Diecore Emojis & Text

Copy & Paste Diecore Emojis & Symbols ┼┼┼┼┼┼┼┼┼┼┼┼┼┼┼┼┼┼┼┼┼┼┼┼┼┼┼┼┼┼┼┼┼┼┼┼███▀▀▀██┼███▀▀

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ᴿᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ˡᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ’ᵗ ⁿᵉᶜᵉˢˢᵃʳⁱˡʸ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵉⁿᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵘⁿᵉʳᵃˡ ʰᵒᵐᵉ ᵒʳ ᵐᵉᵐᵒʳⁱᵃˡ ˢᵉʳᵛⁱᶜᵉ‧ ᴬ ᵗᵃᵖʰᵒᵖʰⁱˡᵉ ⁱˢ ᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉˢ ᵃⁿ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵉˢᵗ ⁱⁿ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳⁱᵉˢ⸴ ᵗᵒᵐᵇˢᵗᵒⁿᵉˢ⸴ ᵒʳ ᵐᵉᵐᵒʳʸ ᵒᶠ ᵖᵃˢᵗ ˡⁱᵛᵉˢ‧ ᵀʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ˢᵒ ᵐᵃⁿʸ ᵈⁱᶠᶠᵉʳᵉⁿᵗ ʳᵉᵃˢᵒⁿˢ ʷʰʸ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳⁱᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ˢᵒ ᵐᵃⁿʸ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵈᵒ‧ ᴴᵃᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ? ᴰᵒ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ᵗʰⁱˢ ⁱˢ ᵒᵈᵈ⸴ ᵒʳ ᵈᵒ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˢʰᵃʳᵉ ᵗʰⁱˢ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵉˢᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ? ᴰᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʳᵉᵃᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᵖⁱᵗᵃᵖʰˢ? ᵀʰᵉʸ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵖʳᵒᵛᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ ʷʳᵉⁿᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴳᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵍˡⁱᵐᵖˢᵉ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ’ˢ ˡⁱᶠᵉ⸴ “ᴮᵉˡᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ⸴ ᔆʷᵉᵉᵗ ᴬⁿᵍᵉˡ”‧ ᵂʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵇᵒʳⁿ⸴ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵈⁱᵉᵈ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ˡᵉᵃʳⁿ ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʳᵉᵃᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵒᵐᵇˢᵗᵒⁿᵉ‧ ᴰⁱᵈ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ⸴ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ⸴ ᵖᵃʳᵉⁿᵗˢ⸴ ˢᵖᵒᵘˢᵉ? ᵂᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉʸ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵉʳᵛⁱᶜᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿ ᵉˣᵖˡᵒʳᵉʳ ᵃⁿ ᵃʳᵗⁱˢᵗ⸴ ᵃ ᵖᵒᵉᵗ? ᴵˢ ⁱᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗʸ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳⁱᵉˢ? ᵀʰᵉ ᵖᵃʳᵏ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ˢᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵒʳⁿᵃᵗᵉ ᵗᵒᵐᵇˢᵗᵒⁿᵉˢ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵃᶜᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵉʳᵉⁿⁱᵗʸ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵈᵉᶜᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒᵐᵇˢᵗᵒⁿᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ʷᵒᵒᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ᵍʰᵒˢᵗ ᵗᵒʷⁿ‧ ᴿᵉᵐⁿᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵒᶠ ʸᵉˢᵗᵉʳʸᵉᵃʳ‧ ᴬ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ ᵒᶠ ᵃ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ⸴ ᵒᶠ ᵃ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʷʰᵒ ˡⁱᵛᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈⁱᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ‧ ᴵˢ ⁱᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃʳᶜʰⁱᵗᵉᶜᵗᵘʳᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵈʳᵃʷˢ ʸᵒᵘ? ᵀʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗⁱᶠᵘˡ ᶜᵃʳᵛᵉᵈ ᵗᵒᵐᵇˢᵗᵒⁿᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵘᵉˢ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ ᵍˡᵃˢˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷʳᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ⁱʳᵒⁿ‧ ᴹᵘᶜʰ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵍᵒ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇʳᵃⁿᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵃ ˡⁱᶠᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ʷᵃˢ‧ ᴿᵉˢᵖᵉᶜᵗ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵃʳᵉ ᵍᵒⁿᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇʳᵃⁿᶜᵉ⸴ ᵉⁿᵈˡᵉˢˢˡʸ ᶠᵃˢᶜⁱⁿᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ‧ ᴰᵒ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ˢⁱᵐᵖˡᵉ ʳᵉᶜᵗᵃⁿᵍˡᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵐᵃʳᵇˡᵉ ᵒʳ ᵃⁿ ᵉˡᵃᵇᵒʳᵃᵗᵉˡʸ ᶜʰⁱˢᵉˡˡᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵍᵉˡ? ᴬʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ᶠˡᵒʷᵉʳˢ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵒ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᶠʳᵉˢʰ? ᵂʰᵃᵗ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ⁱⁿʰᵃᵇⁱᵗᵃⁿᵗˢ? ᴾʳᵒᶠᵉˢˢᵒʳ ᴰᵃᵛⁱᵉˢ ˢᵃʸˢ ʰᵉʳ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉʸᵃʳᵈˢ ˡᵉᵃⁿˢ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵗᵒʷᵃʳᵈ ᵇⁱᵇˡⁱᵒᵖʰⁱˡⁱᵃ ⁽ᵃ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵒᵒᵏˢ⁾ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ⁿᵉᶜʳᵒᵖʰⁱˡⁱᵃ “ᵒʳ ᵃⁿʸ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵉᑫᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵍʳᵒˢˢ ᵒʳ ᵐᵒʳᵇⁱᵈ ᵈᵉʳᵃⁿᵍᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗ‧” ᴵⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉⁿᵈ⸴ ˢʰᵉ ʳᵉʲᵉᶜᵗˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵉʳᵐ ᵗᵃᵖʰᵒᵖʰⁱˡᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵉᶜⁱᵈᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵃˡˡ ʰᵉʳˢᵉˡᶠ ᵃ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳⁱᵃⁿ‧ ᴵᵗ’ˢ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ˢᵒ ᵐᵃⁿʸ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ ᵒʳᵍᵃⁿⁱᶻᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ⸴ ᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ʷᵒʳᵏ⸴ ʳᵉˢᵉᵃʳᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵒᶜᵘᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖʳᵒᵗᵉᶜᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉˢᵉ ᶠʳᵃᵍⁱˡᵉ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉˢ‧ ᴱᵃᶜʰ ᵗᵉˡˡⁱ ᵃ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ⁱˢ ᵘⁿⁱᑫᵘᵉˡʸ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᵒʷⁿ‧ ᴬ ᵗᵃᵖʰᵒᵖʰⁱˡᵉ ᵇʸ ᵈᵉᶠⁱⁿⁱᵗⁱᵒⁿ ⁱˢ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵒ ⁱˢ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵉˢᵗᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳⁱᵉˢ⸴ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉˢᵗᵒⁿᵉˢ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃʳᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳʸ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵍᵒᵉˢ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉᵐ‧ ᔆᵒᵐᵉ ᵗᵃᵖʰᵒᵖʰⁱˡᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃˡˢᵒ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵉˢᵗᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᶠᵘⁿᵉʳᵃˡˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵘⁿᵉʳᵃʳʸ ᵗʳᵃᵈⁱᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ‧ ᵀᵃᵖʰᵒᵖʰⁱˡᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍʰᵒᵘˡⁱˢʰ ᶠᵒˡᵏˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵈᵉᵃᵗʰ ᵒᵇˢᵉˢˢⁱᵒⁿˢ‧ ᴵⁿ ᶠᵃᶜᵗ⸴ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ ᑫᵘⁱᵗᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᵖᵖᵒˢⁱᵗᵉ‧ ᵀᵃᵖʰᵒᵖʰⁱˡᵉˢ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᵇᵘʳⁱᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳⁱᵉˢ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵃʳⁿ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳʸ ᵒᶠ ⁱⁿᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵘᵃˡˢ⸴ ᵃⁿᶜᵉˢᵗᵒʳˢ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵘⁿⁱᵗʸ‧ ᴬⁿᵈ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ᵃ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉˢᵗᵒⁿᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ˡⁱᵗᵉʳᵃˡˡʸ ᵗᵉˡˡˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ’ˢ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ⸴ ⁱᵗ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ ᵃᵐᵃᶻⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴮᵉ ᶜᵒⁿˢⁱᵈᵉʳᵃᵗᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ‧ ᴵᶠ ᵃ ᶠᵘⁿᵉʳᵃˡ ⁱˢ ⁱⁿ ᵖʳᵒᵍʳᵉˢˢ ᵒʳ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉ⸴ ᵐᵒᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵃⁿᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ˢᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ‧ ᴰᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵗᵃⁿᵈ⸴ ˢⁱᵗ ᵒʳ ˡᵉᵃⁿ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿˢᵗ ᵐᵒⁿᵘᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ‧ ᴬˢᵏ ᵖᵉʳᵐⁱˢˢⁱᵒⁿ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ ᵒᶠᶠⁱᶜᵉ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉˢᵗᵒⁿᵉ ʳᵘᵇᵇⁱⁿᵍ; ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵐᵃʸ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵃˡˡᵒʷᵉᵈ‧ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷ ᵃˡˡ ᵖᵒˢᵗᵉᵈ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ ʳᵘˡᵉˢ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵃᵗ ᵃ ʳᵃⁿᵈᵒᵐ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉ ᴴᵉʳᵉ ˡⁱᵉˢ ᔆᵐⁱᵗʰ ¹⁹ˣˣ⁻? ᴰᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ? ᴵ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ'ᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵃⁿ ⁱⁿᶠᵃⁿᵗ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ᵖᵃˢˢᵉᵈ‧‧‧ ᵂᵃˢⁿ'ᵗ ᵍʳᵃⁿᵈᵖᵃ ᵇᵒʳⁿ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ ʸᵉᵃʳ? ᴴᵒʷ ᵈⁱᵈ ᔆᵐⁱᵗʰ ˢᵖᵉⁿᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ? ᵂᵃˢ ᔆᵐⁱᵗʰ ˢᵃᵗⁱˢᶠⁱᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ʰᵉ ᵈⁱᵉᵈ⸴ ᶠᵘˡᶠⁱˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˡˡ ʰⁱˢ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐˢ? ᵂᵃˢ ⁱᵗ ˢᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿ ʷʰᵉⁿ ⁱᵗ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ⸴ ᵒʳ ʷᵃˢ ⁱᵗ ᶠᵒʳˢᵉᵉⁿ? ᵂʰᵉⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᴵ ᵍᵒ ᵗᵒ ᵃ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉʸᵃʳᵈ⸴ ᴵ ᵗᵉⁿᵈ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵉˣᵖˡᵒʳᵉ ⁿᵉᵃʳᵇʸ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉˢ; ʳᵉᵃᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵃᵐᵉˢ⸴ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ˡⁱᶠᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉ‧‧‧ ᴰʳʸ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉˢ ᶜʳᵘⁿᶜʰ ᵃˢ ᴵ ʷᵃˡᵏ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵃ ʳᵒʷ‧ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵉˡᵖ ᵇᵘᵗ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʷʰᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉᵐᵒʳⁱᵃˡˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᶠᵒʳ‧ ᴸᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵇʳᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵉʷ; ᵒʰ⸴ ⁱᵗ ˢᵃʸˢ ²⁰ˣˣ ˢᵒ ⁱᵗ ᵐᵘˢᵗ ᵇᵉ ʳᵉᶜᵉⁿᵗ‧ ᴬᵐᵃᵇᵉˡ; ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵃ ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗⁱᶠᵘˡ ⁿᵃᵐᵉ! ᴬᵐᵃᵇᵉˡ‧‧‧ ᴿⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵉᵃʳ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᵇⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ‽ ᴬ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ ˢʰᵃᵖᵉᵈ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉ‧‧‧ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵉˡᵖ ᵇᵘᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ‧ ᔆᵒᵐᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘⁿᵍᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ‧ ᵂʰᵃᵗ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ? ᴴᵃᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵃⁿʸ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ? ᔆᵒᵐᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵐᵃⁿʸ ᶠˡᵒʷᵉʳˢ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉᵈ‧ ᴬʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒˢᵉˢ ᵃʳᵗⁱᶠⁱᶜⁱᵃˡ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ˢᵒ ᶠʳᵉˢʰ‧‧‧ ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒˡᵒᵘʳˢ! ᴮᵘᵗ ᴵ ᵗʳʸ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ʳᵘˢʰ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵃ ˢᵃᶜʳᵉᵈ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ‧ ᴱᵛᵉⁿᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ⸴ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴵ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ⸴ ᴵ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ ʷʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᴵ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ‧ ᴬˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᴬ ˡⁱᶠᵉ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ ʷᵒʳᵗʰ ᵗᵉˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵏⁿᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵉʳᵉⁿᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵇʸ ᴵ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵃʳ‧

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ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ᔆᵘʳⁿᵃᵐᵉ ᴾˡᵃᶜᵉ ᴵⁿᶜⁱᵈᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᶠʳᵉᑫᵘᵉⁿᶜʸ ᴿᵃⁿᵏ ⁱⁿ ᴬʳᵉᵃ ᴬᵘˢᵗʳᵃˡⁱᵃ ³⁵⁵ ¹⠘⁷⁶⸴⁰⁴⁴ ⁸⸴⁸⁹¹ ᴱⁿᵍˡᵃⁿᵈ ⁴ ¹⠘¹³⸴⁹²⁹⸴⁵¹⁵ ²⁹⁰⸴⁷¹⁸ ᵁⁿⁱᵗᵉᵈ ᔆᵗᵃᵗᵉˢ ² ¹⠘¹⁸¹⸴²²⁹⸴⁴⁶⁶ ¹⸴⁵⁵⁶⸴⁷⁹⁵ ᶜᵃⁿᵃᵈᵃ ¹ ¹⠘³⁶⸴⁸⁴⁵⸴⁵⁹¹ ⁴⁶⁴⸴¹⁰⁸ ᴳᵉʳᵐᵃⁿʸ ¹ ¹⠘⁸⁰⸴⁵⁰⁵⸴⁴⁵⁹ ⁵⁶⁰⸴⁹⁵⁵ ᴴᵒʷ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵒⁿ ᴵˢ ᵀʰᵉ ᴸᵃˢᵗ ᴺᵃᵐᵉ ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ? ᵖᵒᵖᵘˡᵃʳⁱᵗʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈⁱᶠᶠᵘˢⁱᵒⁿ ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ⁱˢ ᵗʰᵉ ⁷⁸⁰⸴³⁵²ⁿᵈ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ʷⁱᵈᵉˢᵖʳᵉᵃᵈ ˢᵘʳⁿᵃᵐᵉ ᵃᵗ ᵃ ᵍˡᵒᵇᵃˡ ˡᵉᵛᵉˡ⸴ ʰᵉˡᵈ ᵇʸ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵒˣⁱᵐᵃᵗᵉˡʸ ¹ ⁱⁿ ²⁰⸴⁰⁷⁵⸴⁸⁸⁴ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ˢᵘʳⁿᵃᵐᵉ ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ⁱˢ ᵐᵒˢᵗˡʸ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ ⁱⁿ ᴼᶜᵉᵃⁿⁱᵃ⸴ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ⁹⁸ ᵖᵉʳᶜᵉⁿᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ᵃʳᵉ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ; ⁹⁸ ᵖᵉʳᶜᵉⁿᵗ ᵃʳᵉ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ ⁱⁿ ᴬᵘˢᵗʳᵃˡᵃˢⁱᵃ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁹⁸ ᵖᵉʳᶜᵉⁿᵗ ᵃʳᵉ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ ⁱⁿ ᴬᵘˢᵗʳᵃˡⁱᵃ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴺᵉʷ ᶻᵉᵃˡᵃⁿᵈ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ˡᵃˢᵗ ⁿᵃᵐᵉ ⁱˢ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵒⁿ ⁱⁿ ᴬᵘˢᵗʳᵃˡⁱᵃ⸴ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ⁱᵗ ⁱˢ ᶜᵃʳʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ³⁵⁵ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ⸴ ᵒʳ ¹ ⁱⁿ ⁷⁶⸴⁰⁴⁴‧ ᴵⁿ ᴬᵘˢᵗʳᵃˡⁱᵃ ⁱᵗ ⁱˢ ᵐᵒˢᵗˡʸ ᶜᵒⁿᶜᵉⁿᵗʳᵃᵗᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ⠘ ᴺᵉʷ ᔆᵒᵘᵗʰ ᵂᵃˡᵉˢ⸴ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ⁷⁴ ᵖᵉʳᶜᵉⁿᵗ ᵃʳᵉ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ⸴ ᑫᵘᵉᵉⁿˢˡᵃⁿᵈ⸴ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ¹² ᵖᵉʳᶜᵉⁿᵗ ᵃʳᵉ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ⱽⁱᶜᵗᵒʳⁱᵃ⸴ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ¹¹ ᵖᵉʳᶜᵉⁿᵗ ᵃʳᵉ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ‧ ᵂⁱᵗʰᵒᵘᵗ ᵗᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵃᶜᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ ᴬᵘˢᵗʳᵃˡⁱᵃ ᵗʰⁱˢ ˡᵃˢᵗ ⁿᵃᵐᵉ ⁱˢ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ ⁱⁿ ⁴ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗʳⁱᵉˢ‧ ᴵᵗ ⁱˢ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵒⁿ ⁱⁿ ᴱⁿᵍˡᵃⁿᵈ⸴ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ¹ ᵖᵉʳᶜᵉⁿᵗ ᵃʳᵉ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵀʰᵉ ᵁⁿⁱᵗᵉᵈ ᔆᵗᵃᵗᵉˢ⸴ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ¹ ᵖᵉʳᶜᵉⁿᵗ ᵃʳᵉ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ‧ ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ ᴾᵒᵖᵘˡᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵀʳᵉⁿᵈ ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳⁱᶜᵃˡ ᶠˡᵘᶜᵗᵘᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵀʰᵉ ᶠʳᵉᑫᵘᵉⁿᶜʸ ᵒᶠ ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ʰᵃˢ ᶜʰᵃⁿᵍᵉᵈ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ‧ ᴵⁿ ᵀʰᵉ ᵁⁿⁱᵗᵉᵈ ᔆᵗᵃᵗᵉˢ ⁱᵗ ᵍʳᵉʷ ²⁰⁰ ᵖᵉʳᶜᵉⁿᵗ ᵇᵉᵗʷᵉᵉⁿ ¹⁸⁸⁰ ᵃⁿᵈ ²⁰¹⁴‧ ᴾʰᵒⁿᵉᵗⁱᶜᵃˡˡʸ ᔆⁱᵐⁱˡᵃʳ ᴺᵃᵐᵉˢ ᔆᵘʳⁿᵃᵐᵉ ᔆⁱᵐⁱˡᵃʳⁱᵗʸ ᵂᵒʳˡᵈʷⁱᵈᵉ ᴵⁿᶜⁱᵈᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᴾʳᵉᵛᵃˡᵉⁿᶜʸ ᵂᵃᵗᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ⁹⁴ ⁴ / ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈᵗ ⁹⁴ ⁰ / ᴮᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ⁸⁸ ⁹⁰² / ᵂᵃᵈˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ⁸⁸ ⁰ / ᵂᵃᵗᶜʰᶠᵒʳᵈ ⁸² ¹ / ᴮᵃᵗˢʰᶠᵒʳᵈ ⁸² ⁰ / ᵂᵃᶜᶠᵒʳᵈ ⁸⁰ ¹ / ᴮᵒᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ⁷⁵ ²⸴⁴¹⁸ / ᴮᵃᵈˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ⁷⁵ ⁰ / ᵂᵒᵒᵈˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ⁷¹ ⁶¹² / ᴮᵃᵗᶜʰᶠᵒʳᵈ ⁷¹ ²³² / ᴮᵒᵗᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ⁷¹ ³¹ / ᵂᵃᵈˢᶠᵒʳᵗʰ ⁷¹ ¹ / ᴮᵒᵈˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ⁶³ ¹⁸¹ / ᵂᵒʰᶻᶠᵒʳᵈ ⁶³ ¹ / ᴮᵃᶜʰᶠᵒʳᵈ ⁶³ ⁰ / ᴮᵒᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵗ ⁶³ ⁰ / ᴮᵒᵗᶜʰᶠᵒʳᵈ ⁵⁹ ¹⁷ / ᴮᵉᵃᶜʰᶠᵒʳᵈ ⁵⁹ ² / ᴮᵒᶜʰᶠᵒʳᵈ ⁵⁰ ⁰ /
☽🎾☽ALYSSA☽🎾☽ Aͫ lͤ yͬ sͫ sͣ aͥ ᵈ Ⓐ🔥ⓛ🔥ⓨ🔥ⓢ🔥ⓢ🔥ⓐ 🎾AӀվʂʂą
ᵂᴬᵀᔆᶠᴼᴿᴰ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ ᴺᵃᵐᵉ⠘ ᴳʳᵃᶜᵉ ᴴᵒˡˡᵒʷᵃʸ ᵂᴬᵀᔆᶠᴼᴿᴰ ᴮⁱʳᵗʰ⠘ ³ ᴺᵒᵛ ¹⁸⁸³ ᴹᵉˡᵇᵒᵘʳⁿᵉ⸴ ⱽⁱᶜᵗᵒʳⁱᵃ⸴ ᴬᵘˢᵗʳᵃˡⁱᵃ ᴰᵉᵃᵗʰ⠘ ¹⁷ ᶠᵉᵇ ¹⁹⁷⁴ ᶜᵃⁿᵗᵉʳᵇᵘʳʸ⸴ ⱽⁱᶜᵗᵒʳⁱᵃ ᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ⠘ ᴶᵃᵐᵉˢ ᴶᵒⁿᵉˢ ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ᴹᵒᵗʰᵉʳ⠘ ᴬⁿⁿ ᴴᵒˡˡᵒʷᵃʸ ᴺᵃᵐᵉ⠘ ᴶᵃⁿᵉ ᶜʰᵃʳˡᵒᵗᵗᵉ ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ᴮⁱʳᵗʰ⠘ ¹⁸⁴⁸ ⱽⁱˡᵃ⸴ ᶠⁱʲⁱ ᴰᵉᵃᵗʰ⠘ ²⁸ ᴹᵃʸ ¹⁹³⁰ ᔆᵃⁿᵈʳⁱⁿᵍʰᵃᵐ⸴ ⱽⁱᶜᵗᵒʳⁱᵃ⸴ ᴬᵘˢᵗʳᵃˡⁱᵃ ᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ⠘ ᴶᵒʰⁿ ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ᴹᵒᵗʰᵉʳ⠘ ᴱˡⁱᶻᵃᵇᵉᵗʰ ᴶᵒⁿᵉˢ ᴺᵃᵐᵉ⠘ ᶜʰᵃʳˡᵒᵗᵗᵉ ᴱᵐⁱˡʸ ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ᴮⁱʳᵗʰ⠘ ≤ ² ᔆᵉᵖ ¹⁸⁵⁷ ᴾᵃʳʳᵃᵐᵃᵗᵗᵃ⸴ ᴺᵉʷ ᔆᵒᵘᵗʰ ᵂᵃˡᵉˢ⸴ ᴬᵘˢᵗʳᵃˡⁱᵃ ᴰᵉᵃᵗʰ⠘ ³ ᴺᵒᵛ ¹⁸⁷⁸ ᴾᵃʳʳᵃᵐᵃᵗᵗᵃ⸴ ᴺᵉʷ ᔆᵒᵘᵗʰ ᵂᵃˡᵉˢ⸴ ᴬᵘˢᵗʳᵃˡⁱᵃ ᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ⠘ ᴴᵉⁿʳʸ ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ᴹᵒᵗʰᵉʳ⠘ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ᴴᵃʳᵖᵉʳ ᴺᵃᵐᵉ⠘ ᶠˡᵒʳᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᶜʰᵃʳˡᵒᵗᵗᵉ ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ᴮⁱʳᵗʰ⠘ ¹⁸⁷⁵ ᔆʸᵈⁿᵉʸ⸴ ᴺᵉʷ ᔆᵒᵘᵗʰ ᵂᵃˡᵉˢ⸴ ᴬᵘˢᵗʳᵃˡⁱᵃ ᴰᵉᵃᵗʰ⠘ ¹⁰ ᔆᵉᵖᵗᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ¹⁹⁷² ᔆᵃⁱⁿᵗ ᴸᵉᵒⁿᵃʳᵈˢ⸴ ᵂⁱˡˡᵒᵘᵍʰᵇʸ⸴ ᴺᵉʷ ᔆᵒᵘᵗʰ ᵂᵃˡᵉˢ⸴ ᴬᵘˢᵗʳᵃˡⁱᵃ ᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ⠘ ᴴᵉⁿʳʸ ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ᴹᵒᵗʰᵉʳ⠘ ᴸᵒᵘⁱˢᵃ ᔆᵒᵖʰⁱᵃ ᴾᵉᵖᵖᵉʳ ᴺᵃᵐᵉ⠘ ᴹʸʳᵃ ᶜʰᵃʳˡᵒᵗᵗᵉ ᴹᵃʳʸ ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ᴮⁱʳᵗʰ⠘ ¹⁹¹³ ᴾᵃʳʳᵃᵐᵃᵗᵗᵃ ᴺᔆᵂ ᴬᵘˢᵗʳᵃˡⁱᵃ ᴰᵉᵃᵗʰ⠘ ¹⁹⁸⁴ ᵂᵃʰʳᵒᵒⁿᵍᵃ ᴺᔆᵂ ᴬᵘˢᵗʳᵃˡⁱᵃ ᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ⠘ ᴶᵃᵐᵉˢ ᴸᵃⁿᶜᵉˡᵒᵗ ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ᴹᵒᵗʰᵉʳ⠘ ᴼˡⁱᵛᵉ ᴵ ᴹ ᴰᵒᵘᵍˡᵃˢˢ ᴺᵃᵐᵉ⠘ ᶜʰᵃʳˡᵒᵗᵗᵉ ᴱ ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ᴮⁱʳᵗʰ⠘ <¹⁸⁸³ ᴺᔆᵂ⸴ ᴬᵁᔆ ᴰᵉᵃᵗʰ⠘ ¹⁹⁰⁷ ᴺᔆᵂ⸴ ᴬᵁᔆ ᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ⠘ ᴶᵃᵐᵉˢ ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ᴹᵒᵗʰᵉʳ⠘ ᴹᵃʳʸ ᴹᵒˡᵒⁿᵉʸ ᴺᵃᵐᵉ⠘ ᴰᵒʳᵉᵉⁿ ᴶᵘⁿᵉ ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ᴮⁱʳᵗʰ⠘ ¹³ ᴶᵘⁿ ¹⁹³¹ ᴰᵉᵃᵗʰ⠘ ²⁹ ᴶᵘⁿ ¹⁹⁴³ ᴴᵒʳⁿˢᵇʸ⸴ ᴺᵉʷ ᔆᵒᵘᵗʰ ᵂᵃˡᵉˢ⸴ ᴬᵘˢᵗʳᵃˡⁱᵃ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᶠᵃˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉʳ ᵈᵉᵃᵗʰ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵗʰⁱʳᵗᵉᵉⁿ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ ᵒˡᵈ ᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ⠘ ᴳᵉᵒʳᵍᵉ ᶠʳᵃⁿᶜⁱˢ ᴺᵒᵉ̈ˡ ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ᴹᵒᵗʰᵉʳ⠘ ᴰᵒʳᵒᵗʰʸ ᴹᵉˡᵛⁱˡˡᵉ ᴶᵒʰⁿ ᴰᵒᵘᵍˡᵃˢ ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ⁽²⁷ ᶠᵉᵇʳᵘᵃʳʸ ¹⁸⁷⁶ – ⁴ ᴰᵉᶜᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ¹⁹¹⁵⁾ ᴬᵘˢᵗʳᵃˡⁱᵃⁿ ʳᵘˡᵉˢ ᶠᵒᵒᵗᵇᵃˡˡᵉʳ ʷʰᵒ ᵖˡᵃʸᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᶜᵒˡˡⁱⁿᵍʷᵒᵒᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ⱽⁱᶜᵗᵒʳⁱᵃⁿ ᶠᵒᵒᵗᵇᵃˡˡ ᴸᵉᵃᵍᵘᵉ ⁽ⱽᶠᴸ⁾‧
ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ᴳᵉⁿᵉᵃˡᵒᵍʸ ᵂⁱⁿⁱᶠʳᵉᵈ ᴱᵈⁱᵗʰ ᴱᵐᵐᵃ ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ¹⁸⁸¹ ⁻ ¹⁹⁵⁴ ᴳʳᵃᶜᵉ ᴴᵒˡˡᵒʷᵃʸ ⁽ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ⁾ ᴾʰⁱˡˡⁱᵖˢ ᶜ‧ ¹⁸⁸³ ᴶᵃⁿᵉ ᶜʰᵃʳˡᵒᵗᵗᵉ ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ¹⁸⁴⁸ ⁻ ¹⁹³⁰ ᴱᵐᵐᵃ ᴱˡⁱᶻᵃᵇᵉᵗʰ ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ¹⁸⁵⁰ ⁻ ¹⁹³³ ᶜʰᵃʳˡᵒᵗᵗᵉ ᴱ ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ᶜ‧ ¹⁸⁵⁷ ᴿᵉˡᵃᵗᵉᵈ ˢᵘʳⁿᵃᵐᵉˢ⠘ ᵂᴬᵀᶠᴼᴿᴰ ⁽⁴⁹⁰⁾ ᵂᴴᴬᵀᶠᴼᴿᴰ ⁽⁵⁰⁾ ᵂᴼᴼᴰᔆᶠᴼᴿᴰ ⁽²⁴⁾ ᵂᴬᔆᴴᶠᴼᴿᴰ ⁽¹⁷⁾ ᵂᴬᵀᵀᶠᴼᴿᴰ ⁽¹⁾‧
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────(♥)(♥)(♥)────(♥)(♥)(♥) ɪƒ ƴσυ'ʀє αʟσηє, ──(♥)██████(♥)(♥)█████(♥) ɪ'ʟʟ ɓє ƴσυʀ ѕɧα∂σѡ. ─(♥)████████(♥)████████(♥) ɪƒ ƴσυ ѡαηт тσ cʀƴ, ─(♥)██████████████████(♥) ɪ'ʟʟ ɓє ƴσυʀ ѕɧσυʟ∂єʀ. ──(♥)████████████████(♥) ɪƒ ƴσυ ѡαηт α ɧυɢ, ────(♥)█████████████(♥) ɪ'ʟʟ ɓє ƴσυʀ ρɪʟʟσѡ. ──────(♥)█████████(♥) ɪƒ ƴσυ ηєє∂ тσ ɓє ɧαρρƴ, ────────(♥)█████(♥) ɪ'ʟʟ ɓє ƴσυʀ ѕɱɪʟє. ─────────(♥)██(♥) ɓυт αηƴтɪɱє ƴσυ ηєє∂ α ƒʀɪєη∂, ───────────(♥) ɪ'ʟʟ ʝυѕт ɓє ɱє.
