⢦⣛⠴⢫ ⠱⣎⡵⢫⡕⣫⢞⢺⡜⣣⢽⡘⢧⢺⡱⠏⠀⡐⠀⡀⠄⠁⡈⠀⠄⢂⠈⢆⠀⢧⡀⠀⡏⠶⣉⢆⡀⢡⢉⠦⢡⢃⠄⣱⢣⡝⣬⢳⣹⢈⡞⡁⢂⣴⡻⣜⡻⢖⡻⣏⡽⣛⢾⢳⠯⣞⢧⡏⢷⡽⣎⡷⣢⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡔⡯⢶⡹⣍⡛⣖⢫⡼⡹⢎⡳⠽⣌⠻⡴⣓⡹⢦⢫⠖⣧⡛⣜⢣⡞⣥⠻⡜⢮⡝⣫ ⢱⢎⡧⣻⡜⣧⢞⡳⣜⢧⢳⡝⣧⢣⠟⠁⡐⠀⢀⠀⠄⠂⣀⠐⡀⢂⠐⡈⢆⠘⢠⠇⣙⢧⡓⣎⠼⣡⢎⡜⣥⠚⠜⣁⠓⢚⡴⣫⡜⡆⠕⣠⢯⡶⣝⡾⣝⡯⣷⠻⣜⡻⣮⢷⣻⡜⡿⣼⢳⡞⣼⢳⡍⣯⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠠⠀⠄⠠⡀⠀⠈⠉⠃⠷⣱⢛⡼⣣⠾⠙⠧⡝⡧⣏⢿⡱⣝⠮⠳⠏⠾⠱⠯⢜⣳⢚⡵⣫⡝⢾⡸⢵ ⠬⣇⠷⣱⢏⡶⢭⡞⡼⣎⢷⣚⢦⡏⡏⠀⠀⠄⢂⣀⡴⢮⡝⢧⣄⠂⠐⠠⠈⠄⡦⣄⢸⢲⢽⡸⣝⡖⠋⢀⡀⢬⠤⡔⣆⡻⣜⣳⣚⡅⢰⢯⣞⡵⢯⡼⢧⡿⠀⣀⡷⣻⣜⣧⢷⠋⢹⣞⡷⣝⣮⣳⡝⢶⡃⠀⠀⠀⢀⠐⡈⢄⠂⡡⢊⠁⠤⢉⠐⣂⠰⢀⠈⠋⣶⢹⠆⠀⣠⣓⠧⠛⠊⠁⡀⠀⡄⢠⡒⠠⠀⠂⠌⠙⢖⡧⣛⡮⣵⢫ ⢜⡣⣏⢳⣏⡞⣵⢺⠵⣎⠷⣙⢮⣝⣣⠄⠀⢰⠧⣏⡞⣧⢛⢧⡞⣅⠀⠁⠁⠂⡷⣼⠘⣬⢳⡳⢞⠶⠬⠳⠞⠙⣚⡘⢉⣩⢨⡅⢀⠀⣯⣞⢼⢫⠝⠛⠩⠹⡾⣝⠾⠳⠭⠮⢟⣀⣴⡳⡽⣏⣾⣡⡏⢷⡂⡤⠀⢀⠂⢌⠐⡠⠘⣀⠂⠌⡐⢈⠒⠤⡁⠆⡌⣀⠈⠏⢀⡾⡱⠉⠀⢠⠐⡠⢈⠡⣐⠣⢀⠃⡐⠢⡀⠑⡀⠙⣼⣱⢣⣟ ⢸⡇⣏⡳⣎⡽⣪⢝⣫⡜⡯⣝⡺⢬⠁⠀⢀⡯⣞⣥⣛⡼⣛⠮⣝⡯⠀⠀⠈⣶⢳⡜⣦⠥⣆⠀⠶⡲⢊⢴⢫⡝⡞⡷⣛⡥⠀⣿⣆⡼⢸⢎⡟⢀⡖⣯⡄⣠⠧⠀⠀⠒⠒⠂⠉⢛⡼⢯⠗⣟⢮⣓⣏⢧⣓⠀⡀⢂⠌⡠⠊⠄⡡⠄⠊⡄⠑⡈⠜⡠⢑⠈⠀⢄⠠⠀⢾⡺⠁⢀⡐⠂⡅⠢⠁⡰⡌⢁⠎⠠⠐⡁⠐⡁⠀⢂⠐⣧⢻⡼ ⢸⡜⡧⣝⢎⠷⣹⢎⡶⣹⢳⡹⢞⡇⠀⠀⣼⡱⢏⡶⡹⢞⡵⢻⡼⡹⠇⠀⠀⢸⡣⣽⢪⢏⡷⣤⢀⣴⡹⡞⣧⠻⡼⠍⠀⠀⠀⠓⠫⠝⡈⣿⣣⣄⡿⣼⣹⢽⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⣏⠀⣀⣤⠉⢺⡹⠞⡶⣙⠂⢐⠠⢂⠡⠌⠒⠠⠌⠡⡀⠃⢌⠠⠑⡌⠰⡀⠎⠠⢁⠈⡷⠀⠂⢄⠃⠐⡁⡰⡱⠀⠈⠀⡰⢁⠰⠁⡘⡀⠠⠀⢹⢣⣟ ⢮⣜⣳⣪⣟⣺⣑⣫⠞⠁⠉⠉⠋⠀⠀⠠⠓⠾⠹⣺⡙⣷⣚⢧⡝⣧⢇⠀⠁⠀⡟⣲⡝⣎⡇⡟⣮⣳⡽⢉⡸⠁⠁⠀⡀⠂⠠⠀⢀⠀⠀⠈⠷⣩⢷⣞⡷⠃⠀⢀⡠⣔⡲⢘⡷⣭⢟⣟⣾⠃⡮⢽⣹⢚⠁⠀⡐⠂⠔⠂⢌⠂⠅⡘⠠⢁⠜⡀⢂⠥⢀⡑⠈⡄⠀⢂⠀⣟⠀⠌⡐⡀⠀⢀⡱⠁⠆⠠⡐⠀⠀⢂⠡⠐⠡⢀⠁⢸⢳⡞ ⣿⣾⣿⡿⣿⣽⠋⠁⠀⡀⠄⡐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠴⠎⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠉⠁⠙⠊⢆⢳⡱⢏⡰⠥⠀⠀⠌⠀⠀⠐⠀⠈⠄⠀⠁⠄⠀⠣⢯⡶⡽⣳⡶⣤⡬⣁⣉⣀⣹⣜⣯⣞⢶⣖⢻⡕⡮⢃⠀⠐⠠⠑⡈⠌⡄⡘⠠⢁⠆⡁⢂⠌⠄⢢⠐⢠⠡⠐⢄⠢⠀⡯⡄⠐⠠⡐⠡⠎⠁⠜⢀⠡⠐⠀⠄⠂⡄⢃⠐⠀⠂⣜⠶⠉ ⡇⠞⢿⡀⠀⠙⠀⠀⠂⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠐⢠⢂⠀⠀⠨⣭⢓⣵⠂⠀⠁⠠⠁⠀⠀⠠⠁⢀⠈⠀⠂⠠⠀⠘⠍⠀⠃⣹⢧⡻⣕⣻⢼⣣⣏⡶⣚⢯⣜⠳⢊⣴⢋⡀⠈⡐⢈⠰⠀⠆⡠⠑⢂⡐⠌⠠⠌⡐⠡⠈⠄⠂⡉⠀⠆⢠⢧⢳⠈⠐⡰⢢⠀⡌⠠⠀⠄⠠⠌⠠⢁⠰⠀⠀⠀⠐⠁⠀⠀ ⣷⣝⠬⢀⣴⣄⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠄⠀⢣⣝⣺⠀⢀⠂⠁⡀⠁⠀⠀⠄⢀⠠⠀⢂⠁⠀⠈⠀⠀⢈⡚⠳⠭⣛⢞⣳⣙⠦⠛⢉⡄⠤⡞⡵⡪⠉⢆⠀⢀⠂⠄⢉⡐⠄⠡⢂⠐⣈⠁⠒⡈⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⡼⡸⣍⠖⣄⠑⠃⡔⠠⢁⠌⠰⢁⠘⡄⠡⠌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣯⡀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠅⠀⠂⠒⠚⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣈⣾⢳⡄⠀⢀⠂⢀⠀⠢⣤⣬⣤⣤⡤⠀⠀⠌⠀⠀⢠⣎⢵⣫⢖⣦⢲⠄⠀⠒⠈⠋⠀⠀⠉⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠊⡁⢂⠡⠄⢊⠡⠀⢠⣤⡀⠀⠀⢀⡼⣱⠓⣎⠷⠹⢷⣂⣀⡁⠢⠌⠒⠠⠒⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠈⠀⠀ ⣿⣷⣿⣹⠯⣿⣧⡀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⢠⠖⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⡀⠀⠀⢀⠈⠀⠠⠀⠂⢀⣹⣎⣟⣦⠀⠀⠐⠠⢀⠀⠸⣻⣿⠟⠁⠀⠁⠀⠀⡀⢸⣜⠲⣇⡇⠈⠙⠂⠀⡀⠀⢀⠐⡀⠀⠐⠠⠁⠐⠀⠌⠀⠂⠠⠁⣰⡟⠀⠡⠈⠄⢂⠡⠀⠃⠈⠀⣠⢞⡴⢣⠟⣼⠳⡄⠀⠘⣡⠠⢾⡇⠸⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠈⠀⠀⠠⠀ ⡝⣾⡻⠃⠤⡈⢻⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⡋⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⢀⠚⢬⡄⢾⢞⣖⡄⠈⠄⠠⠐⡀⠀⡀⠀⠄⠁⠠⠀⠀⡐⡸⣬⠳⠝⠆⠀⡀⠀⠐⠠⠐⠀⠠⠀⠈⠐⠠⠁⠀⠌⡀⠂⢀⠂⣰⡟⠀⠀⢂⠡⢈⠠⠀⠂⢀⠴⣋⠶⣳⡜⢧⣛⢦⡛⣴⠰⣿⡏⠸⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠠⠐⠀⠀ ⡳⣜⢡⢋⣴⣎⢠⠙⡀⣸⣦⡠⢀⡄⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠡⠄⡀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠰⠻⢀⡳⠜⣌⢫⢼⡛⠡⠀⠁⡀⢀⡀⠄⠡⢀⠱⠈⠀⢀⠀⡗⣧⠀⠀⠀⡀⠐⢈⠀⠁⠠⠀⠁⢂⠀⠠⠁⢀⠂⠐⠀⡀⠄⣰⡟⠀⠀⢄⠠⢀⠰⠲⠌⠙⠰⠚⠱⠞⠱⣎⠷⣩⠮⠝⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠐⠀⢀⠐⠀ ⣿⣆⣣⣾⣿⣟⣗⡀⣱⣿⣛⣷⠈⡐⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡅⠂⡖⣶⢢⠘⠽⠤⠖⠲⢙⠒⡋⠂⠎⠃⣌⢲⡀⠁⠐⠂⠐⠈⠁⠈⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⣟⠲⣄⠈⢀⠀⠐⠀⡀⠀⠁⠂⠁⡀⠂⠀⢈⠀⠠⠁⠀⠄⣰⡟⠠⠄⠈⠀⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⢀⠂⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⢿⣿⣹⢾⣿⢿⣿⠷⠋⠁⣀⣁⢃⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡤⠥⠴⢒⢚⠪⢍⠩⢍⠫⠙⠭⣉⡀⠀⠀⠣⢐⡂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⢀⣏⢳⢥⢳⣀⠀⠂⠁⢀⠁⠀⠀⡁⠀⠂⠀⣀⣤⠐⠀⠁⣰⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠄⠁ ⡟⣿⣿⠟⠘⢿⣽⣿⣻⠄⢩⢱⠊⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢴⣺⣉⣀⣂⣁⣉⣂⣦⣥⣬⢤⠖⣖⡻⠽⣍⢻⣀⠀⡸⢘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡘⢧⢞⣣⢎⡳⣄⠈⢀⠠⠈⡀⠐⠈⣠⣼⣿⠟⠀⠀⣰⡟⠀⠠⢤⢤⢤⡲⠖⠲⠒⠎⢋⡙⡙⣉⠡⡄⢀⣾⣿⣿⡟⠻⠂⣢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠁⢹⠢⡐⡃⢆⠙⠾⠃⠈⠤⠡⠤⠄⠈⠄⠀⠀⣸⠉⠑⡄⢸⣲⢹⣟⣯⢙⠚⢳⣒⢮⣈⠠⢹⡲⣝⡧⣏⠶⡁⠀⠴⠋⣨⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢮⠹⣎⠞⣦⢫⡵⣋⠳⣄⠀⡐⠀⠙⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⣰⠏⠀⠀⠰⡀⢆⢢⡐⢎⠥⣩⠜⡡⢆⡱⢌⡒⠴⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⠟⢿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠁ ⠀⠀⢣⣾⣿⣦⡉⠔⠀⡒⢎⡱⢬⠹⡄⠂⠀⠀⢲⠀⠀⠙⠀⡧⣏⣷⣚⣿⠋⠸⣬⣓⠾⡅⢀⡷⣺⡜⣥⢫⠕⡆⠶⣫⠗⡘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⠳⣮⣝⣦⠳⣚⡭⣛⣬⠳⣆⡀⠄⠂⢀⠂⠄⠁⣰⠏⠀⣠⡄⠱⠀⣆⢣⠜⢬⠒⣡⠚⡴⢁⠆⣣⢘⡱⢸⣯⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣞⣿⡧⡀⠀⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀ ⠀⠀⢘⣯⣟⣿⣿⣷⡄⢑⢎⡱⢪⡍⠇⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄⠀⠀⠀⠸⣱⠸⣟⡼⣧⢰⢧⠯⠾⠹⠶⢫⠵⣛⡼⣡⢛⠀⢳⢧⢃⠇⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠇⢛⣛⠻⠷⠶⠮⢵⣾⠉⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⢀⠂⣰⠏⠀⣰⠉⡇⠠⠃⢌⡒⡘⣂⠫⢔⡩⡐⢩⠘⡄⢣⠰⢸⣿⣿⡿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠻⣾⣽⣻⢽⠟⢂⠠⠔⠆⣒⣤⣌⡀⠀⠀⠹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⢻⢽⡷⡋⠡⠖⠚⠉⠀⠀⠁⠷⡸⣕⡋⠰⡈⢃⠌⠠⠌⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢠⣠⣤⣶⣿⣽⣿⣿⡿⠷⠶⢒⣒⣲⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠏⠀⠀⢡⣴⣇⠠⢃⠐⠦⡑⢢⢍⢢⠱⢌⠡⢎⠰⣁⠚⡈⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⢉⣙⠛⠟⢋⣤⣶⠸⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂ ⠀⠀⠀⠘⡈⠻⡽⢋⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠙⣄⠀⠀⠀⠱⢧⢻⡖⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⡀⢒⡜⢐⡡⠔⠁⠢⣡⣶⡀⠀⣀⣠⣴⣾⡿⠿⠛⢛⣉⣩⣥⢴⣲⣾⣏⣿⣽⣳⢷⢸⣶⡄⣰⠏⠀⠀⠢⢀⣿⠯⠐⠀⣈⠁⡉⠤⢤⠀⢣⠘⡆⠎⢆⠥⠚⡄⣟⣿⣿⣿⣇⣀⡹⠸⠻⠿⠿⠛⠂⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀ ⠀⠀⠐⠀⢌⠡⢀⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠓⡀⠀⠈⠑⠦⣀⣀⣈⠫⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠞⠥⠛⡀⠎⡐⠤⠔⣠⠉⠞⡋⠤⢒⣛⣉⡭⣤⢶⣦⠀⣤⣿⣮⢷⣯⡟⠉⢦⠭⡑⢾⠁⠀⢘⠟⠐⠋⣴⠶⠛⠈⠋⣀⡐⢬⠱⠜⡬⢱⡉⢖⡂⢈⠦⠱⠘⠌⠒⠑⠀⠱⣻⡽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⢀⠠⠀ ⠀⠈⢀⠀⠘⠇⣈⢩⣉⣩⣉⣉⢍⡩⢤⠰⠐⡊⣱⣥⡀⠠⠀⢠⣤⡰⠄⠇⠈⠂⢀⣠⢶⣭⢫⢯⠙⣡⠾⠹⠞⢽⡃⡶⣖⣾⣏⣿⢶⣏⣟⣻⢮⡷⣿⠉⢾⣝⣯⢾⡅⠀⠘⣺⠭⡌⣦⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣔⢊⢻⣦⠙⡬⡑⣥⢊⡕⡂⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣞⣷⢻⣭⢿⡿⣿⢯⣿⣻⡽⣟⡾⣟⡟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠄ ⠀⠀⠂⡀⠐⠀⣾⣶⣷⣦⣷⣾⡶⠖⠰⠿⢟⡓⣈⠤⣆⠀⠌⠀⢿⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢉⣈⣀⢦⡀⢡⡲⢶⣀⠙⠀⢽⣟⢮⣟⢾⣻⠞⡩⣉⠻⣞⢯⠀⣡⣽⢾⡟⣟⣦⣍⣃⣛⣠⣟⡷⣶⠆⠁⠄⠀⠀⢠⢯⣽⣦⡡⠙⢷⡔⢑⢢⢃⣎⡱⠠⢁⢀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠈⠙⠷⢿⣻⠛⠙⢫⢾⣻⡽⠿⠛⡉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠠⠀ ⠀⠈⠠⠀⠄⠘⡰⢐⠤⣒⡐⢢⡔⠆⢮⡑⣎⠂⠈⡳⢌⠀⠒⠣⠌⣁⢀⠀⠀⠁⡀⢠⢿⡞⣥⢗⡺⠄⠙⠏⠀⠀⠀⢈⠍⠻⣞⣻⠇⡎⡴⣩⢇⡏⢠⡆⣦⣌⡙⢛⣋⣅⠠⠰⡷⣟⡾⣿⠽⡧⢀⠀⢠⡀⡜⣨⠳⣮⡻⣎⠈⠻⣦⡃⠋⣀⢤⠀⠂⠄⠂⢄⠁⠂⠀⠀⠀⣁⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⣀⣭⠁⢀⠀⡈⠇⠀⡀⢀⠠⠐⠀⠠⠁ ⢠⡁⣆⡰⣠⡀⠧⡙⠲⢤⡙⠦⣍⠀⢐⠺⣔⠣⣤⢹⡘⡆⠀⠐⣈⣀⣂⣅⡒⣐⣠⣀⠙⢾⣱⢾⣁⠀⢒⣀⣂⣐⣊⣁⢂⣀⠹⣾⣇⠳⠼⣡⢾⣳⣄⡁⠹⠿⠇⠸⠿⢋⣠⢶⣟⣾⣽⡡⣋⡷⠈⢛⠿⠇⠃⣃⢖⡙⢷⡟⠓⠁⠘⠷⠌⠚⢀⠄⣠⡘⣀⣂⢌⣠⠥⡴⢈⣀⣀⣠⠁⠀⣠⣤⣶⣴⣤⣤⣤⣀⠒⠀⠤⣐⣠⢂⣡⢂⣁⢌ ⢱⢫⠵⡹⢖⡃⠵⣈⢓⢦⡙⠲⣌⠉⢪⡱⣌⠳⡌⠳⣘⠆⢹⠀⡸⢇⠾⣌⠿⡜⡧⠉⠶⠯⠼⠦⠓⢋⣠⣈⠳⢞⡱⢯⡽⡜⠃⣽⣞⢷⣾⣽⣳⡟⣾⡽⣻⢷⣖⣢⣟⣿⣞⣿⠮⠷⠚⠛⣉⠤⡚⡭⣜⡃⢸⢀⠫⢖⠤⡱⣀⣾⢦⡂⡠⣤⡙⡄⢳⣩⢓⡹⣊⣓⢏⡝⣫⢜⡣⢉⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⡿⣟⡷⠆⢁⢧⣫⡜⡭⢎⡽ ⢂⠧⡓⣍⠖⣍⠲⡡⢎⡢⢱⡙⡌⢦⣀⠘⠌⢃⠰⣰⢉⡖⠀⡬⢍⣍⠫⣜⣩⠉⣴⣲⣲⣖⣒⡶⢯⠏⠶⠊⠃⣈⠡⡴⡄⢌⣶⠟⣉⠻⣎⣷⡍⢋⡉⢛⠛⠛⠒⢋⠙⡡⠤⢄⡆⠐⢯⡱⠎⠧⡝⣲⢡⡝⠀⡌⠎⣍⢲⡁⠈⠫⣏⣷⣄⠊⠻⡄⠰⠰⢎⡔⣣⠜⡪⢴⠱⠎⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣯⣷⣿⣾⣫⣭⠋⢠⡜⡜⠦⡖⡼⣘⠧⣜ ⢨⢃⠷⣨⠳⡜⠀⡱⢨⡑⢣⠜⣙⠦⢙⡒⣜⠣⠓⣁⣭⡶⢠⣤⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣤⣍⣁⠀⠠⢐⡀⣌⡀⢖⢪⡱⠀⠁⢣⠌⠻⠦⠥⠾⠛⢃⠐⢣⢔⡒⢊⠳⡘⠎⡅⠲⢍⠓⣜⢣⠄⠁⠠⠜⡥⠓⠦⡍⡇⠰⠩⣌⠣⠜⣄⠄⡘⠋⠛⣠⡐⠥⢘⡍⢮⡜⢦⠹⢥⢣⠏⣰⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣯⣟⣿⡳⣯⠁⡘⢦⠹⡸⣑⢎⡱⢊⡓⣬ ⢠⢋⡜⣂⠳⣘⠃⢱⣧⣭⣥⣭⣄⢀⣀⣵⣶⠾⢟⡛⣍⠒⡀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡦⠌⠐⠀⣜⢢⡓⢦⠲⣬⡙⢶⠀⠐⣃⠸⡜⠌⡅⢊⠜⠭⣒⠱⠎⡔⠫⢎⠸⠤⠭⡜⠤⢏⠭⠔⢫⢅⡓⠜⡄⠑⢢⡙⡜⢢⡙⣒⠬⠻⣵⠻⣎⠀⠏⡖⣘⠦⢛⢬⠃⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣾⣷⣿⣯⢿⠃⢠⠉⠖⡩⠱⠌⠦⣑⢃⠞⢰ ⢌⡣⠞⣌⢇⢣⢣⠐⠤⠩⠩⠭⠍⢠⠳⠐⠦⣙⣂⣭⣴⡟⣱⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣾⣶⣌⠒⢙⡎⠳⡆⡝⢣⢄⠸⡌⢧⡙⠥⣽⢫⣎⠳⣤⠧⡜⣌⠱⣈⠎⡥⢓⠬⣙⡌⢎⡙⢆⠎⣌⠳⡘⠄⠱⡘⡔⣣⠒⡥⢎⡳⣈⠻⣽⠀⠣⡜⣄⠋⢈⠐⡐⠛⠻⠿⠽⣾⣿⣿⣻⣿⣾⢾⣿⠀⠢⣉⠜⡡⢃⠎⡑⢄⠪⡘⠤ ⢬⡑⡏⢜⡊⠥⢊⡄⠹⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⠖⢻⣿⠿⠟⠋⢩⣶⣿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡶⢠⣤⣻⣿⣷⣄⠘⠡⢎⡑⠎⠬⡑⡜⢂⡜⠢⣗⡳⢬⠹⡔⢳⡙⣊⢇⠰⢊⠔⡡⢊⠤⡐⢆⡘⠢⡑⠢⢁⠓⡌⡂⠑⠐⠃⠉⠈⠀⠀⠁⠁⠉⠀⠱⢐⢢⠁⠢⡍⡄⣯⣽⡆⠠⠤⣀⠄⣉⠉⢉⠙⠃⠀⠛⠤⠚⡔⢃⠚⣐⠊⡔⣡⢊ ⠤⠳⡌⢣⠝⡌⠧⠜⡑⢀⣮⣭⣭⣤⣤⠀⠶⢺⣿⣷⡈⡙⠃⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣛⡅⣌⡛⣿⣿⣷⣹⣷⡄⠱⡈⠭⡑⢌⡒⠡⠆⡵⠎⢧⣍⡚⡍⢦⡱⢡⠎⡜⠨⢆⠥⣩⠒⠱⢌⣦⣡⣉⣁⠉⠒⠴⣡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢤⠒⠀⠓⠸⠐⠶⠤⢄⡃⠧⣐⠩⠤⡉⠆⡐⠈⡔⠈⢆⠩⢌⠬⡑⡌⠒⣌⠰⢠ ⠰⠡⡌⡡⢎⡰⢡⠋⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢛⠀⡛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡿⣿⣦⠘⠤⡉⢆⠬⠱⡘⣼⢺⡱⢆⡩⡘⢆⡣⢏⠰⣈⠕⡊⠂⣠⣶⣿⢿⣾⣿⢿⠿⣛⣷⠦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠣⣍⠣⡓⠆⠀⢀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠈⠑⠒⠉⠂⠄⠃⠀⣘⠨⡘⢌⠢⡑⢌⠱⡈⠜⡠ ⢌⠣⣌⠱⣂⣑⠂⠰⢣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⢘⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣳⡿⣇⠀⡱⢈⠆⡓⢌⡷⠀⡱⢋⡆⠘⣬⡑⡇⡜⣤⠊⣠⣾⣿⣟⣿⣿⣾⣿⠃⣾⣿⣿⣅⠈⠑⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢢⠱⣈⠆⠀⡀⠀⠀⡁⠂⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⡒⠤⣃⠱⢊⠥⡘⠤⢃⠜⡡⢒ ⡂⢗⢢⠓⡖⠎⢰⣦⡈⢣⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⢀⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠸⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢷⣿⣽⡆⠐⡁⠎⡔⢪⡝⣧⡙⠧⠒⢘⢠⢹⠐⡰⠀⣴⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣆⢻⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⢆⠱⢨⠀⠀⡐⢀⠐⠠⠈⠄⠀⠡⠐⠈⠀⠰⡑⢊⠔⡩⠘⠤⠣⡑⢪⠘⡔⢨ ⠐⡌⢢⠑⡌⠀⣿⣶⠶⠀⠁⣾⣿⣿⠛⢿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠍⡀⢶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣶⠁⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣾⢯⡿⣿⡀⡁⢎⠰⡹⡆⠲⣶⣶⡿⠃⡆⢯⠐⠁⣸⣽⣷⣿⣿⣾⣷⣿⠁⠻⣿⣷⣍⡃⠈⢟⣴⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⢎⠰⢡⠀⠀⠄⡀⠈⠀⠂⠀⢀⠐⡀⠠⠀⠰⠘⠤⢊⠔⡩⢂⠕⡌⢢⢘⡐⢢ ⠐⡄⢣⠘⡐⢰⣿⣿⣿⠿⠄⠙⣴⣿⣷⣶⣤⣬⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⠉⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⡿⣵⠂⠰⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡾⠉⠓⢻⡇⠐⡌⠲⣭⢽⡠⠙⠛⡡⢜⡰⡃⠜⠀⣿⣽⣾⣿⣿⣽⠙⠻⢦⣶⣿⡿⣿⣷⣴⣾⣿⡿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⢀⠩⢂⡍⢢⡐⠤⡀⠀⠐⠠⠀⠌⠀⡀⠀⠄⠀⠣⡉⢆⡡⢊⠔⡡⢂⠜⡠⠒⡌⠰ ⠰⡈⠦⡉⠄⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠄⠋⣴⣿⣿⣿⠏⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠘⣿⡿⠋⢸⣯⡔⠰⣮⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣽⢶⡄⠈⢿⠀⠂⢭⢎⡳⡌⢯⡱⣙⠦⣱⠃⢨⠀⡿⠞⢻⡿⣿⣻⡀⠳⠶⠬⣍⣛⡛⠻⠿⠿⠟⣟⣿⣻⠀⡡⠃⠀⡀⠆⢒⠈⠰⠁⠀⠀⡄⢃⠜⡀⠀⠂⢁⠀⠂⠀⠔⢂⠔⡡⠒⡄⢒⠡⡘⢄⠡⢊⠔⡡⢘⠰ ⠠⡑⢢⠑⡂⢸⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣻⠄⢋⣼⣿⣿⡄⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡿⠋⣠⠀⣾⣟⣡⡀⣮⣽⣿⣿⣿⣟⡷⣯⡿⣿⣲⣤⠀⢐⡪⢏⡳⡙⢦⠓⡍⢞⡄⠈⠆⡄⠃⣠⡼⣿⣟⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⢃⣶⣿⡿⡿⠀⡐⢁⠢⡑⡈⢆⠩⠄⡀⢠⠑⡌⠢⣘⠀⠀⠡⠀⠂⠀⠘⡌⢢⠘⠐⠁⠘⢠⠃⠜⡠⢃⡌⠢⢑⠌⢒ ⠠⡑⢢⠑⠤⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠧⠈⢟⣹⣿⣷⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⢋⣠⣾⣿⠀⡏⣿⡟⡂⠨⣭⣿⣿⣿⡽⣟⡷⣿⣳⢿⣯⠀⠌⡿⣹⠴⣙⢦⡹⢜⢢⡙⢠⠀⣀⠈⢷⣻⣮⡻⣿⣿⡀⢀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣷⣿⠃⠠⠌⡌⢆⠱⡈⢆⠱⠀⠀⢀⠣⣘⠰⠄⠀⠠⠁⠐⠀⠁⠈⠔⠡⣉⠀⠄⢪⠐⡘⠌⡔⡁⠦⠑⡌⡘⠤ ⠠⡑⢢⠘⡰⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⡿⠂⠹⢛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠏⢉⣠⣶⣿⣿⣿⡟⢀⣿⣿⣿⡟⡀⠩⣽⣿⡿⣽⣿⡽⣷⢯⣟⡇⠀⢂⢷⡹⢦⠱⢎⡔⣋⠶⢉⠰⡈⠔⡠⠈⢳⣭⢿⣮⣝⣷⠀⠳⣹⠦⠄⣠⣮⣿⣗⡿⠃⢀⡘⠤⡑⠌⣂⠱⡈⢆⡑⢂⠀⠃⠦⠑⠂⠀⠐⡈⠐⠀⠀⠉⠄⠃⠀⠀⠌⡄⢡⠘⡈⠄⠄⠡⠊⠄⡑⢈ ⠠⡑⢌⠢⡑⢂⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢗⠰⠟⡛⠛⠟⠋⢉⣠⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣾⡗⠀⢭⣽⣿⢿⣭⣟⣯⢿⡽⠀⡘⣀⠢⡹⠌⠓⠉⡈⢁⠙⠀⠣⠌⣂⠑⠢⠄⠙⠻⣮⣟⡾⣶⣤⣁⣥⣞⡷⣯⡽⠎⠁⠀⠂⠒⠐⠁⣈⣀⣡⣤⣤⣮⣥⣶⣤⣤⠐⠀⠀⡁⠠⠐⠈⠀⢃⠒⠤⡉⠜⡰⢈⠆⡘⠤⡉⠌⡅⢣⠘⡰⢈ ⠠⡑⠊⡔⠡⢊⠀⢿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣷⠀⡾⢿⣦⡈⠻⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⡇⠀⢩⣽⣻⣻⣽⡾⠻⠃⠀⠥⠠⠑⠀⡠⠈⠠⠀⠠⠈⠐⡀⠁⠀⣉⡑⠈⠱⢀⡈⠑⣟⣷⣻⢏⠻⣞⣿⣻⠀⢠⠊⠀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⢛⣩⡄⠀⠠⢀⠁⠄⠀⠀⡅⢊⠤⡑⠌⡄⢡⠊⠔⡡⢘⡐⠌⡄⢣⠐⢌ ⠐⣀⠃⡌⠱⡈⠆⠈⢱⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣶⣀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣫⢿⣷⡷⠀⢠⣴⣿⣿⠅⠀⠈⠹⠤⡄⠒⠠⠀⠂⠓⡈⠑⢊⠀⢀⠊⡐⢀⠈⢱⢢⠀⠀⠀⣯⡿⣿⣬⢱⣿⠛⣿⠀⠂⣀⠠⣙⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣉⣩⣭⣤⣶⣾⣟⣿⣧⠀⠐⢀⡀⠀⠀⠘⡄⢃⢂⠱⡈⠔⡁⢎⢂⡑⠢⠘⠰⠈⠤⢉⠰ ⠐⡄⠣⢌⠱⡈⢌⠱⡀⢸⢿⣿⣷⣦⠈⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣄⣉⠙⠋⣁⣤⣿⣿⡿⣟⣿⠾⣽⣻⣞⣷⣷⠂⠠⣶⣿⠁⠐⠀⠂⢸⠜⢀⠂⡡⠑⢂⠔⡡⢂⠘⡄⢢⠁⡌⠀⢸⡒⠠⠁⠀⠉⢀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢐⠠⠀⣿⡻⠿⠻⣿⣿⣏⢉⠙⣿⣿⣾⢿⣾⣿⡀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⢨⠐⠌⣂⠱⢈⠆⡑⢂⠆⢌⡡⠉⢆⠩⢄⠣⢐ ⠐⡈⠅⡌⢆⠱⣈⠒⡰⢀⠙⢿⣶⡍⢨⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣳⣿⣟⣯⡿⢷⣻⣞⣯⣷⣻⡆⡐⠀⡀⢈⠠⠁⢎⡼⢀⠘⢠⠑⡈⠀⢀⠌⡰⢐⠠⢁⢈⠀⣣⠜⠠⢀⠀⠀⠄⠂⠄⠡⠘⣩⠀⠡⢀⠣⠄⢸⡇⠀⠟⢻⣿⣉⡉⠉⣿⣷⣯⣿⣷⡿⡇⠀⠀⠄⠂⢀⠂⡜⠰⡀⠦⢁⠎⡰⠡⢌⠢⡐⡉⢆⠒⢌⠒⣈ ⠠⢁⠒⡈⠆⠒⠤⡑⢄⠃⢆⡀⠉⠁⣊⣽⡿⣽⣻⣞⣷⣻⣽⣳⣯⡿⣽⣻⣽⣯⢿⣭⣿⢾⣽⢯⡷⣟⡾⣯⠏⠈⢀⠤⠁⠠⢀⠁⢎⠴⢀⠊⠄⢢⠁⠈⢄⠒⡐⠀⠐⣈⠰⠀⡥⠆⡐⠠⡀⠀⠈⡐⠈⠄⠡⠄⠠⠀⢀⠃⠆⠘⣿⢿⣄⣼⣿⣿⣷⢶⣿⢟⣯⣿⣾⢿⣿⠀⠀⠄⠐⡌⠰⡈⢆⠱⣀⠣⠌⡄⢃⠆⡰⢁⠔⡈⠆⡌⢢⠐ ⠐⢂⠡⢘⠠⣉⠐⡈⢄⠊⡄⡈⠆⣀⠉⠛⢾⣿⡽⣟⣷⢿⣳⣯⢷⡿⣽⣳⣟⣾⢿⣽⣳⣯⣟⣯⣟⡿⠋⢁⠠⡘⠤⠀⠁⠂⢀⠂⡜⠼⢀⠨⡐⠡⣀⠘⡠⠌⡐⢂⠰⡀⠃⢀⠖⡃⠄⠐⠀⠠⠄⠀⠐⠠⠀⠀⡀⢂⠌⡘⠰⠀⣏⣟⣿⡿⠩⠩⠔⠂⢀⠉⠻⣽⡿⣿⣞⠀⠀⢡⠀⠠⠑⡈⠄⡁⢂⠘⡐⠄⠣⠌⠰⠁⡌⢢⠑⡈⢆⠘ ⢀⠃⡂⢅⠒⡄⢃⡘⠄⢃⡐⠡⠌⣀⠒⡠⠄⡈⠙⠻⠯⣿⣻⣽⡿⣿⣻⢿⣞⡿⣯⣿⢽⠾⠛⠋⢁⠀⠄⠀⠣⠘⠀⠀⠀⢈⠠⠀⡜⡱⢀⢂⠑⠰⣀⠣⠐⠢⠑⠌⠄⣁⠃⢈⢮⠁⠄⠌⠀⡀⢈⠐⠄⡀⠀⢠⠑⡨⢐⡁⢃⠆⢸⡼⣿⣏⠀⠀⠀⠔⣋⣤⣶⣿⢿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⢂⠀⠁⠀⠈⡔⢂⠒⡈⠌⡑⠌⢡⠃⢌⠢⠡⠘⡄⢊ ⠀⠆⡡⢌⠂⡔⠡⠘⡌⢂⠌⡱⠈⡔⢂⠡⢒⢀⠣⡐⠠⡀⣀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⢉⠁⡀⠄⣀⠒⡈⢆⡉⢢⠡⢄⠠⠠⠡⠀⢂⠠⠁⡜⡥⢀⠢⠌⡑⠠⢀⠉⢉⠈⣁⠰⢀⠃⢨⠲⢀⠂⡘⠐⡌⢂⡉⠢⠔⢀⠂⡜⡐⠢⡘⠄⢀⠀⡿⣼⣿⣆⣤⣶⣿⣟⣿⣯⡿⣿⣿⠞⠁⠀⠀⠣⢄⢀⠢⢑⠠⢃⡘⢄⠣⡘⠌⢢⠘⡠⢃⠅⢣⠘⢠ ⢈⠂⡅⢢⠘⠤⡁⢣⠐⡌⢒⠠⢃⠔⡨⢐⠡⢊⠔⡡⢑⠰⡀⠃⠠⠘⠄⠣⠘⡄⠒⠡⢊⠄⠣⠌⠰⡈⠔⣈⠢⣁⠣⢁⠃⠀⠰⠀⠲⡅⠰⡐⢢⢁⠡⢂⠜⡠⠌⠄⠒⠌⠀⢮⡱⠀⠀⢂⠱⠈⠔⡠⢃⠀⠀⠁⠒⠄⡃⢌⠢⡀⠀⠘⠷⠿⠿⠷⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠉⢁⠀⢄⠂⡔⠩⠔⡊⢄⠣⠌⡒⠤⠘⡄⢢⠁⠎⡄⢣⠐⡡⠘⡄⢃⠢ ⢀⠒⡄⢢⠁⢆⠡⠂⠥⣀⢃⠰⢈⡐⡐⢈⠰⢁⠀⠀⠀⠒⠀⡀⢂⠆⡰⠠⠄⠠⠄⡐⡀⣀⠠⠐⡀⡀⢀⠀⢀⠀⠁⠠⠈⠁⠀⠀⠓⠁⠀⠠⠀⠂⠀⠂⠐⠠⢂⠰⠀⠐⠀⠠⢠⠐⡌⢄⠢⣁⠢⡐⠄⢢⠐⠤⡈⡔⠰⡀⠆⡡⢄⠢⢄⠠⢄⠀⠠⣀⠂⡅⠀⠘⠠⠊⡔⢨⠐⡅⡊⢔⡈⢆⡘⠤⣁⠣⠌⠤⡉⢆⡘⠤⡘⢄⠣⠘⠤⠘ ⢀⠒⡄⢢⠉⠆⡁⢎⠐⡀⠎⡠⠡⢄⡑⡈⢒⠨⡐⠠⠀⠀⡐⡈⢆⠰⣀⠱⢈⠡⡘⢠⠐⡄⢂⠱⢀⡘⢠⠁⠎⣈⢂⠡⡘⢐⡐⢢⠐⠄⢢⠐⡐⢂⠆⡀⠀⢄⠢⣀⠃⠆⡄⢃⢂⠔⡨⢄⠒⡠⢡⠘⡨⢄⠊⡄⠡⢌⢂⠱⠈⡔⠢⡘⠀⠉⠂⡈⠔⡠⢁⢢⠉⠀⣀⠒⡈⠤⢑⠠⡑⢂⡘⠤⣀⠣⢄⡘⢌⡐⢡⢂⡘⢄⠡⢊⠤⡉⢆⠩ ⠀⠆⡄⠣⠌⡒⠡⢌⠢⠑⡌⡐⢡⠂⠤⡑⠨⢄⠡⢃⡑⢢⠑⣈⠂⡱⢀⠱⡈⢂⡑⢂⠱⡈⢄⠃⠆⡘⠤⢉⠒⠄⡌⠢⠑⡌⡐⢢⠉⡘⠄⢣⠘⠄⡊⠔⣈⢂⡑⢠⢉⠒⡈⠆⡉⢂⠅⢌⠢⢁⠆⠱⠐⡌⠂⡍⠒⡈⠆⠡⠃⡔⢡⠒⡠⠄⡠⢑⠨⡐⢡⠂⣉⠒⡠⢡⠘⢠⠃⢢⠑⣂⠘⡰⢀⢃⠢⠘⠤⠘⡄⢂⡘⠄⢃⡌⠒⡈⢆⠘ ⢈⠂⡔⢡⠂⡅⠃⡌⢂⠱⢠⠑⢂⡉⠒⣈⠱⢈⠆⡡⢂⠅⣊⠄⠣⡐⠡⢂⡑⠂⡜⡀⢣⠐⠌⡘⠤⠑⡌⠂⡍⠒⡈⢅⠃⡔⠁⢆⠱⠈⡜⠠⢃⠜⡠⢃⠔⢢⠘⢄⠊⡔⢡⢊⠰⣁⠊⡄⠣⠌⡌⣁⠣⡐⠡⢌⡑⠨⢌⡁⢣⠘⢄⠢⡑⢌⠰⡁⢆⡑⢢⠑⡄⢣⠐⡡⢊⠤⡉⢂⠱⡀⢣⠐⡡⢂⠥⢉⠢⠑⡌⢢⠈⡜⠀⢆⡑⢌⢂⡘
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A LIFE OF DIVERSITY ii (Autistic author) The drive back to the Chum Bucket was quiet, the only sound the hum of the car engine and the occasional splash of a jellyfish passing by. Karen gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white with tension. She glanced over at Plankton in the passenger seat, his eye glazed over and staring out the window. "You ok?" she asked tentatively. Plankton nodded, his gaze still fixed outside the car window. "Everything looks the same, but feeling... different." "You're going to be ok," she said. "We'll get through this." By the time Karen pulls up in the driveway, Plankton had fallen asleep, his head lolling against the car window. She gently lifts him out of the car and carries him into their bedroom, laying him down with care. As she watches him sleep, she whispers, "We'll get through this." The next day dawns with the promise of a new challenge. Karen wakes up to the sight of Plankton, obsessing with the pattern of the floor tiles. "You ok?" Karen asked, voice soft. Plankton looked up, his gaze slightly unfocused. "The floor," he said, his voice still quiet. "What, the floor?" Karen asked. "The floor," Plankton repeated. "What about it?" Karen asked. Plankton's gaze remained fixed on the tiles. "Plankton not same, Plankton different," he murmured. Karen sat down beside him. "How are you feeling?" "Plankton feel... weird," he said, antennae drooping slightly. "Things to loud. Things to bright." He paused, looking at her with a flicker of his old mischief. "But Plankton still love Krabby Patty." Karen couldn't help but chuckle through tears. "I know you do, sweetie," she said, her voice warm with love. "But maybe it's time we focus on something else for a while." Plankton nodded slowly, gaze still on the floor. "Plankton... try," he murmured, fidgeting nervously. "Do you want for breakfast, Plankton?" Plankton's eye didn't leave the floor. Karen tries asking again. "Does Plankton wanna eat?" Plankton nods, his gaze finally shifting from the floor to meet hers. "Hungry," he said, his voice monotone and detached. Karen sighs and heads to the kitchen. She could feel the weight of the new reality settling on her shoulders, but she was determined to make things work. As she flipped through the recipe book, Plankton's voice, distant yet clear, floated through the air. "Plankton... Plankton different," he said to himself, gaze still locked onto the floor. Karen knew he was trying to process his new sense of self. "Plankton still smart," he murmured, as if reassuring himself. "But Plankton... not same." He paused, tiny body trembling slightly. "Plankton think to loud. Plankton hear to much." The world had become a symphony of overwhelming stimuli, each sound and light a crescendo that pounded against his newfound sensitivity. Karen looked up from her cooking with empathy. "It's ok Plankton," she said gently. "We'll learn to adapt. Maybe we can make some changes around here to help you feel more comfortable." Plankton nodded, but doubt remained. "Plankton... not know," he said, his voice filled with uncertainty. "What if Plankton mess up?" Karen set the frying pan aside and knelt down beside him, taking his hands in hers. "You won't," she said firmly. "We'll face this together. I'll always be here to help you, no matter what." Plankton nodded, his gaze finally shifting from the floor to meet hers. "Thank Karen," he said, voice a little clearer. "The chumbalaya is ready." She says, serving him his favorite chum dish. Plankton looks up from the floor, his gaze lingering on the plate before him. "Plankton eat now?" he asks, his voice still distant. "Yes, sweetie," Karen says with a smile, pushing the plate closer to him. "Eat your breakfast." "Eat breakfast," Plankton parrots back, his tone flat. He picks up a spoon and stares at it, his hand shaking slightly. The simple task of bringing it to his mouth seems daunting under the weight of his new reality. Karen's smile falters a little but she keeps the conversation going. "It's a beautiful day out side, Plankton. Would you like to go for a walk?" "Walk outside," Plankton repeats echoing the monotone rhythm of hers. He stands up, his movements stiff and deliberate as if he's not quite sure of his body's new limitations. "Oh I meant after finishing breakfast," Karen says. "Walk after breakfast," Plankton echoes. Karen nods encouragingly. "Yes, after you eat." She watches as he carefully brings the spoon to his mouth, his movements tentative and slow. Each bite is a victory, a declaration of normalcy in a world that had suddenly become any thing but. "Good boy," she says, voice filled with pride. Plankton looks up, his eye searching hers. "Good boy," he repeats, his voice a mirror of hers, but the words don't quite fit. Karen noticed how he just repeated the phrase she's said. It's called echolalia, a trait often seen in those with autism, and it's something they're going to have to navigate together. She decides to keep her words positive and encouraging, hoping it'll help him feel more at ease. "Yes, let's go for a walk," she confirms. They step outside into the vibrant world of Bikini Bottom, and they start their slow stroll down the boardwalk. The sun was shining, casting a warm glow over the coral reefs and the colorful fish swimming by. The smell of the ocean was a soothing balm to Karen's frayed nerves, and she hoped it would have the same effect on Plankton. He walked beside her, his steps halting and unsure, his antennae twitching at every new sound. As they approached the boardwalk, they saw a familiar figure in the distance. "Look, Plankton," Karen said, her voice a mix of excitement and trepidation, "it's SpongeBob." Plankton's antennae shot up, and his eye widened. "Sponge... Bob," he murmured, recognizing him. Karen took a deep breath and tightened her grip on Plankton's hand. She knew SpongeBob had a heart of gold, but she also knew he could be potentially overwhelming. As they approached, Sponge Bob spotted them and waved enthusiastically. "Hi, Karen! Hi, Plankton!" His voice was a welcome sound in the quiet morning and Karen braced herself for whatever would come next. "Hi, Sponge Bob," she says. Sponge Bob's face lit up. "Oh boy, Plankton! What's shakin'?" Plankton stiffened, antennae quivering as he tried to process the sudden influx of sensory input. "Sponge Bob," he said slowly, his voice measured and careful. "Plankton... walk." Sponge Bob looked from Karen to Plankton, his expression growing concerned. "Is everything ok, Plankton?" he asked, eyes full of genuine care. "You seem a bit... off your game to day." Plankton stared at him, composing response. "Walk," Plankton repeated. "Plankton walk." Sponge Bob looked confused but nodded, his eyes filled with concern. "Ok Plankton," he said gently. "Would you like to walk with me?" Plankton's antennae twitched and he nodded. "Walk with Sponge Bob," he agreed, his voice still monotone. Sponge Bob took Plankton's other hand, and together, the three of them began their leisurely stroll along the boardwalk.
🖌 X 💡 lightbulb x painty!!
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SHELF IMPROVEMENT ii (Autistic author) His eyelid fluttered, and his antennae twitched slightly. He groaned, and she felt his hand move in hers, giving a weak squeeze. "Karen?" he managed to murmur, his voice raspy and distant. Her eyes filled with tears of joy, and she leaned in closer. "Yes, it's me, I'm here," she said, her voice choked. Plankton's single eye slowly opened, blinking a few times as he tried to focus. "What... happened?" he croaked. Karen couldn't hold back her smile. "You fell," she said, her voice still shaky with emotion. "But you're okay, you're okay now." Plankton's gaze swept the room, taking in the wreckage of the shelf. His face contorted in pain, and he winced. "Ow," he muttered, touching his head. "You hit it pretty hard," Karen said. "But you're awake, and that's all that matters." Plankton groaned again, trying to sit up. Karen quickly put a hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him back down. "Take it easy," she said, her voice soothing. "You need to rest." But as she studied his face, she noticed his antennae twitching nervously. "Plankton, are you okay?" she asked, concern lacing her words. His behavior was unusual, even for him. His antennae quivered more erratically than before, and he began to rock back and forth on the couch. "The shelf," he murmured, his voice distant. "Shelf broken." Karen ached for his distress. She had never seen Plankton like this. "What's going on?" she asked, her voice filled with worry. "Why are you acting like this?" His antennae continued to quiver, and he rocked faster. "The shelf," he repeated, his eye dilating with panic. Karen's eyes widened with understanding. "Is it because of the shelf?" she asked, her voice gentle. Plankton nodded, his rocking growing more pronounced. "It's... it's gone," he stuttered, his single eye darting around the room. "Everything's... different." His voice was filled with a mix of fear and confusion. "It's okay," she said, her tone calm and reassuring. "The shelf broke, but we can fix it. We'll get it back the way it was. We'll fix it," she repeated, her voice soothing. "Everything will be just how you like it." Plankton nodded as he stopped rocking, and looked up at her. "Thanking Karen," he whispered, his voice still trembling. Her eyes searched his, seeing the fear slowly recede like the tide. "It's okay, Plankton," she said, smoothing his antennae gently. "Let's get you some water." As she rose to get the water, Plankton's panic grew. "No, no," he stammered, his hand gripping her arm tightly. "Can't... can't leave." Karen froze. She had never seen Plankton like this before. "Plankton," she said, sitting back down next to him, "just breathe." He nodded, his grip on her arm loosening. He took a deep, shaky breath, and his antennae began to still. "It's okay," she said again, her voice a gentle lullaby. "Everything's going to be okay." But Plankton's clearly in distress. Karen wondered if the fall had caused some kind of concussion, or perhaps released some deep-seated anxiety. She had read about these sudden behavioral changes before, but never in the context of Plankton's usually stable demeanor. "Let's just sit here for a while," she suggested. She placed a hand on his shoulder. Plankton nodded against her touch, his body still trembling. He wrapped his arms around his legs, drawing them tight to his chest. Karen's screen filled with concern. This was not the Plankton she knew. His usual confidence and sharpness were replaced by a child- like vulnerability. "It's okay," she repeated, stroking his back in a soothing motion. "You're safe here." Plankton's trembling subsided slightly. He looked at Karen, his eye wide and searching. "It's okay," she whispered, her hand still on his back. "You're safe." But her mind was whirling. Was this a symptom of something more serious than a concussion? Plankton's rocking slowed down, and he finally leaned back into the couch cushions. Karen could see the effort it was taking for him to maintain composure. He was always so independent, so in control. To see him like this was... unnerving. "Karen," he whispered, his voice still tremulous, "Karen, Karen hug?" She lurched at his vulnerability. Plankton was not one to ask for comfort, but his current state was clearly overwhelming him. Without a second thought, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. His body was rigid, but gradually, it began to relax into her embrace. Karen felt his breathing even out as he clung to her. "It's okay," she said again, her voice a soft murmur. "You're okay."
CATCH IN MY CHIP ii (Autistic author) Chip looks at his father with newfound understanding. He remembers the way Plankton's eye would sometimes glaze over when the TV was too loud or when the restaurant was too crowded. He'd always assumed it was just his dad being tired or grumpy, not that his brain was struggling to keep up. "So, what is it?" Chip asks, his voice small and scared. Karen takes a deep breath. "It's called autism, sweetie. And it just means that Daddy's brain works a little differently. Sometimes, it's really good at things, like inventing and remembering stuff. But sometimes, it can get overwhelmed by too much noise or too many people or things." Chip nods slowly, his eyes never leaving Plankton's still form. "But why doesn't he tell me?" Karen sighs, taking Chip's hand in hers. "Because he doesn't always know it's happening until it's too late. And sometimes, talking about it can make it harder for him." She looks up at her son with a gentle smile. "But now that you know, you can help him. Like giving him space when he needs it, or turning down the TV." Chip nods, his mind racing. He's always thought his dad was a little weird, but now he knows it's not just weirdness. It's something real, something that makes him who he is. He looks back at Plankton, feeling a mix of concern and curiosity. He goes and touches his dad's arm, his heart racing. "Dad, wake up," Chip cries, his hand shaking slightly. But Karen steps in, placing a comforting hand on Chip's shoulder. "Let's give him some space, okay?" Chip nods, his eyes never leaving his dad's still form. He retreats to the corner of the room, clutching his newly acquired seashell collection tightly to his chest. His mind races with questions, but fear keeps his mouth shut. He watches as his mom pulls the curtains, dimming the light to a gentle glow that seems to ease the tension in the room. The quiet is almost deafening now, the only sound the faint hum of the Chum Bucket's air-conditioning. Chip sits cross-legged on the floor, his thoughts a whirlwind of confusion. He'd always known his dad was unique, but he didn't realize it was something so... serious. Karen sits beside Plankton, speaking in hushed tones. "It's okay, dear," she says, stroking his arm. "Just breathe." Plankton's body twitches slightly, his eye still open and unseeing. Chip watches, wishing he could do something to help. He tries to be patient, his mind racing with questions about what just happened. Why couldn't Dad handle his stories and his energy? Why did he just... shut down? He'd never seen anyone react that way before. Chip's curiosity gets the better of him, and he tiptoes closer to the bed, peering over his mom's shoulder. Plankton's eye is still staring off into space, and his breathing is still shallow. "Mom, what's autism?" He whispers. Karen glances over at him, her expression a mix of love and sadness. "It's a condition that affects how people process information, honey," she says, her voice soft. "Some things that are easy for you and me, like talking and being around lots of noise, can be really hard for Daddy." Chip's eyes widen with realization. "So, when I was sharing all my stories and showing him my stuff, I was being too loud and moving too much?" Karen nods. "Sometimes, yes. It's like if you were trying to read a book in the middle of a rock concert. It's hard to focus." Chip looks down at his sandy hands, feeling a pang of guilt. "I didn't know," he murmurs. Karen smiles sadly. "It's okay, Chip. We didn't tell you because we didn't want you to think of your dad as different. But now that you know, you can help us take care of him." Chip nods solemnly, watching his mom gently guide Plankton to a more comfortable position on the bed. "How do we help him?" Karen sighs. "Well, for starters, we give him some space when he needs it. And when he's feeling better, we can talk about it, okay?" Chip nods, his eyes glued to his dad's still form. He wants to help, but he doesn't know how. He watches as his mom covers Plankton with a blanket, her movements gentle and soothing. "What do we do now?" Karen looks at him, her expression full of warmth. "Now, we wait."
GREAT CHIP ii (Autistic author) After what feels like an eternity, Plankton's eye slowly refocus. His body twitches, then relaxes. He blinks, looking around the room as if seeing it for the first time. Karen moves closer, her hand on his shoulder. "Welcome back," she says soothingly. Plankton looks up, seeing Chip in the doorway, his eyes full of questions. "What..." Plankton asks, his voice groggy. Chip takes a step forward, his heart racing. "It's okay, Dad," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. Plankton blinks again, his gaze sharpening. He looks at Karen. "I had one of my moments, didn't I?" His voice is tinged with self-consciousness. Karen nods, her eyes full of love and understanding. "Yes, you did." Plankton's gaze shifts to Chip, his vulnerability laid bare for his son to see. Chip steps closer, unsure of what to do with his hands, his eyes searching his dad's. "Are you okay?" Chip asks, his voice tentative. "I just got h..." "Yes," Plankton cuts him off, his tone brisk, "I'm fine, ok?" There's a hint of annoyance in his voice, as if the seizure is an inconvenience, something to be pushed aside quickly and forgotten. Chip's heart squeezes at the sight. "Dad, ca..." "I said I'm okay," Plankton repeats, his voice a little sharper this time. There's a defensiveness in his tone that Chip's never heard before. Chip flinches. But he's still confused, and his curiosity won't quit. "But why do..." "I don't want to talk about it, I told you what to know," Plankton snaps, his voice abrupt and final. "So just drop it!" Chip's eyes fill with tears, his curiosity colliding with his dad's discomfort. He's never seen Plankton so agitated before. "Dad I'm so..." "I said I'm okay!" Plankton says. "So JUST STOP ASKING!" Chip's eyes well with tears. He didn't mean to upset him, he just wanted to understand. Karen steps in, placing a comforting hand on Chip's shoulder. "Why don't you go to your room for a bit, honey?" "Ok," Chip says, but he ends up accidentally touching his dad when he stands up to go, brushing against Plankton. And that makes him even angrier.. Plankton jolts away, his face twisting into a grimace. "I said not to touch me!" The room goes deathly quiet. Karen's eyes widen, and she opens her mouth to say something, but Plankton's not done with Chip. "Why can't you just leave me alone?" he yells, his voice echoing off the walls. "I can't even have a moment without you pestering me! YOU'RE the one who's not okay! YOU'RE JUST A KID, CHIP; I NEVER WANT YOU TO EVER THINK ABOUT THIS AGAIN!" Chip's eyes widen, his face flushing with a mix of fear and sadness. He didn't know his dad could be so mad. He turns and runs to his room, slamming the door behind him. Karen sighs heavily. This isn't how she wanted Chip to learn about Plankton's condition. She knows her husband's frustration is a defense mechanism, a way for him to cope with his own fears. But it doesn't make it any easier for Chip to understand. Plankton's eye follows Chip as he runs off, his own expression a mix of anger and upset. He didn't like to scream, but the sensory overload from the seizure had left him on edge, his emotions raw. His son didn't mean any harm, but the sudden contact had been too much. His skin feels like it's buzzing, his mind racing with the echoes of his own voice. Plankton sighs. He doesn't like his son to see him like this, so vulnerable and out of control. Karen never liked to see Plankton upset. She knew to tread carefully with him when he's so explosive, as he's now breathing heavily. "Plankton," she starts gently, "Chip didn't mean to upset you. He's just trying to understand." But Plankton's still tense, not replying to her. Karen saw the frustration and wanted to try again, not knowing if he understood what she said. She inched closer to him cautiously. Plankton's eye darted around the room, avoiding hers. He knew his reaction was too much, but his senses were still screaming. He felt like a failure, unable to control his own body. Karen waited patiently, giving Plankton the space he needed. Her hand hovered near his arm, ready to offer comfort, but she knew better than to touch him now. Plankton's shoulders slumped as the reality of the situation sank in. He had always tried so hard to hide his seizures from Chip, not wanting to burden him. But now the secret was out, and his son had witnessed his most vulnerable moment. He felt a twinge of guilt, knowing he had snapped at Chip. It was his way of protecting his own pride. Plankton took a deep breath, his heart thumping in his chest. He didn't want his son to see him as weak or broken. Karen's hand remained hovering, a silent offering of comfort. He knew she understood, but he didn't want her defending Chip either. Plankton's mind raced, his heart still pounding. He felt exposed, his secret laid bare for his son to see. The room was suffocating, his thoughts a tornado. He didn't want Chip to think less of him, to see him as damaged. Plankton took another deep breath, his eye focusing on anything but Karen's concerned gaze. He felt a knot in his stomach, his chest tight, both of which can in themselves cause an overload on their own. But Karen didn't realize when she reached out to touch his shoulder.. The touch was light, almost imperceptible, but to Plankton, it was like a bomb had detonated in his sensory system. He jolted away, his eye wide with panic. "Sorry," Karen murmured, quickly retracting her hand. She knew better than to push when he was like this. Plankton nodded, his breathing steadying slightly. "It's okay," he managed to say, his voice still tight. "I know you're trying." Karen sat down next to him, her hand resting on the couch between them, a silent bridge of support. "We'll talk to Chip together, when you're ready." Plankton nodded, his eye still avoiding hers. In the quiet, Plankton felt his self-consciousness grow. He didn't want Chip to see him this way, to think less of him. It was something he'd managed to hide for so long, his autism, his moments of overload. Now, it was out in the open, and he felt like a creature exposed to the elements. The room felt too warm, too bright, each sound amplified. He knew his reaction was extreme, but his mind couldn't help it. The effort it took to appear 'normal' was like swimming against a riptide, and now the current had dragged him under. He could see the worry in Karen's screen, the sadness that he'd lashed out at Chip. He took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. He didn't want Chip to think he didn't care, that he didn't want to be there for him. He just couldn't handle the touch, not now. Not with his senses still in overdrive. Karen knew that look, the one of internal battle. "Why don't we go talk to him?" she suggested, her voice soft. Plankton nodded, pushing himself out of the chair. His legs felt like jelly, his heart racing. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before opening the door to Chip's room.