Cool name designs ☾.✴˚˖⁺✦{name}✦˙⊹˚✴☽ ☕🧸♕- (insert name)-☕🧸♕ *ੈ✩ ☁☾ Your Name ☽☁ ✧༺ ❀♧☆❁☁♥∞ ️(𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆)∞♥️☁❁☆ 🎀💮👘~🍥Your name🍥~👘💮🎀 ♡🦋l (insert name) l♡🦋 🌻 ▫ ☁ (text) ☁ ▫ 🌻 🍯🧸🌼🍰🍩-(insert name here)-🍯🧸🌼🍰🍩 ˗ˏˋ❀ {Text} ❀ ˎˊ˗ 📇
✧・゚: *♡・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚♡ ♡ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ✧ ✧・゚: *♡・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚♡
░█▀▀▄░█░░█░░█░█▀▀░█▀▀░█▀▀▄ ▒█▄▄█░█░░█▄▄█░▀▀▄░▀▀▄░█▄▄█ ▒█░▒█░▀▀░▄▄▄▀░▀▀▀░▀▀▀░▀░░▀
🦇⋆⁺₊⋆𖤐𖤐⋆⁺₊⋆🦇
ᴵᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃ ᵀᵒᵐᵇˢᵗᵒⁿᵉ ᵀᵒᵘʳⁱˢᵗ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃʷᵃʳᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳⁱᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ʳⁱᶜʰ ʳᵉᵖᵒˢⁱᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳʸ⸴ ᵃʳᵗ⸴ ᵃʳᶜʰⁱᵗᵉᶜᵗᵘʳᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ‧ ᵀʰⁱˢ ᵀʳᵃⁱˡ ⁱˢ ᵃ ᶜʳᵉᵃᵗⁱᵛᵉ ʷᵃʸ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵒᵃˣ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉʸᵃʳᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ᶜʰᵃⁿᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵉˣᵖˡᵒʳᵉ ʷʰᵃᵗ ⁱˢ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃᵈᵐⁱʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒⁿᵘᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ʷʰᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵍᵒⁿᵉ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ‧ ᴾʳᵉˢⁱᵈᵉⁿᵗ ᴶᵒʰⁿ ᶠ‧ ᴷᵉⁿⁿᵉᵈʸ ˢᵃⁱᵈ⸴ “ᴬ ⁿᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ʳᵉᵛᵉᵃˡˢ ⁱᵗˢᵉˡᶠ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉⁿ ⁱᵗ ᵖʳᵒᵈᵘᶜᵉˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉⁿ ⁱᵗ ʰᵒⁿᵒʳˢ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉⁿ ⁱᵗ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳˢ‧” ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳⁱᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃʳᵗ⸴ ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳʸ⸴ ᵍᵉⁿᵉᵃˡᵒᵍʸ⸴ ᶜˡᵃˢˢ⸴ ʳᵉˡⁱᵍⁱᵒⁿ ᵃˡˡ ʳᵒˡˡᵉᵈ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵒⁿᵉ‧ ᴺᵒʷ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ‘ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗ’ ᵃ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ ᵒⁿ ˡⁱⁿᵉ‧ ᵂʰⁱˡᵉ ⁱᵗ’ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ ᵃˢ ˢᵗʳᵒˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵃ ʷⁱⁿᵈʸ ᵃᵘᵗᵘᵐⁿᵃˡ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ⸴ ˢᵉᵃʳᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃⁿ ᵃⁿᶜᵉˢᵗᵒʳ’ˢ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉ⸴ ⁱᵗ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ˢᵉⁿˢᵉ ⁱᶠ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵒʳ ᶠⁱⁿᵃⁿᶜᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ʰᵒˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵐᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʳⁱᵖ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ˡᵒᶜᵃᵗᵉ ᵃⁿ ᵃⁿᶜᵉˢᵗᵒʳ’ˢ ᶠⁱⁿᵃˡ ʳᵉˢᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳⁿᵉᵗ⸴ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ᵖʰᵒᵗᵒ⸴ ᵒⁿ ˢⁱᵗᵉˢ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵃˢ ᶠⁱⁿᵈᵃᵍʳᵃᵛᵉ‧ᶜᵒᵐ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵐᵉⁿᵗ‧ᶜᵒᵐ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ ᵒᶠᶠᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵒⁿᵉ; ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳʸ⸴ ᵃʳᶜʰⁱᵗᵉᶜᵗᵘʳᵉ⸴ ᵃʳᵗ⸴ ʷᵃˡᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒᵘʳˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵃᵗᵘʳᵉ⸴ ᵃˡˡ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ˢᵉʳᵉⁿᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗⁱᶠᵘˡ ˢᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴰᵃⁿ ᵂⁱˡˢᵒⁿ⠘ ᴵ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᶜᵒˡˡᵉᶜᵗⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡⁱᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵃʳᵉ ᵇᵘʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ‧ ᴬ ˡᵒᵗ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʰᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵈⁱᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˡⁱᵛᵉᵈ⸴ ˢᵒ ⁱᵗ’ˢ ᵏⁱⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᶠᵃˢᶜⁱⁿᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴺᵒᵗ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵈᵒ ʷᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵇᵘʳⁱᵃˡ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵒᵘˢᵃⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ⸴ ʷᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵈⁱᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ˡⁱᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ʳᵉˡᵃᵗⁱᵛᵉˢ⸴ ʷᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃˡˡ ᵏⁱⁿᵈˢ ᵒᶠ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ⸴ ᶜᵒᵒˡ ˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ‧ ᵀʰᵃᵗ’ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳʸ ᵖᵃʳᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗᵘᶠᶠ ᴵ ˡⁱᵏᵉ‧ ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ʰᵃᵗᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵈⁱᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ‧ ᴵ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ʷᵃˡᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵃˢᶜⁱⁿᵃᵗᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵃᵐᵉˢ ᴬˡᵒʸˢⁱᵘˢ⸴ ᴱᵈʷⁱⁿᵃ⸴ ⱽⁱᶜᵗᵒʳⁱᵃ⸴ ᴺᵃᵗʰᵃⁿⁱᵃˡ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ᵃˡˡ ˢᵒᵘⁿᵈᵉᵈ ᶜʰᵃʳᵐⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵉᵗ ᵒˡᵈ ᶠᵃˢʰⁱᵒⁿᵉᵈ‧ ᴬˢ ᴵ ᶠⁱᵍᵘʳᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵍᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵈᵉᵃᵗʰ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ˢᵗᵒⁿᵉˢ⸴ ᴵ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˡⁱᵛᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʷʰᵒˢᵉ ⁿᵃᵐᵉˢ‧ ᴴᵃᵈ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵐᵃʳʳⁱᵉᵈ? ᴰⁱᵈ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ? ᴴᵃᵈ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ? ᴴᵃᵈ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʰᵃᵈ ᵃ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ˡⁱᶠᵉ? ᴬⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᵖⁱᵗᵃᵖʰˢ⠘ ᴰᵉᵃʳ ᴮʳᵒᵗʰᵉʳ⸴ ᴿᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳᵉᵈ ᴬᵘⁿᵗ⸴ ᴮᵉˡᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᵂⁱᶠᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴼᵘʳ ᴮᵃᵇʸ – ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗᵒⁿᵉˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ‧ ᴵᵗ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱᶻᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵃᵗ⸴ ʸᵉˢ⸴ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ‧ ᔆᵒ ʷʰᵉⁿ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵉˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗˢ ᵃ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉ⸴ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢᵃʸ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ⸴ ⁵⁰ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ’ˢ ᵖᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ᵃʷᵃʸ⸴ ⁱᵗ’ˢ ᵏⁱⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵒᵒˡ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵉˡˡ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵃ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ⸴ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵈⁱᵈ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ‧ ᴬⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳ ʷʰᵒ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʷᵉʳᵉ‧ ᴵ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ʷᵉ ᵒʷᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳʸ‧ ᵀʰⁱˢ ᵃᵖᵖˡⁱᵉˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ʷʰᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ʳᵉᶜᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ᵖᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃⁿᶜᵉˢᵗᵒʳˢ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵍᵉⁿᵉʳᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᴵⁿᵗᵉʳⁿᵉᵗ ᵐᵃᵏᵉˢ ᵈᵉᵗᵉᶜᵗⁱᵛᵉ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵖᵒˢˢⁱᵇˡᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵉᵃˢⁱᵉʳ ⁿᵒʷ‧ ʸᵒᵘ’ˡˡ ᵇᵉ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢᵉᵈ ʷʰᵃᵗ ⁱˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ‧
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🌒 🌑 🌘 🐾 🐱 🐾 🌒 🌑 🌘
ᴬˡʸˢˢᵃ ᶠᵃʸᵉ ᴬᵛⁱˡᵃ ᴮᴵᴿᵀᴴ ²⁷ ᴰᵉᶜ ²⁰⁰⁰ ᴹᵒᵈᵉˢᵗᵒ⸴ ᔆᵗᵃⁿⁱˢˡᵃᵘˢ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗʸ⸴ ᶜᵃˡⁱᶠᵒʳⁿⁱᵃ⸴ ᵁᔆᴬ ᴰᴱᴬᵀᴴ ¹⁹ ᴬᵘᵍ ²⁰¹⁰ ⁽ᵃᵍᵉᵈ ⁹⁾ ᴹⁱᵃᵐⁱ⸴ ᴼᵗᵗᵃʷᵃ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗʸ⸴ ᴼᵏˡᵃʰᵒᵐᵃ⸴ ᵁᔆᴬ ᴮᵁᴿᴵᴬᴸ ᴹᵃᶜᵉᵈᵒⁿⁱᵃ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ ᔆᵗᵉˡˡᵃ⸴ ᴺᵉʷᵗᵒⁿ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗʸ⸴ ᴹⁱˢˢᵒᵘʳⁱ⸴ ᵁᔆᴬ ᵂʸᵃⁿᵈᵒᵗᵗᵉ⸴ ᴼᴷ⁻ᴬˡʸˢˢᵃ ᴬᵛⁱˡᵃ ᶜʰᵃʳᵐᵉᵈ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵒⁿᵉ ˢʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ᵈᵘʳⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉʳ ˢʰᵒʳᵗ ˡⁱᶠᵉ ᵃ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ ᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᴬˡʸˢˢᵃ ᶠᵃʸᵉ ᴬᵛⁱˡᵃ⸴ ⁹⸴ ᵂʸᵃⁿᵈᵒᵗᵗᵉ⸴ ᴼᴷ ᵖᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᵃᵗ ³⠘⁵⁵ ᴾᴹ ᴬᵘᵍᵘˢᵗ ¹⁹⸴ ²⁰¹⁰ ᵃᵗ ᴹⁱᵃᵐⁱ ᴵⁿᵗᵉᵍʳⁱˢ ᴮᵃᵖᵗⁱˢᵗ ᴴᵒˢᵖⁱᵗᵃˡ ⁱⁿ ᴹⁱᵃᵐⁱ⸴ ᴼᴷ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ⁱⁿʲᵘʳⁱᵉˢ ˢᵘˢᵗᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ᵖˡᵃʸᵍʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᵉᑫᵘⁱᵖᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵃᶜᶜⁱᵈᵉⁿᵗ‧ ᴬˡʸˢˢᵃ ᶠᵃʸᵉ ᴬᵛⁱˡᵃ ʷᵃˢ ᵇᵒʳⁿ ᴰᵉᶜᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ²⁷⸴ ²⁰⁰⁰ ⁱⁿ ᴹᵒᵈᵉˢᵗᵒ⸴ ᶜᴬ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃᵘᵍʰᵗᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᴿᵒⁿ ᴬᵛⁱˡᵃ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶜᵃᵗʰʸ ⁽ᶜᵃᵐᵖᵇᵉˡˡ⁾ ᶜᵒˡˡⁱⁿˢ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ᵃ ˢᵗᵘᵈᵉⁿᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵂʸᵃⁿᵈᵒᵗᵗᵉ ᴱˡᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗᵃʳʸ ᔆᶜʰᵒᵒˡ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵃˢ ˡᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵃˡˡ ʷʰᵒ ᵐᵉᵗ ʰᵉʳ‧