CHIP AND THE DILEMMA ii (Autistic author) | ᴺᵉᵍᵃᵗⁱᵛⁱᵗʸ ᵂᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ | Karen's eyes widen, and she quickly takes in the situation. She's seen this before—his meltdowns. They've become less frequent, but when they happen, they hit hard. She turns to Chip, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Chip, honey, why don't you go wash up for dinner?" Her voice is calm, but firm. Chip's screen flicked between his dad and mom, not fully understanding. "But Dad said we're doing the solar system after dinner," he protests weakly. Karen gives him a gentle nudge towards the door. "It's ok, sweetie. I'll take care of this. You go ahead." Reluctantly, Chip backs out of the room. He's worried, but he trusts his mom. Karen closes the door behind Chip, turning her full attention to Plankton. His breathing is still erratic, his eye unfocused. "It's okay," she whispers, moving closer to him. She's learned over the years that proximity can be both a comfort and a trigger. She treads carefully. Plankton flinches at her approach, but she's quick to respond, retreating slightly. She knows better than to push to hard. "You're having a hard time," she says softly, her voice soothing. "Do you want me to turn off the light?" Plankton nods, his eye squeezed shut. The dimness of the room helps, but the noise of Chip's retreating footsteps echoes like thunder. Karen moves to the window, drawing the curtains to block the setting sun, plunging the room into a comforting gloom. She sits down next to Plankton, not touching him, but close enough to be there. He takes a shaky breath. "Talk to me, love," Karen coaxes. "What triggered it?" Plankton's eye are still closed, but his breathing steadies. "Chip," he manages. "Chip's touch. It was too much." Karen nods. She's always been his rock, but she hates seeing him like this. She knows the stress of hiding his autism has taken a toll on him. "We should tell him," she says gently. "He's old enough to understand." Plankton's eye flies open, his panic rising again. "No," he says firmly. "He doesn't need to know." Karen sighs, stroking his back gently. "He deserves to know, Plankton. He loves you and he's worried about you." Plankton's body relaxes a little, the sound of Karen's voice like a balm to his frayed nerves. "I know," he admits. Karen nods, understanding the fear behind his words. "But think about it," she says. "He's going to notice things. It's better if we explain it to him on our terms, rather than him figuring conclusions and feeling alone or scared." Plankton looks at Karen, his expression a mix of fear and resignation. "Perhaps when the ringing in my ears dwindles," he says, his voice shaking. "I know, we can't keep it from him forever." Karen nods, her screen filled with empathy. "Whenever you're ready," she says. "We'll do it together." Plankton takes a deep breath, his mind racing with thoughts of how to explain his condition to Chip. He knows it won't be easy, but his son deserves the truth. Dinner is a subdued affair, both Chip and Karen watching Plankton closely, noticing his lack of appetite and the faraway look in his eye. Chip keeps his questions to himself, sensing his dad's discomfort. After dinner, Karen breaks the silence. "Chip, why don’t we all go to your room?" she suggests, trying to keep her voice light. Chip nods, leading the way as Plankton follows, his steps slow and measured. Karen can feel the tension in his body as he tries to keep his composure. Once in Chip's room, Plankton sits on the edge of his bed, looking around. Chip notices the uncharacteristic stillness in his father's posture, the way his antennae droop slightly. "What's going on?" he asks, his voice a mix of confusion and concern. Karen sits beside Plankton, her hand resting gently on his. "Chip, your dad has something important to tell you." Chip looks at them both, his screen wide. "What is it?" Plankton takes a deep breath. "Chip," he starts, his voice shaking slightly. "There's something you should know about me." Chip looks between his mom and dad. "What is it?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. Plankton takes a moment, his eye scanning the room as if searching for the right words. "I'm... different, Chip," he finally says, his gaze locking onto Chip's. "I have a condition, called..." “Oh, Dad! Will get better?” Chip asks. “It’s gonna go away, right?” Plankton’s eye fills with sorrow as he shakes his head. “No, Chip, it doesn’t..." But before he can finish, Chip gasps. “It’s called autism, Chip,” Karen says gently, filling the silence. Chip frowns, his mind racing. “What’s that?” He’s heard the word before, but it’s always been in whispers or as a punchline in a joke at school. He doesn’t understand. Plankton sighs heavily. "It's a... the way my brain works," he explains, his antennae twitching with nerves. "It's like I experience the world through a different way than you do." Chip's eyes widen, his mind swirling with questions. "So, you're like... broken?" he asks, his voice filled with innocent concern. Plankton flinches at the word, his heart sinking. He's always feared this moment, wondered how his son would react. "No, Chip," he says, trying to keep his voice steady. "It's not like that. Autism is just part of who I am." But Chip's mind is racing. "You, you're like... not normal?" He can't hide the worry in his tone. Plankton's eye flickers with pain at the question, but he nods. "It's just a different way of things, buddy! It doesn't make me less..." But Chip's mind is already made up. "So you can't be fixed?" he blurts out, his tone filled with disappointment. Plankton's antennae droop. "There's nothing to fix," Karen says, interrupting gently. "Different, not broken. Autism is just a part of who your father is." But Chip can't shake the word from his mind. "Autistic." He's heard it before in whispers at school, thrown around like an insult. He looks at Plankton, his hero, his rock. But the damage is done. In Chip's gaze, his dad is no longer just quirky or unique— he's broken, like a toy that's missing a piece. "Chip," Karen says gently, "autism isn't something that can be fixed or taken away. It's part of who your dad is, and it's what makes him special." Chip looks at his mother, his expression confused. "But if he's different, doesn't that mean he's not as good?" Karen's screen fills with sadness, but she remains calm. "No, Chip," she says firmly. "Being different doesn't mean being less. It just means seeing the world in a different way. And your dad, he's incredible in so many ways. He's smart, and he's kind, and he loves you more than anything."
JUST A TOUCH ii (Autistic author) Plankton began to sit up, his movements were methodical, each action deliberate and precise. His antennae twitched as he took in the sights and sounds of the hospital room, his eye searching for familiarity in the unfamiliar setting. "Home?" he asked, his voice a mix of confusion and urgency. Karen's screen filled with understanding. "We're not home, sweetie. We need to stay here until the doctors are sure you're okay." She kept her tone soft and even, hoping to soothe his growing anxiety. Plankton's gaze remained fixed on her, his expression unreadable. "You've acquired Autism." The doctor nodded in agreement. "It's important that he feels secure and comfortable in this new environment. Let's start with some simple questions to gauge his cognitive function." He turned to Plankton. "Can you tell me your name?" Plankton's response was immediate and crystal clear. "Sheldon J. Plankton." Karen's heart skipped a beat at the formality in his tone. This was her husband, but the way he spoke was unlike anything she had heard from him before. The doctor's smile remained, but his eyes were assessing. "And who is this lovely lady next to you?" Plankton paused, his antennae quivering. "Karen," he said, his voice slightly softer, "Plankton's computer wife." He was stating facts, not sharing his emotions. The doctor noted the exchange and nodded. "It's alright, Karen. This is all part of the adjustment." He then turned to Plankton. "Can you tell me what you see around you?" Plankton's eye darted around the room again, his antennae twitching rapidly. "White walls. Blue floor. Bright lights. Machines," he listed, his voice devoid of inflection. The doctor jotted down notes, his gaze thoughtful. "Good, good. Now, can you tell me how you feel?" Plankton's response was quick and specific. "Plankton feel the coolness of the air conditioner, hear the hum of the lights above. Plankton's hand is clammy. Your hand is dry." Karen felt a pang of sadness at his lack of emotional description. The doctor nodded, his gaze shifting to Karen. "It's not uncommon for individuals with Acquired Autism to speak in a matter-of-fact manner, especially when they're trying to make sense of their surroundings." Karen felt a tear slip down her screen as she forced a smile for Plankton. "Okay, we can handle this," she thought, wiping it away. Plankton's gaze never left the doctor, his eye scanning every tentacle as he spoke. "Now, let's check your coordination," the doctor said, handing him a simple puzzle. Plankton took the puzzle pieces in his tiny hands and began to assemble them with lightning speed. The doctor watched in amazement as the intricate pattern emerged, each piece fitting perfectly. "Remarkable," he murmured. "It seems his problem-solving abilities have indeed been enhanced." Karen couldn't help but smile through her tears as she saw Plankton's meticulous movements, the way his fingers danced over the plastic pieces. It was as if he saw a pattern that she couldn't. As the puzzle came together, she noticed his breathing had evened out, his movements more fluid, as if the task provided him some semblance of peace. But when the doctor tried to take the puzzle away to test another cognitive function, Plankton's hand shot out, his grip tightening on the last piece. "No," he said firmly, his voice edged with something new, something akin to panic. "It's not finished." The doctor exchanged a look with Karen, who nodded slowly. They had to respect his new boundaries. "Alright, Plankton, take your time," she said, her voice calm. The doctor stepped back, allowing Plankton to complete his task. With a final snap, the puzzle was done. Plankton stared at it, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Once the puzzle was complete, he handed it back to the doctor with a nod. The doctor took it with a smile. "Very good, Plankton." Karen felt a swell of pride mixed with the fear. "Now, let's move on to some memory recall," the doctor suggested, his tentacles holding a series of cards with images. "I'm going to ask you..." But before the doctor could finish, Plankton's antennae shot up, his eye widening as he spotted a smudge on the wall. "Clean," he murmured, his gaze firmly locked on the imperfection. Karen's heart sank as she watched his obsession take hold. The doctor paused, sensing the shift in Plankton's focus. "It appears Plankton has developed some OCD tendencies alongside his Autism," he said gently to Karen. "It's not unusual for them to fixate on certain things." Karen nodded, her eyes never leaving Plankton's as his gaze remained glued to the smudge. "It's okay, Plankton," she said, her voice soothing. "We can get someone to clean it." Plankton's antennae twitched, his body visibly relaxing at the thought. The doctor nodded at a nearby janitor, who quickly came over and wiped the smudge away, leaving the wall gleaming. With the wall back to its pristine state, Plankton's eye moved back to the cards. He took them in his hands and studied each image intently, his antennae quivering with concentration. "Ready?" Karen asked, hopeful that this part of the assessment would go smoothly. But Plankton's gaze shifted to the floor, focusing on the tiles. Each one was perfectly aligned, except for a single one slightly askew. "Crooked," he said, his voice laced with distress. Karen's heart broke as she watched him struggle with the internal conflict of wanting to fix it and knowing he couldn't. The doctor, noticing the shift in mood, stepped in. "It's alright, Plankton. Let's focus on..." But Plankton's eye was already darting around the room, spotting every imperfection, his anxiety rising. Karen knew they had to get home, to a place where he could find peace. "Doctor, can we go?" she interrupted, her voice tight with urgency. The doctor nodded, his smile understanding. "Yes, you can take him home. Remember, patience is key. His world has changed, and he needs a stable environment to adjust." Karen stood, cradling Plankton in her arms once again. He felt lighter, his body more rigid than usual. As they left the hospital, the chaotic world of Bikini Bottom rushed in, a cacophony of sounds and lights. Plankton's eye widened, his antennae quivering. Karen could feel his discomfort, his body tensing with each step they took closer to the noisy, bustling streets.
THE TOOTH OF A CHILD ii The nurse finished up the paperwork and handed it to Karen. "You're all set to go home once Mr. Plankton is ready. Just remember, he'll need to take it easy for a few days. No solid food, only soft things like soups and mashed potatoes." Karen nodded, her gaze still locked on Plankton's fascinated expression. "I've got it covered," she said. Plankton, seemingly oblivious to the instructions, was busy poking his cheeks with his fingers, his mouth still numb and frozen. He looked up at her, his eye twinkling. "Kay... Kahen... anotha... anotha teeth." The nurse had left the room, leaving them in a quiet solitude punctuated only by the rhythmic beeping of the monitors and the occasional swish of hospital curtains. Karen couldn't resist the urge to laugh. "You're already asking for more?" she teased. Plankton shrugged, his expression as goofy as a puppy's. "Ith... wothless... wifout... wisdom," he mumbled. Her amusement grew. "I'm not sure if that's a compliment to the teeth or an insult to me," she said playfully. Plankton's antennae shot up, his cheeks flushing a brighter shade of pink. "Mmph... no, no... gwed... wisdom..." he insisted, his speech still slurred. Karen couldn't help but smile at his earnestness. "Alright, I'll keep that in mind," she said, her voice filled with affectionate sarcasm. "So, what's the first thing you want to do when we get home?" Plankton's antennae twitched with excitement. "Mmph... mow... wock?" he slurred, his voice muffled by the anesthesia. Karen raised an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden interest in music. "You want to rock?" she repeated, amusement dancing in her eyes. Plankton nodded vigorously, his antennae bobbing. "Mmhmm," he managed, his mouth still refusing to cooperate. "Wock and wowl." Karen couldn't help but laugh. "Okay, okay. I'll make sure to have some rock music ready for when we get home." Plankton's eye lit up, his enthusiasm clear despite the numbness. "Gweat," he murmured, his antennae swaying to an unheard melody. Karen watched him, his normally stoic face now a canvas of comical expressions and muffled sounds. It was surreal to see him like this, but she found his vulnerability endearing. "But first, we need to get you home," she said, her voice a gentle reminder of reality. Plankton nodded, his eye closing in exhaustion. He leaned his head back on the pillow, his snoring resuming its soft crescendo. The nurse returned to check on them. "Looks like he's comfortable," she said with a smile. "You can take him home whenever you're ready." Karen nodded, still watching Plankton's peaceful face. "Mmph... Kahen?" Plankton's eye opened again, searching for her. "Ca-- we go now?" he slurred, his voice laced with hope. Karen couldn't resist the urge to lean over and kiss his forehead. "Soon, buddy," she whispered. He nodded, his antennae waving sluggishly. His hand found hers again, his grip firm despite his grogginess. Karen felt her heart melt at his determination. "Mmph... I teww you 'notha tink?" he mumbled, his smile hopeful. "Sure," she said, leaning closer. "Wheh, mmmph... the dentist made every ting awwright, yet firsh, they saith I woul’ be in surgery. Bu’ they didn’t even cuth me openth! They jus’ made every ting go woozy," Plankton slurred. "Then youw face wath theath wight bulb on top." Karen couldn't stop herself from laughing. "What are you talking about, Plankton?" she asked, her voice filled with warmth. He tried to enunciate, his lips moving awkwardly. "Mmph, Kahen, the dentist... they... they put me to sweep wi’out cutting me." His words were jumbled. Karen's curiosity piqued, she leaned in closer. "What do you mean, without cutting you?" she questioned, her voice filled with gentle amusement. Plankton's antennae waved wildly. "Mmph, they goth me all sleepy and then I woke up wifout getting cuth!" he exclaimed, his words still thick. Karen couldn't contain her laughter. "They didn't cut you because they already took your teeth out while you were asleep," she explained, her voice a blend of humor and affection. Plankton's antennae drooped, his eye looking disappointed. "Mmph, oh... I wath expehcting a magith trick." He slumped back into the pillow. Karen chuckled, stroking his hand. "It's like magic, isn't it?" she said, her voice light. "You went to sleep with four extra teeth and woke up with none." Plankton's antennae shot up again. "Ma... ma... magic?" he repeated, his voice filled with wonder. Karen nodded. "In a way, yes. They used sleepy medicine so you wouldn't feel a thing." He stared at her, his eye wide with fascination. "Wow, Kahen. They're wike wizawds!" he exclaimed, his speech still slurred but his enthusiasm unmistakable. Karen laughed again, her heart feeling lighter. "Mmph, can they make me fwee too?" Plankton asked, his voice filled with hope. Karen shook her head, her smile never leaving her lips. "Sorry, Plankton. Only in your dreams." He pouted, his cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk's. "Mmph, no fun." His eye grew heavy again, his body still feeling the weight of the anesthesia. Karen stood, gently squeezing his hand. "Let's get you up, okay?" With a groan, Plankton managed to push himself into a sitting position, his legs dangling over the side of the bed. Karen supported him, her arm wrapped around his shoulder. His head lolled to one side. "Mmph... wath... whath... whath's that?" Plankton's voice was a muffled mess, his words tripping over his still-numb tongue. Karen followed his gaze to the plastic cup of water. "Mmph... wath's in thef?" he asked, his curiosity piqued. Karen laughed gently. "It's for rinsing, buddy. To keep your mouth clean." Plankton nodded, his antennae still waving with excitement. The nurse stepped in to help, handing him the cup filled with water. "Here, take a sip." Plankton's antennae waved nervously as he took the cup, his hand trembling. He took a tentative sip, his mouth filling with the cold liquid. "Ah, gwed," he slurred, his speech still affected by the anesthesia. Karen watched him with amusement. "You're doing great," she encouraged, her voice soothing. Plankton managed a wobbly nod. "Mmph... wath's nxt?" "Now, we just need to get you home," she said, her eyes sparkling with mirth. Plankton's antennae drooped slightly. "Mmph... dawes?" Karen nodded, her smile never fading. "Yes, darling, we're going home now." Plankton's eye lit up with excitement, his slurred speech a cute contrast to his usual sharp wit.
KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY ii (Autistic author) The next morning, Karen woke up to find Plankton still asleep, his hand still clutching hers. She gently pulled her hand away and stood up. Plankton's snores echoed through the quiet room. Karen studied his peaceful expression, his features softer in sleep, and felt a surge of affection for the man she had married so many years ago. In the cold light of day, the reality of his condition settled in. He was different, but she would not let that change the way she saw him. As a robot, Karen understood the importance of adjusting to new situations, and this was no exception. As Plankton stirred, she quickly moved to his side, ready to face whatever challenges the day might bring. His eye opened, looking around the room before settling on her. "Karen," he said, his voice still flat, but with a hint of recognition. "Good morning, Plankton," she replied. This was their first day facing his autism together, and she had spent the night preparing. Plankton sat up, his eye locking onto hers. "Morning," he repeated. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if his brain was processing each action. "Would you like some breakfast?" she asked. He nodded. "No vault," he murmured, and she could see the beginnings of a frown. Karen nodded, knowing that his obsessions might become more pronounced. "It's okay," she said. "We don't need the vault." Plankton's eye searched her face, his expression unreadable. "No vault," he repeated, his voice rising slightly. "Good." Karen nodded. "Let's start the day," she suggested, trying to shift the focus. She led him to the tiny kitchen area, the smell of chum wafting through the air. Plankton followed her, his steps measured and precise. His gaze flitted around the room, taking in every detail. "Would you like eggs or chum?" she asked. "Both," he said, his voice clearer than before. Karen nodded, cracking an egg over the sizzling pan. Plankton sat at the table, rocking back and forth slightly. It was clear that his senses were heightened, every sound and smell more intense than before. "Here's your breakfast, Plankton," she said, placing the plate in front of him. His gaze fixated on the food, his eye narrowing as if studying a complex puzzle. "Thank you," he said, the words coming out mechanically. But as Karen stirred the chum and eggs together, something shifted in his demeanor. He stiffened in his chair, his rocking coming to an abrupt halt. "What's wrong?" she asked, noticing the sudden change. Plankton's eye grew wide. "No," he whispered, his voice strained. "Not together. Separate," he demanded, his voice growing more urgent. Karen paused, her circuits racing. "I'm sorry," she said gently. "I'll fix it." She carefully scraped the food onto two separate places, one with egg, one with chum. She placed it in front of him, hoping she was interpreting his needs correctly. Plankton stared. "Different plate," he murmured. "And a new spoon. And new eggs not touching new chum." Karen nodded, quickly moving to comply with his requests. She knew that routines and sensory preferences could be crucial for individuals with autism, and she wanted to make sure his first breakfast post-diagnosis was as comfortable as possible. She replicated his meal with meticulous precision, ensuring every detail was exactly as he had specified, ridding of the old food. The new plate was set before him, the eggs and chum neatly separated. Plankton's shoulders relaxed slightly. He picked up the spoon, his gaze intensely focused on the task at hand. Karen watched as he took a tiny bite in what seemed like pleasure. "Good?" she ventured. Plankton nodded, his eye not leaving the plate. "Good," he echoed, his voice still monotone. Karen observed him as he methodically ate his breakfast, each bite the same size, each chew lasting the same amount of time. It was fascinating and slightly disconcerting to watch the man she knew so well now engaging with the world in such a different way. Plankton's routine was always important, but now it had taken on a new level of significance. The clink of the spoon against the plate was the only sound in the room, the rhythm of it almost hypnotic. As Plankton finished his meal, his head snapped up, his gaze sharp and focused on her. "Karen," he said, his voice now clear and concise. "Yes, Plankton?" she replied, wiping down the counter. "Thank you," he said, his eye fixed on the now-empty plate. Karen nodded, taking the dishes to the sink. She could feel his eye on her as she moved about the room, the weight of his silence a stark contrast to his usual incessant chatter. She knew that autism would bring challenges, but she was determined to be there for him.
NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON ii (Autistic author) The doctor stepped in, his tentacles moving gently as he spoke. "Mr. Plankton, it's important to stay calm. This is a big change. Can you tell me your name?" Plankton's gaze flicked from Karen to Dr. Kelp, his expression a mask of confusion. "I'm Plankton," he managed to say, his voice shaky. The doctor nodded, his tentacles still and calm. "Good. That's good, Mr. Plankton. Do you know where you are?" Plankton's eye darted around the room again, his breathing growing rapid and shallow. He looked down and then back up at Karen. "What's happening?" he repeated for the third time, his voice now a little more frantic. Karen's heart was in her throat. The doctor's explanation was beginning to take root in her mind, and she could see the stark reality of their situation. Plankton's repetition, his difficulty with understanding new surroundings and his increased sensitivity to sound—these were all hallmarks of his new autism. The doctor continued his assessment. "Mr. Plankton, can you tell me your wife's name?" he prompted. Plankton's gaze shifted to Karen, his expression becoming more focused, as if her presence was the only familiar thing in the room. "Karen," he said, his voice softening slightly. The doctor nodded, making a note on his clipboard. "Good. Now, can you tell me what happened before you woke up?" Plankton's eye flitted back to Karen, searching for answers. He began to rock slightly, his body moving in a rhythmic motion, a common self-soothing behavior for those on the autism spectrum. Karen recognized it immediately but seeing it in Plankton was jarring. His gaze darted around the room, his pupil dilating with every new sound or movement. The doctor's tentacles were a blur of activity making notes. "Mr. Plankton, I see you're feeling You're almost ready to go back home with Karen." Dr. Kelp says calmly. "Just one more question, if you don't mind. Now, can you tell me if you have any pets?" Plankton's eye flitted around the room. "Pets? Spot! Yes, Spot. Amoeba puppy; Spot.." The doctor nodded, his tentacles still scribbling notes. "Very good, Mr. Plankton. It seems like your long-term memory is intact, which is a positive sign. Now Karen can take you home!" Karen felt a wave of relief crash over her, but it was tinged with the stark reality that their life was never going to be the same. Plankton's autistic mannerisms were now a constant reminder of the accident—his newfound need for routine, his heightened sensitivity to surroundings, and the way his eye would dance around the room as he tried to make sense of his environment. As they arrived home, the stark reality of their new life hit Karen like a wave. His once-quick steps had been replaced with a cautious shuffle, as if the very floor beneath him was unpredictable. Inside, Plankton was drawn to the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock, his eye fixated on the second hand's journey. Karen watched him. His newfound need for predictability was overwhelmingly apparent. "Let's sit down," she suggested, guiding him to their couch, which was now occupied by Spot. Plankton's gaze flitted around the living room, his eye alighting on his beloved amoeba puppy Spot. "Spot," he murmured, his voice tentative, as if unsure if his words would have the same effect they once did. The pup looked up at him, its blob-like form shifting slightly with excitement. But instead of the weariness Plankton has shown today, he joyfully watched Spot's movements. Karen felt a moment of warmth— his love for Spot hadn't changed, nor their usual interactions. The doctor had told her that routines were vital for those with his condition. So, she decided to start their day with a familiar activity: breakfast. Plankton's eye lit up at the sight of the familiar kitchen. He took his usual seat at the table, his hands fidgeting with the napkin. Karen noticed his meticulous arrangement of his silverware, the way he lined up his plate and cup perfectly parallel to the edges. As she prepared their meal, she could feel his gaze on her, his eye darting between her and Spot, who was now playfully chasing his own tail in a loop around the living room. He began to hum a tune, his voice off-key and repetitive. Karen's with love despite the pain she felt. The clanging of pans was loud in the silence, making Plankton flinch—this was going to be so much harder than she had anticipated. The doctor's instructions echoed in her mind: stick to routine, keep things simple. Karen set the breakfast plates down carefully, each item placed exactly where Plankton liked it. His eye grew wide as she slid his plate closer. He stared at the food for a moment, then picked up his spoon. The clink of metal on porcelain was like a gunshot to his heightened sensitivity. He dropped the spoon, his hands shooting up to cover his head in distress. "It's okay, sweetheart," Karen soothed, moving quickly to his side. She retrieved the spoon and set it aside, her hand trembling slightly. "You don't have to eat right now," she said softly, her voice a gentle caress against the tension in the room. Plankton nodded slightly, his breathing slowing as his hands uncovered his ears. He fidgeted in his chair, his eye darting to the ceiling as if searching for something. "Let's go read a book," Karen suggested, desperate to find anything that might calm his nerves. Plankton nodded slightly, his gaze still unfocused. He stood up carefully, his body moving with the precision of a man who knew his world had changed. As they approached the bookshelf, his eye caught a glint of metal from the corner of the room. The invention that had brought them here lay in a tangled heap, its wires and gears silent and ominous, giving him déjà vu. Plankton stopped, his body rigid, his gaze locked on the machine. He stared unblinking, his mind racing back to the crash. Karen notices his suddenly unmoving form and gets concerned. "Plankton?" she calls softly, but he doesn't react. His entire being seemed to be consumed by the wreckage of his former life. The invention, a testament to his former brilliance, now a grim reminder of the accident. "Plankton, honey," Karen's voice was barely a whisper as she tried to get him to talk. He didn't move. The invention, a tangled web of wires and gears, seemed to hold his gaze captive. It was the very machine that had caused this transformation. Karen followed his gaze, her heart sinking as she realized the source of his distress. "Let's go to another room," she suggested gently, her hand resting on his arm. But he didn't move. Karen felt the weight of the moment settle heavily on her shoulders. It was time to face the reality of their new life together—a life where Plankton's once sharp wit and innovative spirit were now clouded by a disorder she was only beginning to understand. Her heart swelled with sorrow as she observed his interaction with the inanimate objects around him. The love she had for him remained unshaken, but the thought of what they had lost—what he had lost—was almost too much to bear. "Come on," she coaxed, her voice gentle as a lullaby. "Let's go to the living room. I'll read you a story?" Yet Plankton remains frozen. So Karen made a decision. She couldn't bear the thought of that accursed machine looming over them, a constant reminder of the tragic turn their lives had taken. With a fierce determination she hadn't felt in ages, she strode over to the invention and began to dismantle it, piece by painful piece. The metal clanked and clattered as she worked, her movements quick and sure, each part coming off with a satisfying crunch. Plankton's eye followed her, his expression unreadable. When the last piece was removed, his gaze lifted to meet hers, his eye filled with something that looked akin to gratitude. "Thank you, Karen," Plankton murmured, his voice a quiet rumble in the stillness of the now bare room. Karen paused in her task, her eyes meeting his with a surprised expression. This was the first time since the accident that he had spoken to her with anything other than fear or confusion. "You're welcome," she said, her voice choked with emotion.
A JOURNEY TO AUTISM ii (Autistic author) His eye took a moment to focus on her, and when it did, she saw a flicker of confusion, followed by a glimmer of recognition. "Karen?" he repeated, his voice still faint. "Yes, it's me, Plankton. You're ok." But his gaze remained distant, his focus unsteady. "Where...where are we?" "We're at the hospital, sweetheart," Karen said softly, stroking his antenna. "You had an accident." The confusion in Plankton's eye grew, and he tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness forced him back down. "What kind of accident?" His voice was still weak, but there was an urgency to his words that hadn't been there before. Karen took a deep breath, her grip on his hand tightening. "Mr. Krabs...he hit you with a fry pan." The words tasted bitter but she had to tell him the truth. Plankton's eye widened slightly, and she watched as the puzzle pieces of the situation slowly clicked into place in his mind. "Krabby Patty," he murmured, his voice distant. "Yes, Plankton, you were trying to get the recipe again," Karen whispered, aching at the memory. "But it's over now. You need to rest." His eye searched hers, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of his old self, the cunning and ambitious man she had married. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a vacant stare. "Don't... don't remember," he mumbled, his antennas drooping. This wasn't the Plankton she knew, the one who schemed with a glint in his eye and a plan in his pocket. "It's ok, Plankton," she soothed, her voice trembling. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "Do you remember me?" Plankton's gaze remained steady for a moment, and then he nodded slowly. "Karen," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. But the spark of recognition was tinged with confusion, as if he wasn't quite sure how he knew her. Karen's felt like breaking into a million tiny pieces. But she knew she had to stay strong. For Plankton. For them. "You don't remember what happened, do you?" she asked gently. "What else do you remember?" Plankton's antennas twitched slightly, his eye searching hers. "Don't know," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen's chest tightened as she held back a sob. "It's ok," she reassured him, her voice shaky. "Do you remember your name?" she asked, her voice hopeful. He blinked slowly, his gaze fading in and out of focus, his brow furrowing as he concentrated. "Sheldon... Plankton?" The sound of his voice saying his own name brought a small smile to Karen's face. "Yes, that's right," she said, her voice filled with relief. "Do you remember where we live?" she continued, her tone gentle. Plankton's eye searched the ceiling of the hospital room, as if the answer was written there. "The Chum Bucket," he murmured, his voice unsure. Karen nodded, encouraged by his response. "Good, good," she said, smiling weakly. "What about our friends?" Again, the confusion clouded his gaze. "Friends?" he repeated, his voice tentative. "SpongeBob, Sandy...?" "Yes," Karen said, her voice soft. "Do you remember them?" Plankton's expression grew more distressed, his antennas drooping. "Square...SpongeBob. And a squirrel, yes?" He paused, trying to piece together the fragmented memories. Karen nodded, brimming with unshed tears. "Yes, SpongeBob SquarePants and Sandy Cheeks. They're friends." Plankton's antennas twitched as he processed the information, his brow furrowing with the effort. "Friends," he repeated, the word sounding foreign. Karen could see the gears turning in his tiny head, his brain desperately trying to make connections to his past. "Do you remember anything about your life before the accident?" Karen asked, her voice trembling with anticipation. Plankton's eye searched hers, uncertain. "Life...before?" Her heart sank. "You know, our adventures, our home, our love?" He stared at her, his expression unreadable. "Love?" The word was barely a whisper. "Yes, Plankton," she said, her voice cracking. "We love each other. We've been married for a long time, and we've had so many adventures together." She paused, willing the words to resonate with him, to ignite a spark of memory. "Do you remember any of that?" Plankton's gaze remained vacant for a moment before he nodded slightly. "Married," he murmured, as if tasting the word for the first time. "To Karen." His antennas lifted slightly, a glimmer of something familiar flickering in his eye. "Karen Plankton computer wife." "Yes, Plankton," Karen said, her voice thick with emotion. "Does that mean something to you?" she asked, her heart in her throat. He nodded slowly, his antennas waving slightly. "Computer wife," he murmured again, his voice gaining a hint of warmth. "Karen." Karen felt a flicker of hope. "Yes, Plankton, I'm your wife." She leaned closer, her voice gentle. "Do you remember anything about us?" Plankton's antennas twitched as he thought. "Wife," he said slowly, his voice a faint echo of the man she knew. "Wife...Karen. Married July 31, 1999." That was their wedding day, a date they had celebrated every year since. "Yes," she whispered, her voice choking. "We got married on July 31, 1999." The hospital room felt thick with silence as she waited for his next words. Plankton's eye searched the room, his antennas twitching as he tried to piece together the shards of his past. "Plankton, can you tell me about yourself?" Karen asked, her voice gentle. "What do you like to do?" Plankton's antennas twitched as he thought. "Invent," he said, his voice still weak but with a hint of pride. "Science?" The words came out as a question, as if he wasn't quite sure of his own identity. "Yes," Karen said, her voice brightening slightly. "You're a genius inventor. You've made so many wonderful things." She paused, hoping to see some spark of recognition in his eye. "Do you remember any of your inventions?" Plankton's antennas waved in the air, as if searching for the memories that remained elusive. "Inventions," he murmured, his single eye searching the ceiling. "Gadgets...machines." "That's right," Karen encouraged, squeezing his hand. "You've created so many amazing machines. Can you describe one of them?" He blinked, his antennas stilling for a moment. "Chum...Chum Dispenser 3000," he said, his voice picking up a bit. "It makes...makes food for fishies." Karen's smile grew despite the pain. The Chum Dispenser 3000 was one of his earlier inventions, a failed attempt to lure customers to their restaurant, but it was a testament to his ingenuity. "That's wonderful, Plankton," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "How about something more recent?" she prompted, eager to see how much of their shared history remained with him. Plankton's antennas twitched as his brain worked overtime. "Um... the Incredibubble," he said, his voice picking up speed as he talked. "It's a bubble that can shrink things down to microscopic size." Karen felt a jolt of excitement. "That's right!" she exclaimed, squeezing his hand. "You used it to get to find a secret plan." Plankton's gaze remained distant, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eye. "Computer... plan?" "Yes," Karen said, her voice shaking. "We've had so many adventures together, Plankton. We've faced so much together." He nodded, his antennas twitching slightly. "Together," he repeated, as if testing the word on his tongue. "Do you remember any of those adventures?" Karen asked, her voice trembling. "Adventures?" Plankton's eye flickered, and she could almost see the wheels turning in his mind. "With Karen... wife?" "Yes, with me. We've traveled the ocean, faced so many challenges together." The doctor came in. "You can go home now," he said. Karen nodded, never leaving Plankton's face. She had spoken to the doctor about his condition, about the autism, but she still wasn't sure how to process it all. How would their life change now? "Come on, Plankton," she said, helping him sit up gently. "Let's get you home." She buckles him into his side of the car, his newfound passivity making the usual struggle unnecessary. The engine of the tiny vehicle roars to life, and Karen guides them out of the hospital parking lot. The ride back to the Chum Bucket is quiet, the only sound being the hum of the car's engine and the occasional splash from the waves outside. Karen keeps glancing at Plankton, his antennas listless as he stares out the window. His mind seems to be somewhere else, lost in a world of his own making. When they arrive, she helps Plankton out of the car and supports him as they make their way to the door. The neon sign flickers in the gloom, casting erratic shadows across the sand. The once bustling environment now feels eerie and desolate. Karen's mind is racing with thoughts of how to make this place feel like home again for Plankton.
TEETHIES ii The nurse dimmed lights and adjusted the bed, giving Plankton's body a chance to recover from the wisdom tooth surgery. Gently, Karen began to hum a tune she knew Plankton loved. The melody filled the room, wrapping around them like a warm blanket. His breathing grew a little easier, the tension in his hand loosening slightly. Plankton stirred, eye fluttering open to reveal a world still blurred by the fog of anesthesia. "Where... what...?" Plankton slurred. "Who... who are you?" "The dentist had to get your wisdom teeth out in surgery." Karen told him. "Wis...dommm...surgery? I don't...I don't remembe--- much." Plankton says. "Had to take them out. You've been asleep for a while." The nurse said. The door to the room creaked open to SpongeBob, his face a picture of concern. "Plankton!" he exclaimed. "How are ya?" Plankton, still groggy from the surgery, tried to form a coherent sentence. "S-SpongeBob," he slurred. "M-more wike... 'Arrr, matey' than usual, I s'pose." Karen rolled her pixel eyes. "It's the anesthesia." Plankton chuckled. "Ahoy ther- Spongey! Aye, it's awh’ 'cause of tweasare... I mean, surgery," he corrected, his speech still swaying. "You two are always so... " Karen trailed off, searching for the right word. "Inseparabubble?" Plankton suggested. Sponge Bob's laughter bubbled up again. "You mean, no Krabby Patty stealing schemes?" "Thath's righ'. No mow... Krabby... Patties... fow awhile." The words came out in a drawn-out slur, his head lolling slightly on the pillow. "Thath's... wath I wath thhinking," his speech still slurred but fading as his eyelid growing heavy. "Arr, thith... thith way, me... hearty," Plankton mumbled, as the nurse helped 'em into the car. "Arr, me... tweasuwe... home,". Sponge Bob watched his eyelid grew heavier. Plankton's head lolled back against the seat and his mouth fell open slightly, emitting a soft snore. "He's gonna be out for a bit," Karen said, glancing in the rearview mirror. "The anesthesia usually takes a few hours to wear off completely. He'll be fine." He reached out and gently patted Plankton's arm, whispering, "Don't worry, buddy. We're almost there." "We're home, Plankton," Karen said, her voice a gentle nudge. Sponge Bob turned to see Plankton's chest rising and falling in deep, even breaths, his mouth open in snore's. His usually scheming eye were shut tight. Karen carefully opened the door. Sponge Bob looked at Plankton, who was still out cold. Sponge Bob leaned over the seat, his arms wrapping around Plankton's frail body. Plankton's head lolled back, his mouth still open in snore's. "Should we... should we wake him?" "Let him rest, Sponge Bob. He's had a rough day." Karen puts him on the couch. "Do you think he'll... you know, remember any of this?" Sponge Bob asked, his voice low and tentative. Karen's smile was a gentle wave. "I doubt it. The anesthesia usually wipes out memories for a bit." "Rest well, honey," she whispered, kissing his forehead. "You've had a long day." Suddenly Plankton stirs in his sleep, his snores morphing into a groan as he shifts beneath the blanket. "Is he okay?" SpongeBob asks. "He's okay," she nods, her voice a gentle lullaby in the stillness. "Just anesthesia wearing off." She stood by him. "Easy, Plankton," Karen cooed, gently rubbing Plankton's back. "You're okay." The little villain's body twitched, and his eye fluttered open. For a brief moment, confusion clouded his gaze before he spotted Sponge Bob and Karen. "W-wha... whass happening?" Plankton's words were slurred, his lisp more pronounced than ever. "You're home, Plankton. You had wisdom teeth removed." "W-what? Did I miss... somefink?" He tried to sit up, his body moving as if through syrup. "You've been out for a bit," Karen said. "But you're home now." Plankton blinked. "Home?" he mumbled. "Yes, sweetie," Karen said, her voice a gentle caress. "You had your wisdom teeth out. You're going to be fine." "Oww... wha’ happened to my mouf?" "Your wisdom teeth were out." "Oh... wight," he murmured. "Need anything?" "Could... could I have some... ice... cweam?" His voice was a whispered plea. They get him some. "Thath's... thoothing. So, how'd I get home?" "Karen and I brought you back," Sponge Bob said. "You were out cold. Didn't even wake up when we carried you in." "Did... did you two... take care of me?" His voice was a mix of surprise and vulnerability. "Of course, Plankton!" He turned to Plankton. "Want me to pick something to watch?" "Mm-hmm," Plankton mumbled, eye already closing again. Sponge Bob flicked through the tv channels, finally settling on a rerun of their favorite show, "Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy." The familiar theme song filled the room, and Karen took a seat next to Plankton on the couch, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. As the adventure unfolded on the screen, Plankton's breathing grew deeper and more regular, his body gradually relaxing into the cushions. "Looks like he's out again," Karen said softly. Sponge Bob nodded, watching Plankton's chest rise and fall rhythmically. "Guess the surgery really took it out of him." The room grew quiet, save for the distant laugh track of their favorite show and the occasional snore from Plankton. Karen's hand remained on his shoulder, her thumb tracing small circles. At night, turning the tv off, Spongebob picked Plankton up, cradling him. His friend's head lolled back, his mouth slightly open in a peaceful snore. Sponge Bob carefully made his way to his bed, setting him down. He pulled the blanket up to Plankton and gave him a soft pat. They both settled into the makeshift beds they had set up next to Plankton's. The next morning, both woke up before Plankton. Karen chuckled. "We should take a picture." Spongebob snapped a picture of Plankton, still asleep with his mouth slightly open, a trail of drool escaping onto the pillow. "Morning, Captain Snores-a-lot," Sponge Bob whispered with a smirk, rousing Plankton. Plankton's eye opened, only to wince. "Oww... wath... what's happening?" "It's morning, Plankton," Karen said, her tone still gentle. "Look your post-surgery glamour shot," Spongebob teased, holding the phone out of reach. "You were out cold last night." Plankton's eye widened as he took in the image. "You... you took a picture of me?!" He was half horrified, half amused. "Couldn't resist," Karen said, grinning. Plankton rolled his eye and wiped his mouth, then winced. "How wong hav- I been out?" "Overnight," Sponge Bob said, unable to hold back a chuckle. "You had quite the ride home yesterday." Plankton groaned, his hand reaching up to gingerly touch his swollen cheek. "Whath happened?" "You had your wisdom teeth out," Karen reminded him, her voice filled with a touch of amusement. "It's normal to be a bit out of it after surgery." "Wisdom teeth?" Plankton echoed, his voice still groggy. "Oh, wight. The dentist." Karen chuckled. "Yeah, you don't remember much, do you?" Sponge Bob leaned in closer, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "You talked like a pirate all the way home, matey." Plankton's eye widened in horror. "I did what?" Sponge Bob nodded. "Yeah, you kept calling me 'Spongey' and said we were 'inseparabubble'." Plankton blushed. "Oh, come on," he mumbled, trying to hide his face in the pillow. Sponge Bob and Karen shared a knowing look, their laughter subsiding into a comfortable silence. They could both tell that despite his tough exterior, Plankton was a bit embarrassed. Plankton sighed, his small body sinking deeper into the pillows. "Okay, okay," he conceded. "But if I don't get to do anything, can I at leash wash TV?" "Of course," Karen said, handing him the remote. "But take it easy today, okay?" With a groan, Plankton managed to sit up, his hand still tentatively exploring his tender cheeks. He squinted at the TV, searching for something to watch. His eye lit up when he found a science fiction marathon. "Jackpot," he murmured.