✻ღϠ₡ღ✻(¯`✻´¯)Every life has a story *`*.¸.*✻ღϠ₡ღ¸.✻´´¯`✻.¸¸ღ¸.✻´´¯`✻.¸¸
WATSFORD name has been spelt Wadford, Watford, Wottsford, Whatford Уодфорд, Уотфорд, Уоттсфорд, Уотфорд Waterford, Walford, Wafford, Watsord, Whatford, Warford, Wattford, Watfor, Wadford, Watfordjr, Waford, O'watford Уотерфорд, Уолфорд, Ваффорд, Уотсорд, Уотфорд, Уорфорд, Уотфорд, Уотфор, Уодфорд, Уотфорджер, Уофорд, О'уотфорд H2O : Шарлотта Уоттсфорд ( Бриттани Бирнс ) Sárlott Vácfort Шарлотта Вотсфорд Шарлот Вотсфорд Шарлотту Вотсфорд Σαρλότου Βότσφορντ
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┈┈┈┈┈┈┈▕▔╲╱▔▔▔▔╲╱▔▏ ┈╭╭╭╭╭╭╭▔▏▋┈▋ ┈▋ ▕▔ ╭╭╭╭╭╭╭╭╭╲┈┈┈┈┈╱ ╭╭╭╭╭╭╭╭╭╭ ╭ ╰▉╯ ╭╭╭╭╭╭╭╭╭╭╭╱ ╭╭╭╭╭╲╭╭╭╭╭╱ ┈┃┃┃┃┈┃┃┈┃┃ ┈┗┛┗┛┈┗┛┈┗┛
Sharlota Watsford شارلوت واتسفورد Շարլոտա Ուոթսֆորդ Шарлотта Уотсфорд Шарлот Уотсфорд Carlota Watsford שארלוט ווטספורד چارلۆت واتسفۆرد Šarlote Vatsforda Charlotte Watsfordas Шарлот Вотсфорд Шарлотт Ватсфорд शार्लोट वाट्सफोर्ड Шарлотка Уотсфорд Salote Watsford Љарлот Wатсфорд Шарлотта Ватсфорд ሻርሎት ዋትስፎርድ Sālote Watsford
⣿⣻⠿⣽⢯⠿⣽⣫⣟⡽⣫⢿⣹⢏⣿⡹⣏⢿⡹⣏⡿⣝⣯⢻⡽⣫⠿⣝⣯⢟⣯⣟⢯⣟⢿⣻⢟⣿⢻⣟⢯⣟⣾⣯⣿⣽⣟⣭⣯⣷⣼⡶⢏⡒⣡⣒⣬⡭⠿⡷⠾⢶⡷⣿⣶⣫⢿⣶⣥⣁⠂⠂⢀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠄⢂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢺⡽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡷⣯⢿⡽⣞⡿⢧⡷⢾⡽⣽⡳⢯⣟⡶⣻⣭⢷⡻⣵⡻⣞⠾⣯⠷⣯⠿⡽⣞⠿⣞⣾⢻⣞⣯⣽⣛⢮⣿⣾⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣽⣻⢭⠭⣆⠄⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠠⢀⡠⠽⣻⡮⢷⡛⠳⢶⣢⣝⡢⣑⠢⠐⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⡝⣯⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡿⣼⣳⢻⡼⣝⡯⣽⣫⠾⣵⣛⢯⡞⣽⢳⢮⡳⣏⢷⣹⡭⣟⢾⡹⣧⢿⣹⢞⣻⣝⡮⣟⡼⣾⠱⣯⣿⣿⣻⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣛⣯⣿⣷⡯⠷⠖⣒⣒⣚⣛⣭⣿⣿⣶⣶⣿⣦⣟⠛⢷⣌⠉⠓⠚⠛⡲⣆⡁⢆⡐⢢⠐⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢫⣿⣽⡿⣷⣿⡿⣿ ⣟⠶⣽⢳⣛⣮⡽⢶⣫⢟⡵⣫⢷⡹⣎⡟⣮⢳⣭⣛⢶⡹⣎⢷⡻⣼⢳⣏⡾⣳⢮⡽⣞⣽⢯⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣽⣞⣫⣭⣴⣗⣾⣿⣿⣾⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡿⢿⣭⣛⣏⢻⠡⣿⡠⠦⠤⠤⢭⢿⣷⡀⠈⠄⠁⠀⢀⠈⠀⠄⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠡⢻⣯⣿⣿⢯⣿⣿ ⣯⣛⡾⣭⠷⣮⢽⣣⢟⣮⢳⡝⣮⢳⡝⣾⡱⣏⢶⡹⣎⢷⣹⢎⡷⣭⢳⣎⢷⡹⣎⠷⣽⣽⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠻⠟⣛⣋⣉⣵⣮⡷⠾⡟⣉⣡⣬⠴⠲⠜⢿⣦⡉⠉⠙⠽⣶⢽⣆⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠩⣟⣷⣿⡿⣟⣿ ⡷⣹⢞⡵⣻⡜⣧⣛⠾⣜⢧⡻⣜⢧⣛⢶⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⣭⢳⢮⣏⠷⣭⢻⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡶⠷⠛⣛⣋⣩⠡⠄⠭⢖⡫⢝⣤⣶⣾⡷⣾⠟⠛⠿⣧⡽⢭⣌⡻⣾⣥⠀⡐⠀⠁⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⣷⢿⣿⢿ ⣽⢣⡟⣼⢣⡟⡶⣭⢻⡜⣧⢻⡜⣧⣛⢮⡳⣝⢮⡳⣝⢮⡳⣝⠾⣜⢯⡞⣼⠻⣬⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡿⣭⢷⣾⢷⡻⣽⠞⠋⣑⣬⠾⣯⠾⣻⣿⣿⠿⣝⣫⣴⣾⣏⣟⡻⣤⣘⣫⠝⠻⠧⠀⢀⠈⠀⠄⠠⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠊⢛ ⢷⣫⢞⣧⢻⣜⡳⣭⡳⣝⢮⡳⣝⢶⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⠷⣭⢻⡜⣧⢻⣜⣫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣽⣻⣿⠿⣭⣟⣿⡕⣯⣾⣿⣿⣻⡷⠿⣩⣷⡾⣟⣿⣿⡿⢹⠏⣸⡌⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣄⠈⡐⠈⠄⠂⢁⠠⠁⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡄⢃ ⡷⣹⢞⡼⣳⢎⡷⣣⢟⡼⣣⢟⡼⣣⢟⡼⣣⢟⡼⣣⢟⡼⣻⡜⣧⢻⡜⣧⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣡⣶⠿⣛⣭⣿⣽⣿⠞⣱⡟⣰⠏⡼⣿⣿⣯⡽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⠀⡡⢈⡐⠄⠠⠀⠁⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⢤⣒⠣⠜⢂ ⣽⢣⡟⣼⢣⡟⣼⢣⡟⣼⢣⡟⣼⢣⡟⣼⢣⡟⣼⢣⡟⣼⢣⡟⣼⢣⣟⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣻⣽⣶⣿⣿⢟⢫⣱⣾⣿⡟⣩⢞⣡⢺⣽⣿⣿⣷⣿⣻⣿⣿⣧⠐⠤⠐⡈⠄⠈⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⣠⣔⡲⣛⠜⡢⢌⠡⣉⠀ ⡞⣧⢻⡜⣧⢻⡜⣧⢻⡜⣣⢝⣮⢳⡝⣮⢳⡝⣮⢳⡝⣮⢳⡝⣎⣷⡟⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠿⣟⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡱⠁⠈⠙⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⡎⢤⡁⠰⣀⠡⢀⢂⡰⣰⣌⡷⣳⢏⡶⣑⢣⡙⢤⡃⢇⠦⣉ ⡽⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣌⠓⡌⠐⠊⡖⢫⢞⡵⣫⢞⡵⣫⢞⡵⣫⢞⡵⣟⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⢟⠾⣹⣿⢯⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⢏⡴⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣣⢯⣷⡼⣽⣞⣾⢷⣻⢾⡹⢇⠯⣰⢡⡖⣹⢦⡙⢎⡒⠤ ⣳⡝⣮⢳⡝⣮⢳⣎⠡⠀⠌⡐⢌⡳⣎⢷⣙⢮⡳⣝⢮⡳⣝⡾⣽⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣻⡾⣱⠫⣼⡿⣵⡻⣷⢿⣿⢟⣏⠜⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣻⣽⣿⢿⣽⣯⢿⡱⢣⡝⢎⣳⡱⢧⡛⡴⢃⢮⠱⣌⢣ ⣧⢻⡜⣧⢻⡜⢳⡌⢃⡎⢰⢁⡏⣷⢹⣮⡝⣮⣵⢋⡞⣱⡟⣹⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⣷⢁⣿⡟⣸⣿⡟⣷⡟⢁⣯⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢹⡞⣿⢻⣽⡎⣧⠙⣧⠚⣭⣶⢉⣧⠙⡖⣭⢲⡍⡖⢣ ⡽⣞⣳⡽⢮⡝⣏⠑⠂⠀⠁⢯⡜⣮⢳⣎⢷⡹⣜⢮⣽⡳⣽⢟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣝⢦⣿⣟⣽⣿⣿⣿⢟⣴⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣯⡿⣝⠯⢶⡹⣌⠟⡼⣩⠳⣌⠳⣌⢳⡱⢣⢎⡵⡭⣏ ⡿⣽⣳⣟⢯⣞⢦⣁⡀⠀⠀⡸⣝⠶⣋⡞⢮⣵⣻⡛⣶⡹⣏⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠵⠋⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⠞⠋⠉⠙⢷⣄⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠉⡷⣙⢞⣣⠳⣌⠻⣔⢣⡛⣬⠳⣜⢣⣝⣣⢻⡴⢻⣜ ⣟⣷⣻⡞⢏⢞⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠙⣯⣝⣣⢟⢧⡳⢦⡟⣶⡹⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢯⢭⣙⠯⣟⡿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠀⠀⣤⣶⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡆⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠱⡸⢌⡞⡴⢫⣜⡳⢎⡧⡝⢦⡛⣬⢳⡺⣜⢧⣛⡷⣯ ⡞⣼⣳⡍⠎⠀⠰⣤⠤⡤⣤⢾⢳⢮⣜⡫⢮⡵⣫⣼⡷⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠯⡽⣭⠲⣍⢾⡱⣏⣶⣭⣶⣥⣮⣁⠂⠁⠄⢃⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⡡⡝⢮⡜⣵⢫⠶⣙⡏⡶⡹⢦⡝⣎⡳⣝⢮⢯⡽⣞⡷ ⡝⣶⣻⢿⡰⢄⡻⢬⣛⡵⢭⢎⡻⣜⡶⣹⢣⢞⣽⣿⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡯⣝⠳⢭⣻⣜⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⠓⠮⣍⡷⡄⠈⢦⡩⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⣠⣶⡿⠿⣿⣯⣿⣳⣦⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠐⡈⢦⡙⢶⣋⢯⡕⣺⢱⡙⢦⣙⠶⡹⣬⢛⡮⢷⣏⣿ ⣝⡲⣯⢿⣷⣫⣝⡣⢽⣘⠧⡞⣵⢫⡼⣱⢋⠾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⣈⠃⢏⠽⣉⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡽⠀⠀⠈⡷⣝⡎⢲⢱⢊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⡼⣿⣿⣿⡗⡄⠀⠹⡿⢯⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠙⣮⡙⢧⣛⢮⣝⢶⣫⣽⣳⣮⣷⣝⢶⣋⣞⢧⡟⣾ ⢮⡱⣏⠿⣎⠱⢊⡝⠶⣩⢞⡹⢦⡳⣜⢣⡏⢾⣡⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡗⢤⡉⠢⠱⠌⣎⠙⡛⠻⠿⠖⠒⠒⠉⠉⢁⡞⢡⠚⡄⠂⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠻⠿⢿⣋⣀⣀⣼⠷⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠈⠦⡙⢦⡹⣞⢮⢷⣣⡟⣷⣻⢿⣾⡿⣟⣾⣧⣿⣳ ⠲⣙⢎⡓⠌⠤⢁⠈⡑⠤⢋⡼⣣⠷⣌⠯⣜⢣⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡺⡅⢎⡁⠂⡁⠀⠡⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⠃⡐⢂⡉⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣌⢳⣽⣳⣽⣻⢾⣿⢿⣿⣟⣿⣿ ⠓⠈⠀⠉⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠣⢅⢫⡑⠻⣌⠳⢬⢳⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⡙⢦⠉⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢂⠡⢂⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣖⠿⣼⣻⣞⡷⣯⣟⣿⣾⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠒⢬⠑⡀⠣⣸⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢶⡹⢆⡍⢂⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢄⠈⡐⢌⠢⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠤⠒⢌⠫⠖⣭⣛⣧⢷⣯⣟⣷⣻⣷⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⢌⠠⢡⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢧⣛⠦⡘⢄⠊⠄⡁⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⠁⠎⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⢻⣞⢯⡾⣽⢾⣿⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣜⢣⢍⠢⠌⡐⢀⠂⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢹⡅⠂⣠⣤⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⡾⣹⢿⣽⣻⣾⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣮⢓⡎⡔⠡⠐⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠦⠽⠿⠿⠃⠀⠀⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣟⣿⣞⣯⣷⣿⡿⣟⣯⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⢬⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⠷⡸⢄⢃⠂⡐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣻⡄⢀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣌⢿⣼⣻⡿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣠⠴⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢯⡱⢊⠄⢂⠀⠄⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠠⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⢠⣄⣀⣀⢤⢺⣭⣟⣾⡽⣿⢿⣽⣻⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠐⠄⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢭⢣⠎⠄⠂⠀⠂⠄⠠⢴⣦⣴⣶⣶⣶⣻⣷⣦⣑⣚⣲⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣼⢫⣟⢯⡾⡷⣯⣟⣿⣿⣻⣾⢷⣻⣞⣿⢿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠔⠁⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣓⠮⡐⠀⠀⠀⡐⠀⠆⡘⢌⡑⠶⣤⣩⣉⣔⡙⣉⣉⡉⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⢦⡻⡜⣮⢳⣏⣷⢿⣟⣿⡿⣿⢿⣻⣾⣽⢿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠊⢀⣾⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣖⡡⢂⠀⡐⠀⢉⡐⠈⡀⠒⠀⠀⠉⠉⠑⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⡿⣟⡿⣧⡻⢼⡹⣏⠷⣯⣻⣾⣷⡿⣿⢿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣻ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢁⠞⡏⠀⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡳⢆⡒⠄⡀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣹⡯⢿⡳⣽⣍⣟⡶⣫⢷⡿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡅⠐⣿⣯⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣜⡣⡔⣀⠂⠌⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣧⡛⣿⣯⣽⣦⣖⢢⣏⠵⢫⡼⣿⣽⢿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾⡇⠀⢿⣻⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣱⢳⡔⡢⢌⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡽⣿⣿⣷⡼⣷⡷⣬⣛⢧⡚⡜⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣤⣨⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣣⠎⡱⠪⣔⣢⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡠⠤⢶⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢿⣿⣿⣗⣯⣝⢶⢫⣞⣱⡎⠹⣞⡿⣟⣿⣿⣿ ⡔⢦⣣⢖⡥⠂⠀⠀⡠⠶⠿⡾⠿⠿⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢛⠟⡩⠉⠁⠄⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⣌⡳⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢼⣾⢫⣞⡷⣣⢿⣡⣿⣽⣻⣯⣿⣿ ⡘⠥⣋⣾⣳⢿⣦⣙⢥⡔⠋⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⣿⢷⡈⠀⠁⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡐⢦⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢺⣞⣻⢾⣹⢯⣺⡵⣾⣿⣳⣿⣿⣿ ⢈⠆⢥⣻⣿⢿⣿⣻⣯⣼⣆⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢹⣷⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡌⣘⢧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣽⣆⢋⡗⠿⣮⣷⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢌⡘⢄⣻⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡈⣿⣸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⡘⢬⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢿⣿⡝⣽⣿⣾⢎⡵⢲⡴⣻⢭⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠢⠜⡰⢸⡿⣟⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢻⣿⡇⣼⣷⡧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠌⡑⣌⢷⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⣿⣿⡎⣿⣾⣽⣀⠌⠙⠳⣝⢮⡝⠷⡻⣿⠿⠁ ⠤⠦⠤⠾⠿⠿⣛⡇⢼⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣾⣿⡇⠘⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣀⠣⣘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢘⣿⣿⢿⣘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⡜⣇⢣⠛⠄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡞⣡⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢡⣿⣿⠃⢸⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠌⡐⢠⠣⣙⣮⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⠻⣿⣿⣿⡌⣿⣿⡿⣿⠟⠁⠨⢰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣄⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⢾⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⢾⣿⡧⣿⣿⠏⠀⣾⠏⠀⠀⢀⠠⠀⡈⠐⡈⢄⠣⡱⣞⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣹⣄⢸⣿⣿⣿⣽⢯⡴⠋⠀⢀⡇⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠣⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢲⣿⡟⢉⡹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡞⣿⣷⣿⠃⢀⣼⠋⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠐⠀⡁⠄⡈⢆⡱⢏⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⡉⠛⢿⣿⣿⡿⣆⠀⢀⡠⠋⠁⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠢ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣟⡹⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣇⣿⣿⡃⣴⠞⠃⠀⢃⠀⠀⠀⠄⠈⡀⠄⢂⠁⠆⢬⡙⣮⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣄⢺⣿⣿⣿⡟⣧⠘⠀⠀⠀⡘⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣴⡖⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⣿⣿⣿⡴⠃⠀⠀⠀⡘⠀⠀⠀⡐⠀⠄⡐⠠⠘⡌⢢⡙⢶⣹⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡁⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⢀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠠⠀⠌⠠⢀⠡⠡⡘⠤⡙⢬⡓⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⠤⠦⠵⠾⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠱⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠠⠁⠔⢂⠑⢢⠱⣹⠽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⡿⣿⣻⡇⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠈⠢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢐⣠⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠈⠠⢈⠂⠥⢣⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⠙⣁⣤⠞⠃⠀⠀⡀⠀⠈⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣀⣃⣜⣢⠼⠿⠏⢸⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣰⣾⠋⠁⠀⠀⠐⠿⠻⣷⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠈⠄⢣⢞⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡻⣷⡿⠞⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⡏⠀⠀⠐⠠⠀⢷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠌⢢⡛⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡷⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣿⠀⠀⠀⢢⣡⡂⣔⢫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢀⣼⠰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⢧⠹⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣍⠹⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⡙⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠠⣐⠀⣳⢿⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢉⢆⠻⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠾⣡⣾⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢗⠒⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠂⠀⠄⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣦⣜⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⢿⣷⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣬⠓⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡃⢷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠙⢿⣯⣪⠣⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠘⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣧⣶⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣷⣶⣾⣷⣘⣃⣀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣷⣶⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⡿⠉⠉⠉⣁⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠈⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣶⣤⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣴⡶⢿⣛⣛⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⡛⠛⠛⠿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣛⣛⣋⠉⣿⣷⣶⣶⣤⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⢿⣛⣫⣽⣿⡶⠿⢿⣛⣩⣽⣷⣶⠿⣿⣿⣟⢛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡶⢿⣿⣿⣻⡉⠁⢠⡶⠿⣫⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣷⣶⣿⣿⡿⢟⣃⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠎⠉ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣆⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣻⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣰⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⢀⣄⡀⠀⠀⣤⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠉⣽⣦⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣶⣶⣤⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣬⣿⡅⢸⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢻⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⢫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠁⢶⣮⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠙⠃⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣽⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡿⣡⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡇⠀⠀⠘⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⢷⣿⡟⢛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣄⣉⣀⣞⡉⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣽⡇⢺⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡍⠉⠉⠉⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣧⠘⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡜⣿⣿⣿⡽⣷⣶⠀⠀⠀⣀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣧⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣤⣴⡾⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⡧⣿⣟⡇⠀⠀⢿⡀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠿⠟⠛⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡁⢐⡷⠶⢿⡄⣿⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣷⣿⣣⣾⠟⠋⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢽⣿⣷⣾⡿⢟⣳⣤⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⠙⠿⣿⣤⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣀⢀⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⠟⣿⣿⣿⣯⡿⠿⣿⣤⡉⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏ ⠶⠶⠶⠾⠿⢿⣿⣏⣩⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢹⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠙⢿⣦⡀⠛⠙⠃⠀ ⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣄⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⣦⡀⠀⠀ ⣈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⡟⢰⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⣰⡟⢻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣆⠀ ⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣻⣿⣟⠋⢙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣿⡏⣰⣿⠟⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⢠⣾⠟⠁⢸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠷ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣴⡿⠋⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠁⠀⠀⣿⠀⢀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣷⣤⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠁⠀⠸⠏⠀⠀⠈⠉⠻⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⢠⣠⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⣠⡄⠀⠀⠀⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠉⠀⠀⠀⠶⣦⡶⠶⠾⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠈⢻⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠉⣀⣤⠀⠀⠉⢿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢛⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⡿⠛⠀⢠⣤⠀⠙⢷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢦⣄⣀⣀⣤⣾⣿⠟⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠈⠉⠻⣿⢿⣿⡷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢴⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⣽⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠸⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⢸⣿⠁⠀⠀⣿⣤⣄⢘⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣥⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠈⣿⣧⢶⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢹⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 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_________________________¶¶¶¶¶ _______________________¶¶¶¶¶11¶¶ _____________________¶¶¶¶111111¶¶ ___________________¶¶¶111111111¶¶¶¶ __________________¶¶¶11111111111¶¶¶¶¶¶ _________________¶¶111111111111111111¶¶¶ ________________¶¶1111111111111111111111¶ _______________¶¶1111111111111111111111¶¶ _____________¶¶¶111111111111111111111¶¶¶ __________¶¶¶¶¶1111111111111111111111¶¶¶ _________¶¶¶111111111111111111111111111¶¶¶ _______¶¶¶1111111111111111111111111111111¶¶¶ ______¶¶11111111111111111111111111111111111¶¶ _____¶¶1111111111111111111111111111111111111¶¶ ____¶¶111111111111111111111111111111111111111¶¶ ___¶¶11111111111111111111111111111111111111111¶¶ __¶¶1111111111111111111111111¶11111111111111111¶¶ __¶¶¶111111111111111111111¶¶¶¶11111111111111111¶¶ _¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶1111111111111¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶11111111111111111¶¶ _¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶111111¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶1111111111111111¶¶ ¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶111111111111111111111¶ ¶¶1111¶________¶¶¶_________¶111111111111111111111¶ ¶¶111¶_____¶¶¶_¶¶____¶¶_____¶11111111111111111111¶ ¶¶111¶_____¶¶¶_¶¶___¶¶¶¶____¶11111111111111111111¶ ¶¶1111¶______¶¶¶¶____¶¶____¶111111111111111111111¶ _¶1111¶¶___¶¶¶___¶¶_______¶¶11111111111111111111¶¶ _¶¶11111¶¶¶¶_______¶¶¶¶¶¶¶1111111111111111111111¶¶ __¶1111¶¶¶___________¶¶¶11111111111111111111111¶¶ __¶¶1¶¶¶_______________¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶1111111111111¶¶ ___¶¶¶¶___$$$$$$$$$$$$$¶¶_____¶¶¶¶¶¶¶111111111¶¶ ____¶¶1¶¶$$$$$$$$_____¶¶____________¶¶¶111111¶¶ _____¶¶11¶¶_________¶¶¶_______________¶¶¶111¶¶ ______¶¶11¶¶¶______¶¶___________________¶11¶¶ _______¶¶1¶__¶¶¶__¶¶____________________¶¶¶¶ _________¶¶¶____¶¶_____________________¶¶¶ ___________¶¶¶_______________________¶¶¶ ____________¶¶¶¶_________________¶¶¶¶ ________________¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶
ᴾᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ʷᵉ ᵇᵃᵈᵉ ᶠᵃʳᵉʷᵉˡˡ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵛᵃʳⁱᵒᵘˢ ʷᵃˡᵏˢ ᵒᶠ ˡⁱᶠᵉ‧‧‧ ʰᵉᵃʳ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ᴱᵃᶜʰ ᵒⁿᵉ ⁱˢ ˢᵖᵉᶜⁱᵃˡ‧ ᴱᵛᵉʳʸ ⁱˢ ᵘⁿⁱᑫᵘᵉ‧ ᴺᵒ ᵗʷᵒ ᵃʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ‧ ᴵ ʷⁱˢʰ ᴵ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ⸴ ʳᵉᵃᵈ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ⸴ ˡᵉᵃʳⁿ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ⸴ ʷʳⁱᵗᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ᶠˡᵒʷᵉʳ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ‧ ᴸᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ʰᵉᵃᵈˢᵗᵒⁿᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˡⁱᵛᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʳᵉᵖʳᵉˢᵉⁿᵗ‧
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣔⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣽⣷⣳⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣮⢿⡙⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣕⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠸⢻⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡷⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣟⣽⡼⣼⡼⣮⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣯⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣻⣾⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⢟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢏⣟⡏⡍⣷⢹⡾⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣷⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢨⣯⣏⣿⣯⣟⣿⣧⢽⠺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⣿⣿⢹⣿⣽⢷⣿⣽⣟⡏⣿⣿⣿⣻⣸⣿⣧⣹⣼⣿⣞⣝⣻⣿⣏⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣽⣿⣯⣸⣿⡏⣾⢽⣾⢻⣷⣹⡸⣙⣿⣏⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⣯⣞⣯⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠂⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣼⣿⢿⣿⣯⡇⣯⣿⢿⡾⣾⣨⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡘⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣟⣿⣾⣿⣿⣗⡟⣿⢾⣷⢿⣿⣟⣦⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡟⣿⣿⣧⣋⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⡏⣋⠼⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢹⣿⣿⣿⡏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠙⡿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣟⣿⣻⣿⣇⢨⠰⢳⠛⢿⡀⠙⣏⣥⡽⠋⢀⣀⡋⣈⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠁⡧⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⢿⡿⣯⣿⠐⢡⢏⢇⣲⡝⢧⣿⣏⢀⣤⣽⣢⣼⣿⣧⣿⡀⢼⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣤⠤⠤⠶⠚⠽⢻⡄⢱⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣷⣿⣿⡃⠁⠉⠀⡁⢱⣾⠃⠈⢿⣿⣋⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣁⠈⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠍⠀⠀⠀⡀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣷⠱⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣿⣻⣿⣇⠈⠃⠀⢠⠎⡁⠀⠀⢀⡀⡈⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⡌⠀⠃⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⣼⡻⣁⣉⣳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠛⢺⣄⣸⣽⣿⣭⣭⣿⣤⠦⠤⣄⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⠴⡀⠀⠀⠀⣶⣿⣿⣯⣿⣉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣤⣼⣿⢹⡍⣻⣿⡏⣭⣿⠋⣂⣌⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⡿⣏⣿⣇⠑⠀⠀⠀⣻⣷⣭⡻⠬⠧⡯⠿⠿⢿⣿⡿⣞⣦⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣽⣽⣧⣾⡧⢠⣿⢻⡟⣿⣏⣛⣻⡄⢀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢽⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠇⠀⣾⠟⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣧⣼⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣗⢸⣿⣿⣏⡟⠙⢛⢿⣿⢧⣿⣿⡟⢳⡞⢠ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣴⣄⠀⣽⡰⠙⠙⠿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠋⡿⠈⠁⠀⠀⠈⢱⠀⢹⣇⣠⡏⠀⢸ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣨⡼⢾⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠴⡂⠀⠀⠁⠙⡻⣫⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⡖⠀⢀⡄⠘⠀⠘⢿⣽⠀⢠⡟ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠤⠤⠤⠖⠚⠉⠁⠀⠰⢼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣮⣾⣭⡷⢶⣟⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢀⢠⣤⠠⣶⣾⣥⣿⣤⡀⠀⡀⠘⣦⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠒⠊⠁⠢⣉⡉⠉⠳⢶⢖⣄⡀⠀⠉⠁⠀⣿⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠸⠄⣰⣝⣷⢂⣤⣿⠃⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠵⣿⢜⢯⡂⠀⢫⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⣿⣿⣿⢧⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣀⡀⠐⠁⢀⣽⣿⠇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠻⣿⣻⣆⠀⠀⠀⢨⣿⣿⣟⣿⡿⢿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣹⣿⠟⢠⢠⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⣇⡀⣀⣲⣿⠟⠗⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠿⣕⣵⡀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡇⡉⠁⠀⠉⡻⣟⣿⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡿⢁⣀⣸⣸⣸⣱⣸⣿⣿⣿⣟⣺⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢯⣪⣢⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢮⡞⡝⠻⣿⣝⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⠀⢤⡌⠙⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠹⡵⡵⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡵⡄⠘⠛⢷⡉⠙⢻⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣀⣹⣿⣤⣿⢿⣟⣿⣿⡿⡯⠍⠁⠙⣿⣎⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⠘⢎⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠊⣷⣣⣀⠀⠀⠁⠁⠀⠀⣇⡈⠻⣿⡿⣿⣿⣋⠁⠁⢨⣿⣿⣯⠻⠯⢥⡀⠀⠈⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣎⠇⠠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣷⣳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⢁⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣷⣵⣅⠀⣼⣯⣚⣒⡒⠂⠀⠀⠀⢸⡆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡼⣤⠀⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⡷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡻⣗⠀⠈⣿⢧⣿⣿⣻⣷⡂⣹⣿⣀⣚⣯⣍⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡃⡿⡷⡄⢕⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡵⣄⢀⠀⠀⢙⡼⣦⡄⢹⢸⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣽⣾⣿⣍⣣⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡠ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⢀⢃⣷⣋⠙⠦⣍⠯⣗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣮⣧⣀⣀⠀⢱⢸⣷⠹⡟⣿⣮⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⢀⢠⠏⢀⢎⣾⡿⠀⠀⣠⠨⠳⢮⣓⠮⣒⢤⣀⡀⠹⢷⣵⣏⢀⠀⡇⠿⡵⣽⡻⢉⢫⣿⣻⢞⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣤⣰⢂⡤⠃⢠⢮⡾⡿⣁⡠⠔⠀⢀⣠⣤⠾⠝⠢⢭⣒⡫⠶⣊⣿⣾⢷⣵⣖⣮⣞⡿⠁⠀⠀⠸⡿⣯⢆⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⠿⠋⢀⡔⣱⢿⡿⠟⢉⣤⡶⠟⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠊⠉⠁⠉⠙⠒⠶⠤⠷⢵⡾⠛⢉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣵⢻⣿⣗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣧⡠⡴⣫⣟⣵⣯⡶⠞⠋⢁⣠⣴⠲⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣦⡀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠀⢱⠝⢷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣨⣾⣷⠟⣉⣠⣴⠶⠟⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠇⢱⣻⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠸⠀⠙⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⡵⠟⠟⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡝⣵⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠿⠀⠀⠈⢷⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣩⡬⡐⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠏⠸⣵⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣽⢀⡢⠄⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⢸
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https://hopkintonhistorical.org/hopkinton-rhode-island-death-records-1788-1922-a-c/
https://www.nps.gov/klgo/learn/historyculture/upload/gold-rush-cemetery-508.pdf
An Egg September 1, 2012 It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a quick passing. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail ... An Egg Strange and Unexplained / 5 minutes of reading Estimated reading time — 4 minutes It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. You’re so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me. And that’s when you met me. “What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?” “You passed,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point mincing words. “There was a…a truck and it was skidding…” “Yup.” I said “I… I’m gone?” “Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone passes.” I said. You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?” “More or less,” I said. “Are you god?” You asked. “Yup.” I replied. “I’m God.” “My kids… my wife,” you said. “What about them?” “Will they be alright?” “That what I like to see,” I said. “You just passed and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.” You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like a God. Some vague authority figure. “Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.” “Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to the afterlife or something?” “Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.” You followed along as we strolled in the void. “Where are we going?” “Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.” “So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.” “Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.” I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part or yourself into the vessel and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.” “You’ve been a human for the last 34 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we stay out here for longer, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point doing that between each life.” “How many times have I been reincarnated, then?” “Oh, lots. Lots and lots. And into lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 A.D.” “Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?” “Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.” You pondered. “But wait. If i get reincarnated to other places in time, could I have interacted with myself at some point?” “Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own timespan you don’t even know it’s happening.” I looked in your eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.” “You mean mankind? You want us to mature?” “No. just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature, and become a larger and greater intellect” “Just me? What about everyone else?” “There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you, and me.” You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…” “All you. Different incarnations of you.” “Wait. I’m everyone!?” “Now you’re getting it.” “I’m every human who ever lived?” “Or whom will ever live, yes.” “I’m Abraham Lincoln?” “And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too.” I added. “I’m a criminal?” you said, appalled. “And you’re the victims, too.” “I’m a leader?” “And you’re everyone who followed you.” You fell silent. “Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “You were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.” “Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?” “Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.” “Whoa.” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?” “No. Not yet. You’re as a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.” “So the whole universe,” you said. “It’s just…” “An egg of sorts.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.” And with that, I sent you on your way. Credit: Andy Weir
https://www.stsepulchres.org.uk/burials/index.html
NEWEST GUIDELINES ON CANCERS SCREENING OF THE WOMB COMPARED TO PREVIOUS RECOMMENDATIONS SUGGESTED for AFAB people aged ~25-65 yrs. old 2020 Update 2012 old 2018 former rec. Ages <25 No screening Pap test every 3 years Pap test every 3 years Age 25‒29 HPV test every 5 years (preferred) , HPV/Pap cotest every 5 years (acceptable) or Pap test every 3 years (acceptable) Pap test every 3 years Pap test every 3 years Age 30‒65 HPV test every 5 years (preferred) or HPV/Pap cotest every 5 years (acceptable) Pap test every 3 years (acceptable) or HPV/Pap cotest every 3 years (preferred) or Pap test every 3 years (acceptable) Pap test every 3 years, HPV test every 5 years, or HPV/Pap cotest every 5 years Age 65 + No screening if a series of prior tests were normal No screening if a series of prior tests were normal No screening if a series of prior tests were normal and not at high risk for cancer
https://wisconsinhistory.org/Records?&facets=CATEGORIES%3a%22Pre-1907+Vital+Records%22%2cCONTENT_TYPE%3a%22Death+Index+Record%22&nodes=*Research*,*Family*
#KneeSurgery pt. 5 In the living room, Plankton sits in his wheelchair, his leg sticking out, the cast still a stark white. His face is a mask of pain, his eye squinted. He takes a deep breath, trying to rein in his frustration as Sandy and Karen reenter. Sandy's eyes are red, but she smiles weakly at him. "I brought you some water," she says, her voice small. Plankton's antennae droop, his anger at Sandy still lurking. Karen notices the tension immediately. "Why don't you tell us about the surgery?" she suggests, trying to ease the atmosphere. Plankton looks up, his eye narrowed. "What's to tell?" he snaps. Karen sits beside him, her hand on his shoulder. "Anything you remember might help us understand." Sandy nods, her voice gentle. "We're just worried about you, Plank..." But Plankton's had enough. "Sandy, I don't need your pity!" he snaps. The room goes still, the tension thick. Karen's heart breaks for her friend, and she can see the hurt in Sandy's eyes. But she knows this isn't about pity; it's about fear and frustration, about being confined and unable to do the things he loves. Sandy takes a deep breath, wiping at her eyes. "I'm not just curious," she says, finding her voice. "I care about you. Both of you. And I want to he-" But Plankton's had enough. "I don't need your help!" he snaps, the frustration boiling over. Karen's eyes widen at his outburst. Sandy flinches. Karen's voice is calm but firm. "Plankton, she's just trying to help." Sandy nods, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. "I'm her-" "I KNOW!" Plankton cuts her off, his voice harsh. The room is silent, the air thick with Plankton's frustration. Karen can see the pain in Sandy's eyes, but she knows this is about his pride, about not wanting to be seen as weak. "Look," Sandy starts again, her voice softer this time. "I know yo-" Plankton's antennae twitch with aggravation. "I said I don't need your help!" he snaps, his voice echoing off the walls. Karen's eyes fill with concern as she watches her friend shrink back, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Sandy opens her mouth to protest, but Karen shakes her head almost imperceptibly. She knows Plankton's temper, knows that right now, he's in pain and not in the mood for talk. "Okay," Sandy says, her voice barely a whisper. "I'll just...go." She turns to leave, but Karen's hand on her arm stops her. "Let me talk to you," Karen says gently. Sandy nods, wiping at her eyes. In the kitchen, Karen explains. "He's just...he's not used to being so dependent. He's always been the one in charge, the one taking care of things. I can tell when Plankton's in pain, even when he doesn't say anything. He's stubborn, but he's also scared. But I also know he just needs a moment, when he gets like this. It's not you, Sandy. It's just...his way." Sandy nods, her eyes still on the floor. "I get it. It's just...I want to help." Karen squeezes her hand. "And you are. You being here means the world to me. But right now, he needs some space." Sandy nods, wiping at her cheeks. "Okay." They return to the living room, where Plankton sits silently. "Hey," Karen says softly, sitting down beside him. Sandy sits on the edge of the couch, her hands in her lap. "I know this is tough," Karen says, her voice gentle. "But we're here for you." Plankton nods, his antennae still quivering slightly. Sandy's eyes are full of regret, but she doesn't speak, giving Plankton space. Plankton shifts in his chair, his cast making it difficult to get comfortable. Sandy clears her throat. "Is there anything I can do to help?" Her voice is tentative, hopeful. Karen looks at her gratefully. "Why don't you help me get his leg elevated?" Karen suggests. "It might make it more comfortable for him." Sandy nods, eager to do anything to help. Together, they manage to get a pillow under Plankton's leg, supporting the cast. His sigh of relief is palpable. "Thanks," he murmurs, his eye still half-closed. Sandy's smile is genuine. "Anything for you, Plankton." Karen notices Sandy's curiosity still evident. "Why don't you tell us what you remember about the surgery?" Karen prompts him. Sandy's eyes light up. "Did you feel anyth-" "SANDY," Plankton snaps, his antennae standing tall. But Plankton's not ready to forgive her. "It's none of your business," he repeats, his voice cold. Sandy's face falls, and she nods, retreating to the edge of the couch. Karen squeezes Plankton's shoulder. "Remember, love, we're here to support you. That means asking questions, too." Plankton sighs, his antennae drooping, his frustration evident. Karen knows his pride is taking a hit. "Fine," he says. "They had to give me some kind of...of glue, I guess, that makes bones stick together. And then they put this cast on." His hand gestures to his leg, his voice filled with resentment. Sandy's curiosity is piqued. "How does it feel to fall aslee—" But Plankton's had enough. "I don't want to talk about it," he says, cutting her off. His eye closes tightly, a tear escaping. Sandy's face falls, her words forgotten as she watches her friend in pain. Karen squeezes his hand gently. "It's okay, love," she whispers. "You don't have to talk if you don't want to." Sandy's eyes are glistening with unshed tears, and she bites her bottom lip, looking away. Karen knows he's trying to keep a brave face, but it's clear he's struggling. Finally, Sandy breaks the silence. "Why don't we do something else? Maybe play some board games?" Plankton's antennae perk up slightly, his eye opening a bit wider. "That...sounds okay." Karen smiles. "Great. I'll get you closer, on the floor." They manage to move the coffee table and his chair so that his leg can be propped up comfortably. Sandy brings over a board game, as Karen helps him out of the wheelchair and onto the floor. Plankton's eye lights up slightly at the sight of the game, a tiny spark of his usual excitement showing through the pain. Sandy starts setting up, her movements quick and precise, desperate to make amends. Sandy notices him flinching, his hand gripping the cast over his leg. "Do you need a-" "I'm fine," Plankton interjects quickly, his voice strained. Karen nods, understanding his desire for normalcy. They start playing the game, Plankton's mind focused on the strategy. His eye twitches with every move, his antennae perked with competitive spirit. Sandy's eyes are on his face, watching his every reaction. They play in a comfortable silence, the only sounds the shuffling of game pieces and Plankton's occasional grunts. The game is a distraction, but not enough to fully ease the tension. Sandy keeps glancing at him, her movements slow and careful. Karen watches them both, her heart aching for her husband's pain and her friend's regret. As the game goes on, Plankton's eyelid starts to droop again, his hand shaking slightly as he moves his piece. Karen notices and stops him. "Why don't we take a break?" she suggests. Sandy nods in agreement, setting her piece down. Karen helps him stand on his good leg as she reaches for his crutches, handing them to him. He takes them reluctantly, leaning heavily on them as he hobbles to the couch. The room is silent for a moment before Sandy speaks. "Can I get you anything?" she asks, her voice tentative. Plankton sighs, his frustration clear. "Just leave me alone," he says, his voice thick with exhaustion. Karen swallows hard, feeling the weight of his words. Sandy nods, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Okay." She stands up, collecting the game pieces. Karen watches, the tension in the room palpable. Sandy looks at Karen, her gaze questioning. Karen nods slightly, understanding that Plankton needs a moment.
chronically-persistent You know I’ve been thinking, there should be no guilt in experiencing happınᥱss as a disabled or chronically ıll person. We don’t need to suffer every waking moment to justify our experiences and our truths. Joy is a universal right. And that includes us. Feb 14th, 2024
https://www.salempioneercemetery.org/groups/record_group.php
The End From Redditor u/MrCookieCutter: For the first time in recorded history, no humans died today. Granted, that's because the last one died yesterday.
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