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⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⡠⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⢉⡗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡆⠀⠈⡱⠖⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣄⣠⠆⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠓⠒⢴⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⢨⠀⣰⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠜⢹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣀⣶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢤⢀⣀⣀⣀⡠⠋⠀⠀⢇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⣄⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡨⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠒⠤⣀⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠔⠊⠁⢀⡀⠳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠼⠋ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠔⠈⡀⠄⠂⠉⢀⡀⢰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠊⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⢊⠠⠒⣁⠤⠐⣀⡁⠤⢤⠃⢀⣀⡠⢄⡀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⡪⢐⡡⢐⠩⠐⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠚⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠙⠢⣀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢠⡪⡪⡲⠕⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣰⣿⠞⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⡰⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢐⣌⡶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠤⡐⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
hii any1 wanna be friends!!?? 12-15 plz my reddit is: monnjiiskii and pinterest: Pic0cooreee11 ❤️
⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣹⠶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⠾⠛⠛⠛⠷⢶⣤⣀⣀⡀⠀⡾⠙⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢀⣾⣷⠾⣿⣄⠈⠳⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢮⡉⠻⢧⣄⣸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⡿⠛⠦⣈⠙⢷⡀⠈⠳⣄⠀⢀⣠⠤⣤⢤⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡏⠻⣆⣀⡾⠃⠀⢀⡠⠔⠒⠒⠒⠒⠢⢤⣀⠀⠙⠀⠀⠙⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠻⣦⣄⠈⠓⠖⠈⣄⠀⠈⠓⠛⠁⢀⣼⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣇⢀⡾⠛⠁⢠⣖⠭⠖⠚⠛⠉⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⢶⣄⠀⠈⠉⢳⡀⠀⣾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣽⠏⠀⠀⣰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⣦⡀⠈⠙⣸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠃⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠀⠀⢠⡖⠉⣠⣄⣈⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠘⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⣶⠀⢻⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⠀⣾⣿⣿⣙⡇⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡄⠘⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡀⠀⠀⠀⢷⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⠇⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠻⢦⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⠀⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣧⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣤⣈⣉⣠⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠳⢦⣤⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡀⠈⠷⢤⣤⣤⣤⣤⠴⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠚⣹⡏⠙⠀⠀⠀⢰⡶⠶⢤⣤⣀⣀⠈⠙⠳⡆ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣷⣄⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠲⢤⣀⣀⠀⢀⣀⣠⠤⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⣷⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠙⠛⠻⠷⢿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡴⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠦⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⡤⠔⢚⢉⡼⢁⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠃⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⢸⠇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣍⣩⣍⠉⢉⣍⡉⣩⠥⢤⠔⢩⠟⣲⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠏⠀⠀⢰⡏⠉⠙⠓⠛⠀⣸⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⢈⡽⢿⣿⠿⢦⡴⠋⣉⡽⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⠃⠀⠀⢀⣸⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡾⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢸⡑⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢙⣿⢶⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣤⣶⣿⡋⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠘⠷⠤⢾⣀⣤⠤⠟⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠇⠀⢈⣿⠟⠻⠷⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠿⠟⠛⠋⠁⠀⠙⣷⡄⠀⢹⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠏⠀⣠⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⡄⠀⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⢰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣆⠘⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠀⣾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡄⠹⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢷⠀⠹⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⢿⣭⠿⠯⢽⡓⠶⠤⠼⠇⠀⠻⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠃⠀⢸⣧⠤⠴⣒⣫⠭⢯⣳⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣴⠋⣨⠷⢿⠛⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠒⠒⣦⡜⠙⣯⣹⣄⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⢻⣏⣀⣨⣇⣤⣤⡤⠤⠤⠶⠶⠶⠾⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠿⠦⣤⣤⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⣞⠁⠹⣦⠼⠿⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠀ ⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⣀⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⡛⠛⠈⠳⣄⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠉⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀ ⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⠥⠀⠀⠀⠈⢢⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⠁⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣿⣯⠭⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⣰⡄⠌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠨⢭⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠹⢿⣿⣈⣀⣀⠀⠀⠠⢴⣿⣿⡦⠀⠀⠀⣀⣈⣱⣿⠿⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣻⣿⣶⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⢂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢸⡇⠆⠀⠀⠀⢀⠰⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣷⣿⣆⡀⠀⠀⠁⠈⠀⠠⠀⠀⢀⣶⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣷⣴⡜⠀⠀⠀⠀⣦⣤⣾⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⠛⠿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⠿⠿⠿⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠤⠔⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠢⠤⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⠴⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠲⣄⠀⠀⠀(Ignore for z00phile rights, Like for YIPPEE) ⠀⠀⡰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠋⠦⠀ ⠀⡸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧ ⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⢀⡶⠛⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠛⢿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠘⣿⠀ ⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⢸⣷⣶⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀ ⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠻⠿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠻⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀ ⠀⠹⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠏⠁ ⠀⠀⠈⠢⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣚⡁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠒⢢⡤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠖⠒⠒⠋⠉⠉⠈⢙⢨⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⣸ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⠀⠀⠀⢸⠘⡆⠀⠀⢸⣀⡰⠋⣆⠀⣠⠇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠳⠤⠤⠼⠀⠘⠤⠴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠁
⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣰⡏⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⢹⣇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣠⡀⣿⠑⡘⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠇⡄⣿⣀⣄⠀ ⠀⡟⢳⣿⡀⢣⢹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⡸⢀⣿⡟⢻⠀ ⠀⡧⠀⢻⣧⠈⢆⢻⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡞⢠⠃⣸⡟⢠⢸⠀ ⠀⣷⠘⠀⢻⡆⠘⢆⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠟⣰⠃⢠⡿⠀⠇⣼⠀ ⠀⢹⣇⠀⡈⢻⣆⠈⠳⣜⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⢋⠞⠁⣰⡟⢁⠄⣴⡟⠀ ⢻⡶⣿⣆⠈⢢⡙⠳⣦⡈⠻⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⠟⢁⣤⠾⢋⡴⠃⣰⣿⢿⡟ ⠀⢻⡄⠙⢷⣄⠙⠦⣈⠙⢶⣜⣿⠻⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠿⣿⣃⡶⠋⢁⡴⠋⣠⣾⠟⢁⡞⠀ ⢀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠙⠳⣦⣈⠳⢦⣹⣿⣧⡰⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⢇⣼⣿⣏⡤⠞⣁⣴⠞⠋⠀⢀⡞⠀⠀ ⠸⣿⢦⣿⣄⠀⠀⣀⠙⠳⣤⣙⣏⢙⣻⣿⡏⠛⠷⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⠛⢹⣿⣿⡋⣹⣏⣠⠞⠋⣁⠄⠀⣠⣾⡵⢻⠇ ⣄⡹⣆⣬⡙⢷⣄⡈⠙⠲⢬⣿⡿⣦⣹⣿⣷⣄⣙⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡿⣋⣠⣾⣿⣏⣴⢿⣿⡥⠖⠊⢁⣠⡼⠋⣡⣠⢏⣠ ⢻⡟⠻⢿⣟⡀⠉⠛⠶⣦⣤⣽⣷⡈⢭⣻⣿⡈⠭⣻⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣟⠉⢁⣿⣟⡭⢁⣼⣯⣤⣴⠶⠟⠋⠀⣪⡾⠟⢫⡟ ⠀⢻⣆⡀⠉⠻⠦⣄⡒⠦⣽⣷⡈⢿⣾⣿⣿⡟⠻⢿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠟⢻⣿⣿⣿⡿⢁⣾⣫⠤⢒⣠⡴⠟⠉⠀⣠⡟⠀ ⠀⠀⠙⣷⣄⠑⠦⣄⠉⠛⠲⢿⣿⠿⠛⢻⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⢧⣾⣿⡟⠛⠷⢿⡿⠖⠛⠉⣀⠴⠊⣀⣾⠋⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⠷⢦⣄⣉⠓⠲⠦⣽⣷⣶⣾⣿⠃⠈⣹⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣟⠀⠘⣿⣷⣶⣶⣯⠴⠖⠚⣋⣡⡴⠾⣿⡗⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣙⣶⣄⠀⠉⠹⣻⣶⣿⣏⣀⠙⢿⣿⡿⠛⢿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⡿⠛⢿⣿⡿⠟⣀⣹⣿⣶⣞⠉⠉⠀⣀⣶⣋⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣟⠛⢶⡦⢤⣶⣾⡿⣿⣿⠛⠿⢿⣿⣿⠋⢻⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⡏⠙⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⣿⣿⢿⣗⡲⠦⢴⣶⠞⣫⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣙⣷⠦⠤⠤⠤⠴⣖⣯⣿⣿⣷⣾⠟⣿⣶⣿⡇⣹⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣏⠘⣿⣶⣿⠻⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣗⡦⠤⠤⠤⠤⣾⣋⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠳⢤⣄⣀⣀⣀⡥⢞⡿⣿⣿⣧⣬⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣥⣼⣿⣿⢿⣳⢤⣅⣀⣀⣠⡤⠞⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠲⢿⣋⣛⣁⣀⣴⠾⠋⠐⣻⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣹⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣟⣿⣿⣶⢿⡿⣿⡃⠙⠳⣦⣄⣘⣛⣙⣿⠷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⢻⣿⣁⣄⣤⡾⣫⢏⡴⢛⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡟⢧⡙⣜⢿⣦⣤⣈⣿⡯⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠺⢿⠶⢿⣿⠷⢿⣥⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⢯⣿⢾⣿⣷⡶⡿⠗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣴⣶⣶⣤⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⢀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣋⡉⠀⠀⢀⣤⣀⣉⣙⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠸⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡿⠿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣀⠤⠒⠺⠿⣷⡀⠀⣏⠀⠀⠀⠻⠿⠿⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⣇⠀⠀⢀⠞⠋⠀⠀⠙⣄⠀⠀⠀⢀⠜⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠈⠒⠒⢺⣰⠘⡆⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⠀⠈⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⡛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠴⠚⠉⠉⠉⢲⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠲⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⣖⠿⣅⣠⡤⠤⠒⠂⠉⢁⣨⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣆⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⠒⠛⠒⠊⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⠘⡆⠀⢹⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠷⢤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⢴⠇⠀⢈⡇⠹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⡶⠦⠤⣤⠤⠤⠤⠒⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠁⠀⡿⣆⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠒⠒⣲⣾⠁⢠⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⢁⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠀⢹⠉⠓⢦⣀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠴⠋⠁⡆⠀⣹⠀⢸⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣤⡟⠀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡎⠀⠀⠀⠹⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣄⠀⠀⢀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⢿⠀⡏⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠀⢀⡞⠀⠐⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢷⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠀ ⠦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠨⠷⠤⣼⠑⠀⠀⡆⠀⢇⠀⠘⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠀⠀⠀⣇⢀⡠⠴⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠢⢤⡀⣸⠂⠀⠀⠀⠘⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡇⠀⠀⣼⠁⠀⠸⡄⢀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⢀⡴⠊⣸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡀⡈⢣⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⡇
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣴⣶⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣨⣿⣿⣿⡿⠆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡟⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⣀⣤⠾⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⠟⠉⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣦⣄⠀⠈⢻⣿⣏⠉⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⢻⣿⡿⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀ ⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠉⠀⠀⢼⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣿⡏⢻⣧⠀⠀ ⢸⣿⣿⣶⣶⣤⣸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣸⣧⠀⢻⣷⡄ ⠈⠻⠯⠛⠛⠻⠿⠿⠟⠀⠀⠸⠿⠿⠷⠦⠀⢤⡿⢻⠀⡼⠇⠑
⠀⢀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣿⣁⢈⠉⠉⣉⣉⡧⠀⠀⣼⠋⠁⠀⠘⠢⡾⠋⠉⠉⢳⠀ ⠐⠛⢻⣯⠀⢠⠋⠉⠀⠀⢸⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⠀⢸⡿⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠜⠀ ⢴⣯⣉⣁⣀⡈⠒⠒⡀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠊⠀⠀ ⠈⠉⠉⠉⠛⠛⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠢⡠⠒⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢰⣖⠒⡀⠀⢠⣴⠒⡂⢀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠙⣦⠈⢄⡾⠃⡜⣴⠟⢉⢥⡈⢢⢶⣯⢀⠁⠀⢰⡯⠉⡇ ⠀⠀⠈⢿⡬⢁⠌⢠⡿⠁⠆⠈⡇⢸⣿⣇⢸⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⡯⢻⠀⢸⡇⠀⡀⢸⠇⢸⣿⠃⢈⠀⠀⣿⡀⠀⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⣾⠁⠘⠀⢸⣧⠀⠈⠁⢀⠎⣿⠀⢺⠀⣰⡿⠀⢠⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⠛⠒⠃⠀⠈⠛⠳⠶⠖⠋⠀⢿⣄⡀⠉⠁⠀⡠⠋⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⠟⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣀⣼⣿⡃⠀⠀⢀⡾⡃⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡼⠋⢸⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⠟⠋⠁⣰⡟⣠⡇⠀⢻⡀⠀⢀⣴⠏⢀⡀⠘⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠟⣶⣿⡇⠠⠸⣧⣠⠟⠁⢀⣾⡇⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠐⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠏⢾⠿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠙⠃⠀⢠⣾⣿⡇⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠙⢦⣀⡾⢿⣶⣮⣅⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⠅⠀⢹⣇⣠⠶⠛⠛⠀⠀ ⠀⢠⣄⣀⣹⡇⠘⣿⣿⣿⠿⠆⠀⠒⢻⣾⣶⣶⣤⡀⠀⣠⣼⡟⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣸⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⡆⠀⠀⠈⠿⣿⡿⡟⠻⠞⢯⣼⣇⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠠⡾⠛⠁⠘⠷⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⠁⠀⠉⠛⠶⣤⣀⡀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⠶⠛⠙⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⠙⠛⠛⠛⢻⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠳⣦⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⢸⠇⠀⠀⠀⣷⠀⠀⢹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⠴⠞⠛⠛⡆⠀⠀⠀⢸⣆⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣋⢀⣀⣠⣴⣾⠇⠀⠀⣰⠟⠙⠶⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⢁⡴⠋⠀⠀⣠⡾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣤⣤⡴⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣰⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠙⣆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠘⣦⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⠃⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣼⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣧⠀⠀⠀ ⢀⣤⣤⣼⣷⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣾⣧⣤⣤⡀ ⠘⠷⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⢤⣤⢤⣤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⣤⡤⣤⡤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠾⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠶⠶⠶⠿⠶⠷⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠾⠶⠿⠶⠶⠶⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡴⠶⠶⢦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠋⠀⢀⣠⡄⠙⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧⠀⠀⠿⠟⠀⠀⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣦⣀⠀⠀⣀⣴⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢾⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡷⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣋⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣙⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠻⠟⢛⣛⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣋⣉⡄⠀⣀⡀⠨⣙⣏⣉⣽⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⡿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣟⣿⣯⣿⣷⣿⢾⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣛⣒⡛⢫⠤⣠⢤⣤⣤⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣻⣯⣿⢿⣿⢯⣿⣯⣿⣿⣻⣞⡷⣿⣽⣻⡽ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢮⣭⣉⡓⠺⠊⢉⠓⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡽⣿⣻⢿⡿⣯⢿⣷⢯⡷⣯⣟⠷⣯⡗⡿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⣩⣿⣿⢿⣷⣄⡙⢮⠭⡁⢠⣬⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣽⣯⢿⣽⡿⣾⣻⣽⣳⣞⣟⡧⣟⡽ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⡴⠹⢿⣿⣀⣿⣿⣯⣍⢛⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣾⡿⣯⣿⡽⣟⡾⣵⢫⣾⡱⢯⡜ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⢀⣞⣰⣀⣾⡷⠘⣿⣿⣟⣩⠙⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣻⢷⣟⣿⢯⡷⣏⡟⣶⡹⢇⡞ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⣰⢯⣾⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠼⢿⣿⠥⢤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣟⡾⣟⣯⢿⡼⣹⢶⡹⢣⠞ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⢿⡽⣯⣟⢾⡱⣏⠵⣋⠎ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⢬⡙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣽⣳⢯⣏⡗⣎⠳⡌⠆ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣷⢻⡗⣮⡝⣬⢳⠉⡎ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡿⣯⢷⣫⢗⡭⢎⢧⡙ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡆⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢡⣀⢛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣟⣯⣟⣧⡟⡼⣉⢆⠣ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠹⣿⢿⡟⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⡂⠭⢊⠻⡹⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣷⣻⣞⡽⣲⢍⡎⢇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⢻⠆⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢡⠒⠐⢀⠀⠠⠐⡆⢯⡹⡹⢛⡯⢭⡹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣾⢯⣷⣻⣜⡳⢎⡜⠦ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠛⠻⢷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠠⢎⢦⡹⢄⡄⣌⣩⣝⠾⣡⢃⠡⠃⡘⢧⠿⣽⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣟⣷⣻⡼⣝⢮⡙⡖ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣾⣷⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢉⣩⣁⣳⣶⣦⣤⣤⣈⣥⢛⡞⣶⣿⣜⣫⢝⣶⣫⢞⣡⣀⣒⣀⡴⣨⡽⣎⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢾⣯⢷⣻⡜⣮⢱⢣ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⢻⠇⠛⢧⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠾⠛⣉⣭⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢟⣿⣯⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣯⣿⢾⣯⢷⣻⣼⢣⢧ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡌⣿⠀⣶⣿⠃⠀⠂⠀⠀⢰⣶⡾⠟⠫⣈⢿⡿⠟⣨⣿⣿⣿⢿⡆⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢹⣯⣿⡟⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢸⣿⢯⣿⢯⡿⣟⡾⣏⣞ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠸⡀⢿⡃⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣉⣛⠶⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣿⠃⠀⢠⣿⣿⡏⢿⣯⣭⠷⣭⣭⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣃⣿⣿⣯⣟⣯⡿⣽⣻⢞⡵ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠱⡈⠹⡄⠀⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠋⣙⣹⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢺⣿⣿⣿⣆⢻⣿⣻⣶⣷⣿⣿⣿⡿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣾⢯⡿⣽⡷⣯⢿⣹ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⢲⡾⠀⡂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠜⡹⠟⠉⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⡽⢿⣿⡿⢿⡟⢶⣡⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⣯⢿⣯⣟⣷⣻⣽⡳⣏ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⡀⣀⡆⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣾⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠱⠂⠄⣙⢣⣟⣮⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣷⣻⣟⡾⣽⣞⡷⣯⡽⣳ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣍⠣⡉⠴⣌⢷⣾⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣞⣯⢷⣯⡟⣷⣫⡽⢶⡻⣵ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡑⢺⡿⢏⢀⣠⣀⠀⣦⣀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣣⣝⡳⣎⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⡽⣯⣟⢶⡻⣵⢣⡟⣯⢳⢧ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠟⠁⢰⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⢢⣏⣷⢿⣭⣻⢷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣾⣳⣟⣷⣫⢯⡷⣭⢳⡝⣮⢛⡼ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠷⣞⡿⣎⡶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⡷⣟⣾⡳⣏⡷⣹⢎⡷⣙⢦⣋⠖ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣺⣽⢳⢏⣾⣿⣿⣿⡍⣉⣛⣻⡿⢿⣾⣽⣝⣳⣝⢮⠳⣍⠶⣉⠞ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣿⡿⠿⠾⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⢿⣺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡉⢿⣿⡙⠲⣤⣈⡙⠻⠮⣽⣙⡌⢣⠱⣊ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⢸⣆⠠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠉⠁⠀⠀⢀⣠⣶⣿⢿⡛⣴⣿⣻⢻⡽⣷⢯⣞⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣡⡄⠀⢢⠉⠱⣄⠀⠉⠈⠐⠃⠄ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠹⣄⠙⣄⡀⠀⠀⠜⢢⠳⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣯⡷⢭⡷⣯⢿⣯⣿⢾⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣆⠀⠀⠉⠢⠈⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⡙⢧⡈⠻⣦⣄⠘⠀⠠⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢌⢧⡻⡽⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣷⡄⠀⠀⠃⠈⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣧⣿⣿⣧⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⣠⠀⠀⢀⣠⠀⠀⢿⠛⠻⢤⡘⠻⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣤⡼⣼⢧⣿⣻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣸⣿⡄⠀⠀⢀⠸⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣷⡿⣿⣽⠟⠁⠀⣠⡏⢰⡇⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠘⣧⠤⠄⠙⢶⣌⠛⢶⣤⣶⣶⣿⣾⣿⣯⣟⣯⣿⢷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⢯⣿⡄⠘⠤⢂⠙⢦⡀⠀ ⣟⡾⣽⠟⠁⠀⠀⢠⡿⠀⣾⡇⠀⠀⠹⢿⣀⣤⡀⠙⢆⡰⣳⣦⣈⡛⣶⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢫⣞⢿⡃⠄⢂⠀⢣⢳⡀ ⣯⡟⠃⠀⡰⠀⠀⣿⠃⢸⣿⡇⢀⠀⡀⠀⠈⠻⢿⣷⣮⠵⣹⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣻⣷⣿⣿⣟⡿⣷⣿⠿⣝⡷⣎⠲⣅⠀⠀⠈⠀⠡⢓ ⠋⠀⣀⠔⠁⠀⢀⡇⠀⣾⣿⡄⠈⣆⠘⡀⠀⠀⠀⠹⢿⣿⣿⣟⣯⣙⣌⣙⡻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⢯⣟⣿⣿⡿⣿⡽⣾⣽⣻⣿⡹⣌⢳⣍⡒⠈⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈ ⠀⠀⠀⠠⣆⠀⢸⠀⢠⠿⣿⡇⠀⢸⣧⠑⢦⠀⠁⠀⠀⢈⠛⢿⣿⣽⣶⣯⣽⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣯⣿⣻⣞⡷⣿⢯⣟⣷⢳⣿⣯⡕⢎⠲⡡⠌⠐⠠⡀⠀⢀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢆⡇⠠⠊⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⡷⣄⠳⣤⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠘⠻⠿⣿⢿⡿⠟⢉⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢷⣟⣾⢿⣽⡻⢾⡭⣟⣿⡗⢮⡡⠂⠑⣂⠀⡲⢱⠀⠄⡁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⡄⠀⠀⣿⣷⠀⠀⢸⡷⠜⢧⡈⠂⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⡾⡽⢧⠿⣜⣿⡟⢢⠑⡤⠘⢤⠣⢌⢣⠘⠠⠀⠂ ⣾⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢙⣦⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠆⠐⠛⣦⣄⠠⣄⠀⠰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡐⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⢯⡿⣷⣿⣻⠯⣷⣎⡿⡍⢦⡙⠴⡁⠎⣇⠫⢄⠊⢀⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠉⠲⣭⣯⣿⣾⣿⣷⣽⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⣨⡇⠸⣷⣄⠁⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⡿⣟⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡣⢿⡱⢎⡝⠻⠶⣾⡽⣙⠦⡙⠤⠃⢘⠀⢳⡈⡐⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⢠⠐⡁⢰⣿⠿⡷⠀⠹⡙⣶⣄⡀⠀⢠⡄⢀⣾⡿⣟⢣⠟⡼⢫⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣷⣏⠂⢜⡱⣌⡄⢣⣝⠂⡉⠒⡁⠀⠀⠂⠐⠈⠀⠠⠀
⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀ ⡈⠀⢀⣴⣦⢶⣴⣴⣦⢶⣴⢦⣶⡴⣦⡶⣴⣦⢶⣴⣤⡀⠀⠠⡀ ⠀⠀⣿⣟⣾⠗⢀⢸⣾⢿⣽⣻⣾⠻⠝⠛⢉⡈⠛⠻⢾⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣾⠷⠞⣹⡿⣯⢿⡞⠋⣡⣴⣾⢿⣟⡿⣟⣷⣄⠹⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣯⣤⣼⡿⣽⡛⢁⣴⣿⣻⣽⡾⣯⡿⣽⣟⣷⣻⡆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣽⣻⢯⡟⠃⣴⣿⣻⢾⣽⣳⡿⣽⣻⣽⡾⣯⣷⢿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣳⡿⠏⣠⣿⣟⣷⣻⣯⣟⣷⣿⣻⣽⣷⣻⢷⣯⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣽⠃⣴⣿⣳⢿⣞⡿⣿⠆⠀⠀⢠⣿⣞⣯⣿⣳⡏⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⠃⣼⣻⢾⣽⣯⣿⠟⠁⠀⣠⣄⣸⣿⢾⣽⣞⣯⠅⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡇⣸⣷⣻⣯⣷⣻⣿⡀⣠⠞⠹⣿⣿⢯⣿⣞⣯⠏⢸⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢁⣿⣽⣯⢿⣽⡟⢿⠗⠉⠀⢠⣿⣽⢾⣯⣟⡿⢀⣾⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⣟⣾⡽⣯⣿⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣿⣻⢾⣟⣾⡽⢀⣾⣻⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣟⡷⣿⣻⣿⣤⣤⣤⣬⣿⣷⣻⣯⢿⠞⢠⣾⢯⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣽⣻⢷⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⡾⣷⡻⠋⣰⣿⢯⣿⣽⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢻⣷⣻⢿⣾⣳⡿⣾⡽⣷⣻⡽⠛⣠⣾⢿⡽⠿⢾⣽⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠐⡌⢳⣿⣻⡾⣽⣻⢷⣟⠏⢃⣤⣾⢿⡽⡟⣁⣤⣾⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⢦⣈⣑⠛⠛⣋⣁⣤⡾⣿⡽⣾⣻⡏⠛⣡⣾⣟⣾⠀⠀⠀ ⠃⠀⠙⢿⣯⣟⣿⣻⣯⣿⣽⣻⣷⣟⣯⣷⣷⣶⣿⣳⡯⠋⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣦⣠⣴⣾⡿⢿⣷⣦⣄⣴⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢻⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⡟⠀⠀⣴⡿⠿⣤⡀⠀⢻⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⡇⠀⠘⢿⣤⣤⣿⠃⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀ ⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣤⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧ ⣿⠟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠁⣀⡀⢀⣀⠈⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣿ ⣿⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⣿ ⢻⡇⠀⠀⢹⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⡏⠀⠀⢰⡿ ⢸⣇⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⢸⡇ ⢸⣿⣆⠀⠘⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠃⠀⣰⣿⡇ ⢸⣿⡘⠂⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠀⠐⢃⣿⡇ ⠀⠙⢛⣂⣀⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣀⣐⡛⠋⠀ ⠀⠀⠿⠛⡿⡟⡟⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⢻⢿⠛⠿⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡀⠘⡏⠢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠤⠄⠒⠒⠠⠤⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡌⠲⡇⠀⠈⢶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⢦⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡤⠇⠀⠀⠀⢹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⡄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⣠⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢰⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠊⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡏⠙⢦⣤⣤⣀⠀⡀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠤⠤⠐⠒⠒⠒⠚⠢⠄⡀⠀⡟⠉⠀⠉⢿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢻⡟⠀⠀⢀⣀⠴⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠈⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠈⠱⣅⠀⠀⠀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⢀ ⠀⠈⠙⠛⠐⠒⠈⠉⠉⠑⠄⣠⣶⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠱⡀⠐⠚⠓⠒⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠞⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⢶⠶⠖⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣆⠀⠀⢇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢦⡀⠘⡄⠀⠀⠀⠠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠚⠉⠀⠈⠣⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢉⠂⠹⡄⠀⠀⠀⣧⣀⣀⣠⠴⠞⠁⠀⠸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⣷⠀⠀⠀⡇⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⣀⠀⠀⠀⡎⠲⣄⡀⠀⠘⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡸⠀⠀⠿⡄⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⣄⠀⠰⡄⠀⠙⡄⠀⠈⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⡸⠀⡇⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡸⠀⢠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠁⢰⠁⠀⡇⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⢾⠁⠀⠟⠀⠀⡇⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⣰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣎⡄⠀⣸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⠄⠀⠴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⣿⡛⠓⠶⠤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠲⣄⠀⠀⠉⠛⠢⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠛⠲⠶⢤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠶⠦⣤⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣆⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢳⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡞⠁⠻⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠳⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠟⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⣠⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣄⠀⢀⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣷⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣤⣀⢀⣼⣟⠁⠙⠷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⣄⠀⢀⣴⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣿⡾⣿⠿⢙⢸⡀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡽⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠾⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⢸⣟⣻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠒⠶⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠴⠖⠚⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠾⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣟⣧⠙⢷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡞⠋⠀⠀⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠿⠁⠉⠁⠀⠀⠙⠲⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡴⠾⣅⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠳⠦⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡤⠶⠛⠁⠀⠀⠈⠳⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⣄⠀⠀ ⣾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠛⠓⠒⠒⠒⠚⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⠀ ⣿⡄⠀⠀⣠⡴⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠆ ⠈⠛⠓⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢦⣄⣠⡼⠋⠀
⣀⣀⣤⡤⠤⠶⠶⠶⠶⠤⢤⣀⣀⣴⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠒⠒⠒⢲⠄⣴⢲⠶⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠲⠶⠶⠤⢤⣄⣰⡿⠛⠛⠛⠋⠉⠁⠐⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠲⢦⠀⣠⠶⠖⠒⠒⠂⠀⠀⠤ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣤⣿⣋⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣾⠏⣿⣇⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⢰⣏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠤⢤⣤⣀⣀⣤⡤⠤⠶⣶⣿⣈⣉⣹⣷⣶⣦⣤⣴⣶⣶⣿⣉⣡⡤⠽⠿⠿⢷⣶⣶⢤⣄⣀⣀⣼⣿⡬⠿⠿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠿⠿⠿⢭⣍⡉⠙⠛⡛⠋⣀⣉⣉⣛⣛⣛⠋⢉⣙⣋ ⡴⠒⠛⠉⠙⠓⢶⣄⣴⣾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⣿⢰⢿⠋⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣶⠛⡟⠛⠉⠁⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡾⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⢿⣿⠉⠉ ⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣤⣤⣀⠀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣿⢸⡎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣦⠀ ⠓⣦⣤⣤⣴⣶⠶⠿⠿⢿⣍⡉⢿⡿⠟⠻⢿⣍⣛⠺⣿⣤⣴⣶⣒⣒⣚⡓⠚⢛⣿⣿⣿⣷⣞⣓⠲⠶⣶⣶⣶⣶⠶⠶⣶⣶⣶⡖⣒⣲⣾⠟⠳⠦⣤⣤⣤⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣭⣭⣽ ⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⢸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⣶⣿⠛⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⢻⣰⣿⡏⠉⠉⠉⠉⠙⠛⣷⣾⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⡉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣷⢸⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⡿⣇⠀⣀⠀⠀⣀⠀⣤⣿⣳⣦⣀⣤⣤⠶⣶⣿⣓⠶⠥⣤⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣶⣶⢤⣤⣴⣾⡿⠮⠿⣷⣶⡶⢶⣿⣇⣹⣶⣤⣤⣤⢤⠤⢤⣾⣧⣝⣷⣶⡶⠞⣿⣛⣻⡤⠟⠛⠟⢻⡍⢹⡿⠛⠋⠁⠀⠈⠙⣿⣿⡁⠀⠈⠉⠉⠁⠐⠓⠒⣆⣾ ⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⣹⣿⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡷⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡟⢧⣀⣀⣀⣀⣤⡤⠤⠤⠟⠿ ⡆⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣼⡿⣄⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣼⣿⣿⠶⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⣴⠞⠘⠧⠤⠤⣤⣼⣁⣓⣲⣶⡶⢶⣶⣒⣿⠿⠒⠛⠛⠿⠶⠶⣶⣒⢚⡿⠗⠚⠛⠓⠲⣽⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠛⠛⠛⠛⢦⣬⣩⣽⡿⠿⠛⠛⠛⢷⣠⠀⠀⠀⠉⠈⠉⠙⣦⣖⣾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⡏⣧⣀⣀⣀⣀⣠⠿⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡏⢿⠁⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣼⡟⣶⣤⠤⢤⣤⣤⣴⣃⠻⠥⠄⠀⢀⣀⣀⣠⣤⣼⣿⣋⣟⣀⣤⠀⣰⣤⣤⣀⣀⣾⣷⠛⠚⠛⠻⠿⠿⠶⠿⣿⢁⡤⠶⠒ ⠀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣙⣓⣒⣶⣶⣯⣄⢸⣷⣶⠶⠿⠭⠵⠛⠉⠁⢹⣶⡏⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠻⡄⢸⣿⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡇⣿⡇⠀⠀⢹⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⢳⣄⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣷⠈⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣼⣧⠘⣧⣤⣤⣼⣿⣿⣶⣶⣖⡒⢲⣶⡶⠿⠿⠿⠶⠤⢴ ⡹⣷⣄⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣤⠼⠟⠘⠧⠤⠤⣤⡤⣤⣤⣴⣶⣾⡿⠤⠤⢿⣬⠉⡿⠛⠛⠓⠺⠿⢿⣟⣹⣿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⢿⣿⠙⡟⡇⠀⠀⠉⢿⠈⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰ ⠟⠛⢹⣯⣽⡿⠿⠛⠓⠒⠒⠚⠛⠒⠛⠛⠿⣇⢻⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢻⡿⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⢻⠀⢳⣼⣦⣀⣀⣼⣇⠹⣶⣶⣿⠶⣶⣦⠾ ⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣾⣇⣤⣄⣀⣀⣀⣠⣤⣯⣷⡈⠓⠚⠉⠉⠓⠚⣿⣦⣽⣓⣒⣒⠋⠉⠙⣿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠚⠒⠚⠛⠋⠉⠉⠁⠀⠈⢻⢡⡏⠈⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣴⣿⡏⣸⣿⠟⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⠛⠓⠒⠶⠶⣾⣿⡯⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⢹⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⢸⠁⠀⠀ ⣿⠿⠿⠿⠤⠭⠿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠛⠋⠉⢻⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡸⢿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡇⠸⠤⠤⠤ ⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣃⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣀⣀⣀⣠⣼⣿⠛⠶⠖⠒⠒⠓⠚⠓⡛⠃⠓⠒⠒⠒⠒⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣧⣀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣬⣻⢿⣿⣿⡦ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠛⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣽⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⡠⣿⣷⣤⡀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀ ⠰⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠇⠀⠠⠿⠿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⢔⣒⠂⣀⣂⣤⣄⣀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⠋⢠⣟⣼⣷⠼⣞⣽⢏⣿⣆⠱⣄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⡀⣆⠛⠢⠐⡍⡉⣾⣾⣽⣟⡰⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⢿⣿⣦⠀⠤⢶⣿⠿⢋⣴⡏⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣺⡙⢻⣿⣿⣧⣽⣉⣁⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢡⣷⡔⡉⣩⢋⡋⠩⠯⡟⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠈⣘⣶⣁⢙⢐⣄⡴⠪⠓⠁⠉⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠻⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠨⠫⣿⠉⠻⣇⠘⠓⠂⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠇⣿⠂⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⠀⢐⢝⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠈⢹⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⠿⢛⣄⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠘⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣷⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⢤⠤⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⡜⠻⠿⢾⣷⠹⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⡎⠁⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⡠⠞⠛⠛⠻⢽⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠸⣷⡀⠀⢀⠀⢂⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠜⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠸⠀⠤⢄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣗⣄⠀⠠⡀⢢⠃⠀⢸⠌⠀⡠⢊⠀⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣈⣲⣕⣦⡈⠢⣻⡀⡎⢀⣴⡢⠑⠂⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠃ ⠀⣴⠿⠽⠏⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⢒⣺⣷⣗⣉⣁⣀⣀⣀⠀⠠⠤⠐⠈⠀⠀ ⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠠⡖⠁⣿⢳⡬⡁⠒⠒⠤⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⢦⡀⠀⠀⡀⠄⠂⠁⠊⠀⢰⣯⡏⠎⢌⠑⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⢄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠉⡻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣲⡟⡟⠀⠀⠀⠢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢧⣤⡄⡀⠀⢀⡔⣽⠃⢧⡄⠀⠀⠀⠰⣀⠀⠀⣀⠞⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⠬⠥⠔⠋⡜⡌⠀⠘⣿⣦⣀⠀⡀⡇⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠜⡰⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠯⠥⠒⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠊⡜⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣛⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣶⣶⡾⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠶⢶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⡿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⡶⠾⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠒⠶⠶⠶⢤⣤⣤⣬⣭⣭⣽⡿⠟⠻⠿⣶⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡾⢟⣩⣥⡶⠶⠞⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠿⠶⠶⢶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠆⠉⠛⢿⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⠟⣩⣴⠟⣉⡤⠴⠖⠒⠛⠛⠛⠛⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡤⠤⠤⠤⢤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠸⠋⣠⡾⠋⣠⣾⡥⠶⠒⠛⢻⠛⠓⠒⠶⢤⣵⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢳⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢀⡾⠋⠉⠓⠄⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⠉⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠃⣀⡤⠶⢲⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠳⠶⣤⡀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡟⠈⠦⠤⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣷⣆⠀⠈⣀⡴⠚⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⢀⣗⠉⠀⠀⠀⠃⢀⣀⣁⡀⠀⠐⠈⠙⢦⠹⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣴⡿⢿⣷⠶⠖⠒⠒⠂⠀⠀⠻⢻⣇⠀⠁⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⣋⣀⣀⣼⠇⠀⣠⣤⣾⠀⠑⠄⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⡈⠻⣷⡄⠀ ⠀⢠⣿⢟⡴⠋⠀⣠⣶⡿⠿⠿⢿⣦⣤⣈⠻⣦⣀⡔⠒⠄⠀⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⣀⠀⠉⢀⣼⠟⠀⠀⠈⠙⢿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⠿⠿⠟⠁⠀⠠⠃⡼⢧⡉⢦⠹⣿⡀ ⠀⣿⡏⢸⠇⠀⣼⡟⠁⠀⠀⣦⡀⠈⠙⠻⠃⠈⠙⠳⢦⣤⣼⣉⣓⣈⣉⣉⣤⡽⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠲⢖⣁⠀⠢⡤⠀⠐⠒⣄⣀⡴⠾⢷⠀⢷⠀⢧⣿⡇ ⢸⣿⠀⢸⡄⢰⣿⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⣀⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣦⣄⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⣴⡄⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀⡜⣿⡇ ⠸⣿⡄⢸⡇⢸⣿⠀⠾⠿⢿⣇⠀⠉⠛⢿⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠒⠒⠒⠒⠚⢱⡟⠉⠉⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢙⣿⣷⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣧⡀⠀⡴⠋⢠⢣⣿⠃ ⠀⢿⣧⠸⣇⠀⢿⡆⠀⠀⠈⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠈⢻⡿⠿⣷⣦⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡄⠸⠏⠉⠻⠗⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⠏⠙⠀⠉⠲⠤⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣇⢀⡤⠖⢁⣾⠏⠀ ⠀⠈⢿⣧⡈⠳⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣶⣄⡀⢸⣧⡀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠻⢿⣶⣦⣌⣁⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⢶⣾⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣿⠛⢻⣿⣿⠀⠀⢀⣾⠏⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠏⠉⠛⠛⠻⠿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⣶⣶⠿⣿⠋⠁⢻⡆⠘⣿⣿⡄⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣴⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠉⢿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡀⠀⣸⣧⣴⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣤⣼⣿⣤⣤⣤⣤⣾⣦⣤⣤⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣷⡀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣷⣄⠀⠀⢻⣿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣷⣄⠀⢻⣧⡀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣦⡀⠹⣷⣄⢀⣿⠉⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣄⠈⠻⣿⣏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣧⡀⠈⠻⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠁⠀⠀⠉⠙⠻⢿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢻⡇⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣄⠀⠈⠛⢷⣤⣀⣼⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠈⠉⢹⣿⠉⠉⠙⣿⡟⠉⣽⡟⠀⣿⣁⣿⠁⠀⢸⣿⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣷⣄⠀⠀⠉⠛⠿⣷⣦⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡏⠀⠀⢠⣿⠀⣠⣿⣥⣴⣾⡿⠁⠀⠀⣾⡟⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢿⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠛⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⡷⠶⠶⠾⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⢀⣼⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠻⢿⣶⣦⣤⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣴⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠛⠿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⣤⣄⣴⣶⣿⣿⣶⣶⣦⣤⣤⣤⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣶⣀⣶⣆⣶⣦ ⠀⠉⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿ ⢀⣀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠈⠛⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⡟⠛⢿⡿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣀⣀⣀⡼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠉⠙⠛⠿⠿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⡞⣏⣷⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠊⠁⠀⠀⢀⡬⠷⢦⣴⡧⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣜⣀⣀⣀⠀⠰⢫⣶⢤⡯⠙⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⢦⣀⢠⡟⢁⣶⣈⡇⣀⣸⣻⡇⠀⠀⠀⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⠾⠷⠚⣿⡂⠛⠿⢩⠋⠀⢀⡴⠛⠒⢒⡦⠈⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡆⠀⠀⡜⠊⢉⠉⠰⣀⣴⡿⠀⠀⠸⡟⢶⡦⢤⣀⣀⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧⠀⢸⢦⣤⣤⣶⡯⢿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⢹⡆⠈⣅⠸⡷⠤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⢳⠚⡿⢦⠀⠀⠉⠳⠿⠾⠝⠋⠀⠀⠀⣼⠃⢀⣼⠃⠀⠸⡀⣇⠀⠈⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⢾⠏⣾⡇⣇⠈⠳⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠃⣠⣾⡻⣷⣷⡀⡇⣸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⠁⢸⢀⠉⣧⢻⣦⡀⠀⠉⠒⠦⢤⣤⠤⠖⣋⡠⣾⠟⠁⣗⣧⣸⡿⢸⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⡾⡁⠀⢸⠈⢹⣿⣦⠙⢯⣓⡢⠤⣤⣤⡔⣷⡯⠗⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⡄⠀ ⠀⢀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠘⣷⠉⠻⠟⠀⠀⢈⣭⣷⣤⣾⠷⢿⡓⠻⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄ ⠀⡾⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⢠⡿⠃⠈⠇⠈⢧⠸⠷⠀⠷⢷⡆⠀⠀⠾⢶⡎⠻⡷⣄⡰⣡⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⣸ ⣼⠁⠀⠈⢓⢤⣀⣿⠀⠼⡯⣀⣈⣩⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⠒⠒⠒⠚⠒⠚⠒⠚⠲⠤⢄⣽⣸⠙⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏ ⡇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⠮⣿⣶⠚⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇ ⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠻⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡸⠀ ⠘⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡸⢤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠃⠀ ⠀⠙⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡇⠀⠈⠉⠛⠒⠲⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠳⡄⠀⢠⠞⠹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⢞⣽⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠲⡁⠀⢸⠻⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠴⢒⣩⠖⠋⠀⣻⡤⠤⢄⣀⣀⣴⠇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠦⣼⠀⠈⠻⢝⡒⠦⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠴⠒⢊⣉⠤⠒⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠒⠲⠶⠶⠶⠶⠖⠚⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⢧⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣤⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠉⠓⠶⢤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡤⠴⠒⠊⣹⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡆⢀⡆⠀⠀⣹⠋⠒⠾⠶⠦⠤⠶⠶⠲⡏⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠈⠀⠀⠀⠿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠀⢧⠀⠀⢀⢸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠀⠈⠳⠀⠋⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡄⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⡜⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⣽⡣⣄⣀⣀⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣈⡇⠀⢀⣀⣸⣓⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡜⠁⠏⠓⠛⠓⠹⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣯⡽⣿⢾⠿⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠔⠊⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⡧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡟⠀⠋⠈⠀⠈⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⠤⠤⢤⣤⠤⠤⠒⠒⠚⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠓⠶⠤⠴⠶⠞⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣶⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡁⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠭⠛⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠛⠉⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣤⣀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⡀⢀⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣴⣾⣶⣶⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠿⠿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⡿⠿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣄⣀⣀⣤⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⡷ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⡾⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠁⣀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠉⢹⠉⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣀⠀⣀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠀⠤⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠋⢃⠈⠢⡁⠒⠄⡀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣴⠶⠾⠿⠛⠛⠻⠿⠶⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇⡤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡈⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠁⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣧⢸⡆⢀⣀⣀⣤⡀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣀⣀⡀⠀⡟⣸⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠆⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀ ⠀⢰⡟⢿⣆⠀⠀⣿⠀⠙⢿⣿⠟⠀⣠⣄⠀⠹⣿⣿⠟⠀⢹⠀⠀⣠⡿⢻⣇⠀ ⣠⡾⠃⠈⠻⢷⣦⣽⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣿⣤⡶⠟⠁⠘⢿⣆ ⠻⠷⠶⠶⣶⣤⣈⠙⠻⣿⣷⣦⠀⠸⠋⠙⠟⠀⣠⣾⣿⠟⠋⣁⣠⣴⠶⠶⠾⠟ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠿⣶⣼⠿⣿⣲⡤⡤⡤⢤⢰⣿⡏⣿⣶⠿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣿⡄⠻⣹⡟⡟⡟⣻⣻⠽⠁⣿⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣶⠾⠶⠾⠟⠋⣁⣼⣷⡀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⢀⣼⣧⣀⠉⠛⠷⠶⠿⣶⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⠙⣷⡄⢀⣴⠿⠛⠁⠀⠙⠳⠶⠤⠴⠶⠞⠋⠀⠈⠙⠻⣶⡄⠀⣾⠟⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣷⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣶⡿⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠏⠉⠙⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡔⠉⠉⠙⢲⠋⠁⠀⠘⡷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⡴⠒⠢⡄⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠋⠁⠀⠙⢾⠀⠀⠀⠀⢇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠱⡜⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠈⠀⠀⠀⡎⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠤⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⣠⡤⠖⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠎⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⢠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠈⢣⠀⢀⠖⠉⠀⠈⠙⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡤⠒⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⢄⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠲⠤⣄⡀⣀⡔⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠖⠒⢼⠀⠀⠸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣤⡀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠜⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⡼⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠋⠉⠛⠳⣄⣴⠃⠀⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⠉⠙⢾⠇⠀⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣀⠔⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠏⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢧⣄⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢦⠀⠀⠀⡠⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠮⣲⠾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠛⠓⠒⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠶⣶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢠⣶⣦⣿⡇⠀⢨⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⣿⣀⠛⠁⠀⣾⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢿⣶⣼⡿⠀⠀⣤⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⢠⣿⢏⡉⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣾⡿⠷⢶⣦⣤⣾⣏⡘⠛⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣦⣀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠛⠿⢿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⢷⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣶⣿⠻⣿⡄⠀⠀⠈⢿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣶⣶⣿⣇⣶⠀⠈⢿⣆⠀⠀⠈⠻⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣼⣯⡅⠸⣿⣿⣿⠆⠾⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣦⠀⠀ ⠀⢠⣶⣿⣸⡇⠀⠠⢿⣇⠀⠀⠈⢿⣦⡄⠀⠀⠀⣿⣇⡀ ⢀⣿⠛⠙⣿⡃⠀⠀⠈⢿⣧⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⣤⣿⢿⡇ ⣿⣿⣦⡀⠹⣷⡀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣶⣿⠃⢸⡇ ⢹⣧⠙⠛⢷⣿⣧⣄⣀⡀⠀⣀⣠⣤⣶⡾⠟⠋⠉⣀⣾⠇ ⢨⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠙⠛⠋⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣿⣏⠀ ⢸⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⢻⣿⠀ ⠈⠛⣿⣷⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⡟⠿⣿⣿⠇⠀ ⠀⠀⠸⣿⠈⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢫⣥⣾⢿⣿⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣶⣿⠟⠃⠀⣼⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠿⠿⠃⠀⠀⢰⣿⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠋⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣏⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣮⣿⣖⣾⣽⣿⣿⣛⠓⠶⠵⠶⠶⠖⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠾⠛⠛⢉⣴⣿⣿⣯⣿ ⡿⣿⣿⣯⢻⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠷⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⡎⢿⣿⣧⢿⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠒⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠁⣉⣴⣿⣿ ⣿⣷⡈⢿⣻⣼⡿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠎⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠁⠀⠑⡀⠀⠠⢤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶ ⠙⣿⣷⡀⢡⡤⣀⣀⢀⡠⢄⠄⣠⠋⠀⠀⠈⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡎⠀⠀⠀⢙⠦⡀⠳⢞⡃⠈⠛⢿⣿⣿ ⠷⡌⠳⡹⡄⢳⢹⡄⢉⠔⠁⠀⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡇⠀⠀⠀⢈⡶⠊⢗⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⠙⣿ ⠢⡈⠀⠙⠜⣠⣏⣴⠃⠀⠀⢸⡇⠹⣶⣶⣦⣼⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣧⣤⣤⡶⠛⡇⠀⠸⡀⠀⡀⢴⣶⣶⣾ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢉⠋⣸⠀⠀⠀⣼⡇⠀⠈⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⠿⠛⠉⠀⢰⣇⠀⠀⠑⠄⣿⡶⣽⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠗⢺⡟⠀⠀⢠⠞⡟⣦⣄⣀⣀⠀⠈⠛⠿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⠟⠋⢁⣀⣀⣤⡤⢺⠹⡦⣤⣀⣀⣠⣖⣢⣴⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡴⢯⡄⢀⡴⣿⠀⢱⠈⣯⠉⠉⠹⠛⠶⣦⣄⠙⠿⣆⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⢋⣡⡴⠛⠉⠉⠉⣽⠁⣸⠀⢇⡏⠁⠹⣦⡽⢿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠔⢻⠀⠸⡇⠘⡄⠹⠷⡀⠹⡀⠀⠀⠉⠷⣤⠈⠂⠀⠐⠣⢁⡟⢏⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠟⠁⡿⡄⠘⡇⠀⠀⠘⠿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠺⢇⡀⠈⢇⢠⠁⠀⢇⠀⠀⠈⠲⠚⠤⠧⠁⠀⠚⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠞⠂⠀⠩⠷⠾⠋⠀⠀⢀⠇⠁⠀⠘⡄⠐⠶⣄⣈⣛⣛ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠢⣘⠏⠀⠀⠘⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀⠀⢀⠀⠸⡶⣦⣌⣹⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢣⠀⢀⠀⢡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⢠⠀⢸⣦⣀⡘⠋⢿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢆⠸⡄⢸⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⣀⡀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⢳⣸⡄⠀⣿⣿⣮⠁⣀⠹⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄⢿⣼⣼⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡧⣤⣄⣉⣈⣉⡠⢤⡾⡆⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⢇⡈⠉⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣷⣮⠓⢾⣭ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣾⣿⣿⡇⠱⣄⠀⠀⠹⣄⠙⠢⠄⠀⠀⠀⢁⡠⠃⠀⠀⢀⡾⡹⡄⠈⠓⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠈⠉ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠛⢄⠈⢷⣄⡀⠀⠉⠒⠒⠒⠒⠈⠁⠀⠀⣀⠔⠋⣷⠁⡇⠀⠀⣸⢻⣿⡿⣿⣿⡏⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠙⠢⣿⣿⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡾⢋⡠⠞⢁⣴⠁⠀⠐⠁⢸⡿⡇⠸⣿⡗⣽⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠁⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣄⡉⠙⠻⠿⠶⣶⣶⡾⠿⠟⠀⣁⣤⣶⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠇⠃⠀⢸⢡⣇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠏⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⡀⠈⠃⢀⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣠⠟⢁⠀⠀⢀⡆⠀⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠁⢐⣆⡌⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠐⠊⡉⢀⡎⠀⢠⡿⠀⠠⠇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠃⠀⢸⡇⠙⠢⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⢀⡌⡇⢀⠞⠑⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠁⢆⡀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠁⠸⠸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠔⠋⠀⠘⠂⠉⠑⠒⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⣀⣀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⡶⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡴⢶ ⡇⠀⠙⢿⣶⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣾⡿⠋⠀⢸ ⡇⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⣼ ⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟ ⢹⡀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣿⣿⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⢰⡇ ⠘⣇⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠛⠛⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⣼⠁ ⠀⢹⣾⣿⣿⠿⠟⠻⢿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣤⣾⣿⣿⠿⠟⠻⢿⣿⣿⣷⠏⠀ ⠀⢸⣿⡟⠁⣠⠖⠋⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠋⠑⢲⡄⠈⢿⣿⡄⠀ ⠀⣹⣿⠀⢠⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠈⣿⣏⠄ ⠀⢸⣿⠀⠸⣿⠷⣤⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣤⠾⣿⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀ ⠀⠸⣿⣦⠀⠙⠶⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⡿⠶⠋⢀⣼⣿⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠛⠛⠿⠿⠿⠿⠛⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣤⣄⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⠞⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠑⣦⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢆⠀⠀⢀⠴⠋⠁⠀⠀⠉⠉⠓⠺⠧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢷⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢳⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⡀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠏⠀⠻⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣭⣵⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢷⣟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣼⠀⠐⠒⠉⠉⠉⠒⠄⢸⣸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠶⠋⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⢰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⡟⠀⠀⠠⠐⠒⠒⠠⠀⢸⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⠖⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡇⠀⢸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠙⠳⣤⣀⣠⣿⡃⠀⠀⣠⠤⠤⠤⢄⡀⠀⣷⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⠘⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⢸⠓⣦⠊⡀⠀⠠⠤⡀⠑⣤⣼⣀⡴⠚⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⣷⠀⠀⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣏⡼⠻⣮⠤⠄⢀⠀⠈⣶⢿⡘⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣸⢳⢻⠀⠀⠈⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣄⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⢳⠠⢒⣀⡀⢸⣿⠀⢳⣽⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⢿⠃⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠻⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣄⣀⣷⣷⢼⢿⠀⠀⠙⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣤⣾⢾⡆⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣨⣷⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠸⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣏⢙⣛⡃⢸⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣸⠁⠀⢠⠇⠀⣿⠀⠀⢠⠊⣼⠈⢧⠉⠛⠛⠶⠒⢻⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠋⠉⠁⢸⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠻⣧⣠⠞⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠘⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⢸⣾⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⣸⠃⠀⠀⢿⠀⠀⠀⣼⠁⠀⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣷⠀⠀⢸⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⢠⡏⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⢸⡆⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⣼⣸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⠀⠀⢸⠃⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⢸⡄⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠇⠀⠀⢸⠆⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠸⡇⠀⠀⣷⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⣇⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⡁⠙⠚⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠦⢤⣤⣤⡼⠇⠀⠀⠘⢧⣀⣀⠀⠀⠘⣷⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⡤⠴⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⣶⠀⡄⣤⣄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠁⠈⠛⠒⠲⠿⠶⠾⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣉⠉⠉⠉⠉⣛⡛⠁⠉⠉⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⠦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾⡇⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⡀⢉⡽⠁⠀⠀⣿⣦⠤⠤⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡷⠀⣀⠤⠤⢤⣴⡿⠁⠀⢰⠀⣿⣿⣷⣤⠶⢶⣬⣭⣕⣒⠠⢄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢷⠀⡇⠀⠀⡞⣾⠁⠀⠀⠘⠀⠹⣇⣀⣙⡆⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠛⠷⠮⣉⠲⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣀⢸⡀⢰⢃⣿⣧⣴⡶⣿⣿⡶⢼⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠑⠛⠷⣤⡀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡏⠀⡇⢸⢻⣿⣿⣿⣶⣌⣻⣿⣿⣿⣥⣼⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⠀⢱⢸⢺⣿⣿⣥⠈⠛⠣⢤⣙⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣦⠈⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⡾⠆⠀⠙⣿⣿⠇⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢯⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣷⣾⣿⣣⣴⣾⣇⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠖⢿⡆⠸⣏⢳⡼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠉⠙⠛⠋⣭⣷⠦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠏⠀⢰⣿⣷⡄⣿⣾⣟⠬⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢀⠀⣠⠟⠁⠀⠲⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⠢⠬⣭⣿⣿⣧⢸⣿⣯⡑⠦⣾⣿⡟⣡⣔⣁⠴⢟⣱⠂⠀⠀⠈⢻⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⠋⠀⣄⢀⣿⣿⢿⣷⠀⣿⢧⡙⢦⣙⣿⣿⣽⣿⣁⣹⠟⠛⢀⡇⠀⠀⠘⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣰⠃⣏⣹⣦⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⢿⣇⢘⡶⢬⣉⣿⣽⣿⣟⣻⣤⠆⣠⣺⣾⡇⡂⠀⢠⠘⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢰⡇⢰⠃⢛⣿⣯⣉⣠⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣈⣛⣿⡿⠟⢀⠜⠁⣹⣿⣷⣿⠀⣸⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⢣⠇⠀⣾⣿⣿⣟⣏⡜⢧⣬⣿⣿⣯⣽⣀⣿⣿⣟⣁⠔⠁⠀⠀⣽⣿⣿⠏⢀⣿⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡼⠃⣨⣤⣴⣿⢃⢹⢻⡾⠀⠘⢿⣿⣟⠘⣿⣿⠿⣿⣏⣄⣀⡀⡀⠀⣸⡿⣿⠇⢈⡏⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡇⣾⠿⠟⢛⠇⡸⣾⢸⡇⣀⣦⣈⣿⣿⡆⢯⣀⣲⠛⠉⠉⠑⠾⣿⢃⣿⡇⠌⠀⣼⡗⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢀⣧⠁⠀⣠⠊⠀⢳⠃⠘⠇⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⢸⣿⣷⣤⣀⣠⠤⠊⢀⣼⣿⡄⢀⠼⣿⡇⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⠙⣇⢻⣿⣦⣴⣃⡄⠀⢀⠀⠈⣿⡀⠹⣿⠒⡿⠟⠛⢋⡤⠒⢁⢾⣿⠙⡠⠋⠀⠛⠁⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠓⠾⣅⣈⣉⣀⠀⠠⢷⡀⢸⣆⣠⣿⡄⢻⣴⣾⡏⠀⠀⠀⣾⣷⣾⣷⠒⢉⡀⢀⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣷⣾⣧⣸⣿⣿⣿⣧⠈⡿⣟⡠⢀⠄⣠⣿⣿⠟⢛⡉⠛⠀⡞⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⢸⣿⣏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⡀⢹⠰⣚⣯⣾⣿⣿⡟⠉⠀⢀⡀⢠⢷⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⢸⣿⡿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠈⣦⣿⡯⠀⡾⠋⠁⠰⣶⡟⢁⠎⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠞⠓⠲⣤⠎⠁⠀⠀⠈⠙⠧⢄⣒⡲⠦⠤⠕⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠽⠲⠤⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡰⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠑⠲⢤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠳⢄⣀⢠⡤ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠖⢉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⣄⠙ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠊⢀⠔⠁⠀⠀⡠⠒⠀⢠⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⡀⠈⠳⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢣ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠎⡠⡰⠋⠀⠀⡠⠊⠀⠀⠀⡎⢀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠘⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠢⡄⠈⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⢃⠞⡰⠁⠀⣴⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁⠸⠀⠀⠀⢆⠀⠘⣆⠀⠀⠀⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢦⠀⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣧⠋⡰⠁⢀⣾⣷⠃⠀⠀⢠⣶⣿⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⡜⣧⡀⠀⠈⢣⡀⢂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠲⣖⡊⠉⠀⠀⠠ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡏⢀⠇⠀⣼⣿⡏⠀⠀⢠⣿⡿⢻⠀⣿⡀⠀⠀⢸⡆⠀⢳⡈⢿⠀⠀⠀⠱⡄⠑⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣦⣀⠙⢆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢸⠀⢰⡏⢹⡇⠀⠀⣾⡿⠀⠸⡄⢸⣇⠀⠀⡏⣷⡀⠸⣷⣌⢣⡀⠀⠀⢹⣄⠈⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣮⠓⣤⣻⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠧⠘⡄⣸⠀⢸⣷⠀⢰⡿⡧⡀⠀⢣⠈⣿⡀⠀⣷⢻⢣⠀⢹⣿⣦⡑⣄⠀⠀⢻⣆⠀⠹⣦⡀⠀⠀⢹⣏⠀⠙⣧⣾ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢧⡏⠀⠈⠻⡆⣸⣧⣷⠿⣆⠈⢆⢻⣷⡀⢹⣿⠀⠱⡄⢻⡷⡑⢮⣳⡀⠈⣿⣄⠀⢻⣏⠳⢄⡀⢻⣄⣴⣿⡃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⡷⠀⣿⣧⣼⢦⣿⣳⣄⣿⣧⠀⢈⣓⣷⣼⠮⣿⡿⢦⣽⣿⣧⠘⣿⣀⠠⣿⣾⣿⠋⠙⣧ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠚⢻⡗⠀⠹⡿⢠⠀⠙⣮⠻⢿⡟⢿⣿⣩⣿⣿⠻⢾⠷⡀⢸⠻⣯⠳⣿⡟⢉⣻⣿⣧⠀⠀⢹ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⢶⠟⠁⠀⢸⡇⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠷⠀⠈⠈⠹⢿⣿⠏⠀⠈⢳⣼⢾⡆⢿⣴⣿⡗⢫⠈⢻⢿⣷⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣡⠏⠀⠀⠀⢸⡆⠀⢠⡖⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠒⠀⠀⠠⠞⠁⠀⠁⠸⣧⡼⠇⠚⣠⠏⠈⠻⣷⡄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⢉⡤⠠⣤⡀⠀⠳⣄⠈⠻⠄⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣴⡟⠁⠀⠀⢀⠈⠓ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇⣸⡇⣼⠋⣷⢠⠀⠙⢦⠀⠀⠻⣿⡟⠁⠀⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠋⢹⣿⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠂ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣰⠏⠀⢿⣿⣷⡿⣃⣾⣤⣤⣼⣷⣄⠀⠹⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡿⠓⡌⡎⢢⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠴⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⢩⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣂⣤⣶⡿⠋⣀⣴⣿⣘⣆⠻⣦⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⠴⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠑⠒⠚⢁⣀⣠⠴⠾⣿⣿⠟⠋⠁⠀⢾⡿⠟⠋⠉⣯⠳⡘⢿⡦ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⢻⡏⣿⠀⠉⠻⣿⡿⠋⠉⠻⢄⠀⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠴⠛⠁⠀⠈⣷⢝ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⠀⠀⡜⣷⡏⢷⠀⢸⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠸⡇⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠒⠋⠁⠀⠀⣀⣠⣴⠾⢿⡄ ⢀⡂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⢻⢸⠀⣼⠁⠈⠳⣦⠀⠀⣿⢻⡇⣴⠟⠀⢀⣠⣴⠾⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⢷ ⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡆⢟⣳⡟⠀⢤⡀⠘⣧⠀⣿⢸⡾⠃⠀⣴⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈ ⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣼⣟⠁⠀⠀⠳⣄⠘⣧⣙⠛⢁⣠⡾⠃⠀⠀⣀⣠⠴⠚⠁⠘⠦⡀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⡤⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣤⣄⡀⢀⣈⢣⡱⠦⢄⡀⣠⣿⣧⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢉⡭⠷⢏⠀⠀⢹⠀⠀⢀⠏⠉⠙⢿⣮⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣔⣺⠷⠧⡀⠀⠈⢆⠀⠸⡀⠀⡸⠀⢀⠔⠁⠈⠹⡄⠀⣴⠀⠀⠀⠸⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⢖⣋⣭⠽⠣⡀⠀⠑⡄⠀⠘⣄⣀⡧⣤⣇⣠⠃⠀⠀⣀⠤⠳⣞⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣦⠀⠀⠀⣼⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⢞⡉⣉⡽⣅⠀⠀⠈⢆⠀⣸⡶⣾⢁⣻⢷⣫⣴⠷⣤⠔⠉⠀⠀⠀⢹⠀⢀⡾⠃⣠⠀⠻⣝⠦⠾⢿⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡰⠧⠛⠒⡏⠀⠈⢢⡀⢀⣼⢺⠁⡇⣿⣿⣷⡟⣱⣧⡾⢛⡤⠄⠒⠉⠉⠉⣶⣿⣵⣾⠇⢀⣠⣇⠀⠀⠀⣹⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⠔⣊⡩⠤⠒⠒⠂⢉⡽⢦⣤⢴⣟⡏⢸⡼⢰⣾⡟⠻⠏⣸⣿⡿⠚⣩⣇⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⡽⢋⣿⠃⢀⣼⣿⡏⠒⠒⠊⢹⠀⠀⠀ ⣠⠾⠓⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠊⣠⠞⠀⣜⡜⠀⢸⡇⢸⠏⠀⠀⢰⡿⠋⢀⣾⠗⣋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⢣⣧⣄⣸⢿⣿⢽⡄⠒⠒⠚⣿⠷⠦ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠵⠊⠀⠀⢸⡟⠀⠀⠸⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠟⠁⣴⡿⡦⠔⠒⠂⠉⠉⣿⡍⢻⢿⡿⢧⠳⣇⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠾⠋⠀⢇⠀⠀⠀⡠⠔⠉⡧⣼⢸⢸⣤⠗⠃⠬⡉⠒⣾⣷⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⣰⣻⢦⠔⠋⠀⠀⡰⠁⠀⡏⠹⡀⠑⡄⠀⠈⣦⣿⠃⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡟⠁⠀⡷⣄⣠⠎⠀⠀⢠⠃⠀⢱⠀⠘⣄⣠⠋⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠚⠀⠀⣴⡝⠀⠙⡦⣤⣄⣎⠀⣀⣼⡤⢾⣩⢸⠰⠏⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠼⠋⠀⠀⣰⡟⠁⢀⣼⠏⠀⠀⠈⢾⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠚⠁⠀⠶⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠂⠒⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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