Feticide Emojis & Text

Copy & Paste Feticide Emojis & Symbols ᴿᵉˢᵖᵉᶜᵗ ᴸᴵᶠᴱ | ༺✿ڰۣڿ✿༻IN LOVING MEMORY༺✿ڰۣڿ✿༻ | 👶

pls note the ai inflicts emotional damage (ᵕ—ᴗ—)
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As my spirit left my body I could see all my children cradled in the arms of God ✨ I should ask for their forgiveness for aborting them.
* Mar 8 1910 Unknown Unknown Boy Mar 8 1910 Mar 8 1910 Murdered Expressed from Philadelphia *

Related Text & Emojis

ᵀʰᵉ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ ʷʰᵒ ᴱˡⁱᶻᵃᵇᵉᵗʰ ᵗʳᵘˢᵗᵉᵈ ᶜᵒⁿᵛⁱⁿᶜᵉᵈ ʰᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷ ʰᵉʳ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒᵒᵈˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵃʷᵃʳᵉ ˢʰᵉ ⁱˢ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ˢᵗᵃᵇᵇᵉᵈ· ᵀʰᵉ ᵗʳᵃᵍⁱᶜ ˡᵒˢˢ ᵍʳⁱᵉᵛᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ʰᵉʳ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵒʷⁿ·
𝐄𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐡 𝐊𝐚𝐲 𝐎𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐧 🕊 -
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⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣴⣾⣿⣷⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⢿⣿⣝⣛⠿⠿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣾⣿⣿⡍⣉⣻⣿⣷⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡿⣿⣿⣽⣟⣿⣿⣤⣟⡻⠿⣿⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣤⠀⣠⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠻⢿⣙⣿⣦⡄⠀⠀⠀⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣧⣬⣭⣿⣿⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢻⣿⡿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⠋⢹⣿⢿⣾⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢻⣿⣿⣆⠉⣵⣾⡷⣶⣿⣿⢀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣶⣶⡿⠟⠃⠀⠀⠀⠰⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡟⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⠇⠀⢸⣿⣼⣿⣿⣯⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣷⢿⣿⣷⣼⣿⣿⠿⠟⠻⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣦⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⣻⣿⣿⣯⣷⣶⣶⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣃⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣷⡄⠉⢁⣴⣾⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣏⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡟⠀⠀⣿⡿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠻⣷⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⠿⠿⠿⣯⣿⡄⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠃⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⢻⣷⣠⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣇⡀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣾⣿⣟⣿⡟⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠉⢸⣿⠘⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⠛⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣨⣿⠟⠀⠻⠿⢿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⡟⠛⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠏⠁⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣁⣛⣿⠿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣟⣥⣴⣶⣿⢿⣼⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡄⠀⠉⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠷⠆⠶⠾⠿⠿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠙⠋⠙⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⣿⠿⠿⢿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⣀⣿⠙⠛⠃⠀⠀⠙⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣴⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣬⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠿⣿⣯⣰⡆⢠⣤⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⠿⠿⣾⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣻⣾⣥⣤⣾⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠿⠆⠻⣷⣶⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣠⣴⣿⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣤⣼⣿⢿⣯⡍⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣀⠀⠀⠙⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣿⡏⠹⠿⠁⠀⠘⢿⣦⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⣶⢦⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠻⣷⣄⣀⠀⠹⠿⠉⠶⠶⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣶⣾⢹⡿⢫⣭⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣷⣤⣤⢠⣀⣠⣼⣿⣿⢸⣿⡇⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⢿⣦⠀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢳⣿⣿⢾⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⡏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀
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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𝐄𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐡 𝐊𝐚𝐲 𝐎𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐧
Cͨhͪaͣrͬloͦtͭtͭeͤ
💓●💜❤ӄɨʟʟɛʀ❤️💜●💓
⡭⣩⠝⣢⠑⡎⠴⣩⠜⡜⢬⡑⠦⠱⣈⠒⣌⢢⠱⢌⠲⡡⢚⠴⡑⢎⢆⠳⡘⠴⢣⠜⣢⠱⣌⠢⣑⠢⠱⣈⠆⡱⣈⠔⣢⠑⠦⡑⣌⠲⡘⠤⡓⡜⢢⠓⣜⢢⠓⡜⣌⠳⣌⢳⢩⢎⢧⡙⢮⡱⣋⡞⣵⢫⡝⣯⢻⣽⡻⣟⡿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡿⣿⣟⡿⣟⣿⣻⢿ ⢲⠡⠞⣄⠫⡜⡱⢢⡙⡜⢢⠜⢢⠓⠤⠓⡔⢢⠓⡌⠲⣁⠧⢚⡜⢬⢊⠵⣉⠮⡑⢎⡔⢣⠆⠳⡄⢣⠓⡔⠪⢔⢢⠚⡤⢋⠖⡱⣈⠖⣉⢖⡱⣌⠧⣏⢶⣩⣽⣸⣌⣳⡌⣣⢍⣾⣶⢿⣷⣷⣿⣼⣎⣷⡹⣎⡷⢾⡽⣏⣿⡽⣿⣳⣿⢾⣿⣽⡿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⢿⣿⡿⣿⣷⣿⣾⢿⡿⣿⡷⣿⣻⢿⣳⡿⣟ ⡇⣍⠲⡌⢒⡡⢃⢇⠲⣑⠢⠚⠤⣉⠒⡩⢰⢁⡚⠰⡑⢆⢪⠱⢌⡲⣉⠖⣌⠲⣉⠖⣌⠣⢎⠣⡜⣡⢊⠴⣉⠖⣈⠳⣈⠎⡜⣡⠆⣝⣬⣮⣷⣿⣿⣛⣮⣷⡿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣵⣿⣿⣮⢷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣻⣏⣷⢻⠾⣽⣳⢯⣟⣯⣷⢿⣻⣟⣿⡿⣿⣾⢿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣽⣿⡿⣿⣿⢯⣿⣿⣾⢿⣽⡿⣿⢿⣽⡿⣽⡿⣯⢿⣽ ⡜⣠⠓⡌⠦⡱⢉⢎⡑⢢⠅⣋⠒⠤⡉⠴⢡⠒⣌⠱⠌⢆⠱⣊⠦⡱⢌⡚⢤⢣⡑⢎⠴⣉⠮⡱⡘⡔⣊⠖⣡⢚⡡⢓⣌⢚⣜⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣟⣿⡳⢯⣟⣾⣳⢯⣟⣯⢿⣳⣿⢿⣽⣿⣻⣿⣽⣾⢿⡷⣿⣟⣾⡿⣟⣾⣽⢿⣯⢿⣻⣯⡿⣽⣯⢿⣽⣻⢾ ⡜⢤⢋⠴⢡⡱⡉⢖⡨⢃⡜⠠⢍⠢⡑⠌⠦⡑⠤⢃⠎⠤⢣⠜⡰⢩⢆⢭⠒⢦⡙⢬⠒⡥⢎⡱⠱⡜⢤⠛⡤⣃⢞⣱⣮⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⣳⢯⣟⡾⣽⣻⣽⢾⣻⣽⣾⣻⢾⣽⣾⣻⣽⣟⣾⣽⣻⢯⣟⡾⣟⡾⣿⣽⣳⣿⢯⣟⣯⣷⢿⣻ ⣍⠲⢌⡒⢡⢒⡉⢦⠑⣊⠔⡩⢂⠥⢃⠎⡱⢈⢒⡡⢊⡱⢢⡙⢔⠫⡌⠶⣉⠦⣙⠢⡝⡰⢊⠴⣩⠜⡢⢝⡲⣭⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡾⣽⣳⣟⣾⣻⡽⣞⡷⣯⣟⡷⢯⣷⢻⣞⡷⣯⣟⣯⢿⡽⣯⣟⡷⣯⢷⣯⣟⣯⣟⡾⣿⣽ ⡜⢌⢢⡑⢌⠢⠜⢢⡑⢌⠢⠱⡈⢆⠣⡘⢄⠣⡘⢄⠃⡆⡱⡘⢌⡓⡌⠳⢌⡒⡅⠓⡌⢥⡉⢖⡡⢎⡵⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣻⣞⡷⣯⢿⣽⣻⣳⢯⣻⢟⣼⣻⠾⣝⣷⣛⡾⣏⣿⢳⣽⡻⣽⣻⠾⣽⣞⣯⢿⣳⢿ ⢣⢎⠰⠌⣂⠣⡘⢄⠒⡌⢢⠱⡈⠤⢃⠜⡨⢐⡡⢊⠔⣡⠂⣍⢢⠱⢌⢓⠢⡔⡌⡱⢘⠢⠜⣢⢱⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡿⣽⣻⢮⡷⣏⣿⣹⣞⣳⢯⠿⣽⣺⣭⢷⡻⣞⣻⢮⣟⣳⢯⣟⣷⣻⣞⡿⣽⣻ ⢇⠎⡜⢡⢂⠱⡈⢆⠡⡘⠤⠑⡌⠢⡍⢢⡑⠢⡔⢡⠊⠤⡘⡄⢢⡙⠤⣉⠒⡌⡔⡑⢊⠵⡘⣦⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣯⢟⣳⡟⣼⡳⢾⣭⢟⣻⢧⡷⣛⡾⡽⣭⢷⡻⣞⣭⣟⢾⣳⣟⡾⣽⢯⣿ ⡏⢼⣈⠧⢨⡑⢌⢢⠑⣌⠢⢍⡰⠡⢎⠡⡜⢡⡘⠤⣉⠆⠱⡈⢆⡘⠰⢄⠣⡐⠡⢌⡡⢎⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⢯⡷⣛⣷⣛⢯⡞⣯⣛⣾⣹⡽⣳⡽⣹⡞⣷⣛⣮⡽⢯⡷⣯⢿⣽⣻⢾ ⡻⢴⡨⢖⡡⢎⠰⢊⠔⣨⠒⡌⡔⣑⢊⠴⣘⠰⣈⠱⣀⠎⡁⠒⠄⡌⠑⠢⡁⢌⡑⢢⣜⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣛⣶⢫⣟⣼⢳⡝⡶⢧⣛⣧⢻⣵⢻⣵⡻⣮⡽⣯⢿⣽⣻⢾⣽⣻ ⣝⢦⡙⢦⠱⣊⠕⡪⠜⣠⠓⡌⡔⣈⠖⢢⢡⠒⠬⡑⢄⠒⢡⠉⡔⠨⠌⡑⢨⠐⣨⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡿⣜⡯⢾⡜⣯⢾⡹⣏⢷⣚⢯⢾⣹⢶⣻⣵⣻⡽⣞⡷⣯⣟⡾⣵ ⡯⢶⣙⢧⢣⢇⣎⠱⣃⢆⠳⢨⠔⡨⠜⣠⠃⡌⢣⠜⡂⢍⢂⠡⡐⠡⠊⠤⠁⢎⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⡝⣧⡻⣼⢣⣟⡼⣣⢟⣮⢳⣝⡾⣳⣞⡷⣻⡽⣞⡷⣽⠾⣽ ⣽⢳⢎⡧⢫⡜⢦⡹⡐⢎⡱⢃⡜⠰⣡⢂⠝⡠⢃⠆⡉⢦⠈⡒⠌⡡⢁⢊⡑⣮⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡿⣲⡝⣮⢳⣎⢷⡹⣞⡼⣳⢮⢷⣛⡾⣽⣳⢿⣹⢯⣟⣻⣳ ⣷⢫⡞⡵⢣⡝⢦⡓⡍⣎⠔⡣⢌⡱⠢⡌⣒⠡⣊⠴⢑⠢⡑⡌⡐⢡⠌⢢⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢧⡟⣮⢳⣮⢳⡻⣜⣳⡭⣟⡾⣽⣽⣳⢯⣿⣹⣟⣾⣳⢯ ⣯⢳⡭⣏⡗⡺⣥⢛⡴⡘⢎⡱⢊⠔⢣⡐⢆⡱⠢⡜⣠⢣⢐⠢⡑⢂⠎⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⢻⡽⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣹⢞⡳⣮⢗⡯⣝⡶⣻⣵⣻⣳⠾⣽⣛⣮⢷⣻⢾⡽⣯ ⣯⠷⣝⡾⣜⡳⣬⠳⣜⡱⢣⠜⣡⢎⡱⢌⠲⣐⢣⠒⡥⢊⡬⢣⠱⣉⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣟⠻⣜⢮⢳⡜⣫⢽⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢯⣳⠽⣎⢷⣫⣞⢷⣳⢯⣽⣻⣳⢟⡾⣯⣟⣯⣟⡷ ⣟⡿⣹⡞⣵⢫⡳⡝⢦⡹⣑⢎⡱⢢⡑⢎⠵⡘⢦⡙⡜⡱⣘⠣⡝⣬⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣯⠳⡜⣬⢛⡜⣎⡳⣚⡥⢏⡶⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢧⣏⡿⣹⣞⣳⡽⡾⣭⣟⡶⣯⠷⣯⣟⢷⣻⢮⣷⣻ ⣏⡿⢷⣹⡎⣷⢹⠾⣁⢷⢉⡶⢁⡇⡎⢇⡾⢁⢷⡸⢸⢁⢇⠹⣶⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣁⠿⣀⠿⡸⡆⢏⡸⢶⢇⣹⠸⣇⠾⢷⡎⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣿⢹⣷⣉⣷⢿⣹⢷⣏⣹⡾⣿⢷⡾⣏⡿⣿⡾⣷ ⣿⣹⢯⣳⡝⣮⢏⡽⡜⣎⡳⣘⠧⡸⢜⢣⢎⡙⢦⡱⢍⠎⣌⢣⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣏⠳⡜⢥⢣⠝⡲⢡⠫⣌⠳⣍⠮⡵⣛⢬⡛⡶⣙⠶⣹⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⣻⡖⣿⡼⣛⣾⣻⣼⣳⢟⣧⢿⡽⣏⣿⣳⡟⣷ ⣿⣭⣟⡧⣟⡼⣫⢼⡱⢮⡱⢣⠳⣙⢎⢎⡼⡑⢎⠴⣉⠞⣰⢣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣍⠳⣌⠳⣉⠞⡤⢛⡌⢣⢓⢬⠓⣬⠳⡱⣍⢮⡱⢧⣋⢾⡱⣏⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢷⣛⣧⠿⣽⢶⣛⡶⢯⣟⣞⣯⣽⢻⣼⡳⣟⣳ ⣟⡾⣼⢳⣏⠾⣕⢯⢞⡱⣍⠧⡛⢬⣊⠮⠴⡙⢎⡲⢡⢎⡧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢟⠏⡦⢓⠬⣓⢬⢣⣑⠫⡔⡫⢜⢣⢍⡲⣍⠲⣍⡳⡜⢦⣛⠶⣙⢶⡹⣎⡿⣽⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣼⣻⠽⣞⣭⣟⣻⡼⣞⢶⣫⠿⣼⢻⡵⣫ ⡿⣽⣹⡗⣮⢻⣜⢺⡜⣱⠎⢧⣙⠲⣌⡚⣥⠙⡎⢥⠓⣼⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⠻⣍⢣⡜⢎⡚⢥⢋⠖⣡⠚⡦⢌⣣⠱⡣⢍⠺⡤⢳⣌⢳⢣⠳⣭⠳⣜⡹⢎⣧⢳⡝⢾⡱⢯⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⣧⡟⣯⣛⢾⣜⣧⢻⡝⣞⢧⠿⣭⡗⣯⡵ ⣟⡷⣫⢞⡵⣫⡜⣣⠞⣥⢛⢦⢣⠝⣤⠓⣬⡙⡜⣢⠹⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣯⠲⣍⠶⣩⢖⡸⢆⡙⢦⡉⠞⡤⢋⠴⣉⢦⢓⡹⢌⠳⣌⠳⣌⢧⣋⢗⣣⢛⡬⢳⡝⢦⡫⣜⢧⡛⣧⢻⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢖⣯⢳⣭⢷⣚⢮⡳⡽⣎⢯⡟⣼⡹⢶⡹ ⣟⢾⡹⣏⢞⡵⣎⢧⡛⡴⣋⢦⢣⣋⠦⡛⣤⢙⡴⢡⣛⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣧⢿⣼⣹⣼⣶⣧⣾⣴⣭⣮⣱⣌⡳⢬⡍⣞⡰⣃⢧⡙⡎⡵⢪⡱⢎⠦⣍⠞⡴⢫⣜⢣⠞⣥⢓⡾⣌⡟⣼⢣⣟⢾⡽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡼⣳⢎⡿⣜⠯⣝⡳⣭⢳⡝⢶⣹⢣⡝ ⣯⢯⡳⣝⣚⢶⣩⠶⣙⠶⣩⢎⠧⣌⢳⣉⢦⠣⡜⣡⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣷⣻⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠻⡟⡿⢿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣶⣷⣭⣶⡹⣜⡱⢣⡝⣎⠳⣎⡝⣎⣳⣎⣯⢿⣮⣷⣾⣼⣾⣷⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡳⡝⡾⣱⠞⡽⢎⢷⣩⠳⣞⠳⣎⢳⡚ ⣟⢮⡳⣝⡎⢷⢬⡳⢭⣚⠵⣊⠷⣘⠖⡬⢒⡱⢜⢢⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢻⡽⣿⡿⣯⣳⡭⣖⡻⢼⣱⣋⡶⣍⣾⡹⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⡝⣣⠞⡜⣧⠳⣜⢮⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡵⣋⢷⡹⣙⢮⡓⢮⡳⣍⠷⣊⢧⡝ ⣯⢷⡻⣼⣩⢏⡶⣹⢣⢎⡳⣍⠞⣥⢚⡥⢋⡴⢩⢞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣏⠿⣵⣻⣷⣳⣟⣾⣽⣿⣟⣟⣟⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣾⣷⣯⣟⣾⡱⣏⠞⣡⢫⡙⠶⣙⢮⣏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣾⣵⣿⣾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡼⣭⠧⣽⣩⢶⡹⣇⠷⣜⢣⠟⣦⢝ ⣟⣮⢗⣧⢳⣏⢾⡱⣏⠾⡱⣎⡝⢦⢫⡔⡫⢔⡭⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡽⣞⡽⢪⡷⣿⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡽⣺⠷⣭⡚⣅⠢⣍⢳⡭⣞⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡳⡵⣋⡖⢧⢮⠵⣎⠗⡮⣝⡺⣜⢮ ⣿⣼⣛⣮⠷⣎⣷⡹⣎⠿⣱⣚⠼⣣⠳⣜⡱⢎⡖⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⢳⡚⢧⡻⣽⢻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣴⣿⣿⡧⢳⣩⢟⣵⢫⡖⡱⣌⡳⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣙⢧⡝⡮⢧⣛⣬⡛⡵⣣⡝⡼⣒ ⣟⣶⣻⣞⣻⢽⣲⢟⣭⢻⡵⣪⢟⡲⣝⢦⡙⢶⣩⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⣧⠻⣭⢳⡍⣧⡛⣬⢛⡞⢾⡹⢿⡿⣿⢿⣷⣯⢷⡖⢧⣓⣮⢟⡼⣫⡽⣱⢎⣵⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⡷⣹⢯⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣫⠞⣼⢱⢏⡖⣦⠽⣱⢣⢞⡱⡭ ⣿⣞⡷⣽⠾⣭⢯⣛⣮⢷⡹⢧⡻⣜⢮⣎⠽⣎⡵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡼⣻⡜⣣⡝⢦⡝⡶⣍⢞⡳⣙⢧⢻⢭⣻⢹⣹⢖⡯⣻⢾⣎⢯⣳⡭⣗⡹⢎⡶⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣵⢫⡗⡿⣯⣟⡿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⡻⣬⢣⢏⡞⡴⣋⡖⣏⢎⠷⣱ ⣿⢾⡽⣯⢿⡽⣯⣟⡾⣭⣟⢯⣳⢽⡺⣜⢿⣼⡽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣷⢳⣝⡳⣎⡳⢎⡵⢎⢯⡵⢫⣞⡽⢾⡱⣏⡖⢯⡜⣯⠳⣎⡟⣶⣹⢎⡽⡹⣜⢷⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡽⣧⢿⡵⣳⣏⣾⢳⣟⡾⣽⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣕⡣⡟⡼⣜⢳⡱⢎⡧⢫⡝⢦ ⣿⣯⢿⣽⢯⣟⡷⣯⣟⡷⣞⣯⢷⣫⣗⢿⣺⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⣯⢞⡵⣣⠝⡮⡜⡭⢎⡳⢯⠼⣭⠳⡝⢦⡛⢮⡑⢣⡟⣼⣽⢣⣏⠾⣱⢻⢼⣫⡷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣽⢿⡷⣯⣞⡷⣯⣟⡿⣾⢿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡮⣕⠻⣜⡬⢇⡏⢧⣙⡳⣜⢣ ⣿⣿⣻⣯⣿⢯⣿⣳⣯⢿⡽⣞⣯⢷⣫⢿⣵⣳⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⣧⠿⣜⣱⢋⠶⣙⠲⡍⢞⡩⢞⢲⢫⢝⡲⢩⢆⣹⣳⢿⣹⢯⡳⣌⠳⠩⢎⠳⢯⡽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⢫⣽⢳⢯⡝⡷⣯⢿⡽⣯⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢭⣛⠴⣹⢎⡞⣱⢣⠳⣌⠧ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣯⣷⡿⣯⢿⡽⣞⣯⣟⡿⣞⡷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⡿⣜⠮⣝⠲⣍⢲⢩⠦⡙⡎⡥⢏⡞⣜⡳⢎⡷⣿⢎⡳⣍⠳⣜⢦⡓⢮⣙⣮⢷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣜⣫⢞⣹⢳⡽⣺⡽⣿⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡩⢞⡱⢎⡞⣡⢇⡛⡴⢋ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡿⣿⣽⣿⣟⣿⢯⣷⣿⣻⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢾⡽⣮⢟⡼⢳⡜⣣⢚⡲⡱⢥⡛⢾⡜⣮⠓⣭⠲⣹⢿⣵⣾⣿⣿⣾⡝⣧⣿⣾⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡜⣧⢚⡧⣝⢧⣟⣷⣻⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣙⠮⡱⢩⠖⡥⢎⡱⠜⡥ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣻⣿⣿⣻⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢯⡿⣽⣮⢳⡗⣮⢇⣏⠶⣙⢧⣛⢧⡟⢦⠛⣤⠓⡥⢎⡛⢿⢷⡞⣣⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣻⢿⡿⣝⢮⡝⣮⡝⣾⣞⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⡰⢅⡋⢖⡡⠎⡴⣉⠖ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡟⣷⣻⢧⡿⣜⡾⣬⠯⣝⢮⡝⣮⣝⢮⡙⢦⡛⣜⣣⢝⡫⢖⡹⢬⡳⣏⢷⠺⣼⣹⣟⡿⣷⣿⣯⣟⣯⡾⣝⢦⡝⣶⣹⢷⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡘⢆⢩⠒⣄⢋⠔⡢⢎ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢏⡷⣫⣟⡾⣽⡺⣵⠻⡜⣧⣿⠿⣜⢮⣙⢦⡝⢦⡓⢮⡱⢎⡝⡮⡝⡮⣍⠷⣣⢗⡾⣽⣟⣾⡽⣞⣷⣿⡽⣺⣜⣳⢯⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡭⢌⢂⠣⣐⠊⠴⡑⡌ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡽⢾⡱⣏⡾⣵⢻⠼⡹⣍⢯⣿⣟⣾⣣⣟⡾⣜⢧⡝⣦⣙⣮⣵⣫⢵⣫⣜⣹⣜⣯⣽⣳⣿⢾⣟⣯⣿⣿⣿⣵⢺⡭⢿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡌⢊⠅⠢⢍⢒⡡⠜ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⡳⣏⡳⣝⢮⡏⣽⠳⣍⢯⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣹⡞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡜⢢⢉⠱⢌⢢⠘⡌ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⣭⡳⣝⠾⡼⣡⠟⣬⢓⡮⡱⢎⡽⣿⣿⣷⣽⣎⣽⣭⣣⣏⣞⣹⡻⣙⣯⣟⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡙⣶⡹⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⠰⡈⢆⡡⢂⠭⡐ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣖⡻⣜⣯⢳⡕⢯⡒⠯⡔⡥⢫⡜⡽⣻⣿⣿⣿⢿⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣮⢳⡲⣝⣻⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠤⡑⢂⠔⡉⢆⡑ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⡳⡾⣝⣞⡣⣝⢣⠽⣘⢧⡚⣵⢣⢇⡏⠿⢯⡽⣞⣿⣟⡿⣯⣿⣽⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣾⣳⡽⣞⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠒⡌⠰⡈⠔⡨⢐ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣻⣼⢳⣬⢳⡹⡜⡦⣝⢦⡛⣮⠜⣏⡳⣽⢹⢮⡝⣻⢏⠿⣭⢟⡽⣯⣟⣾⣿⣿⣿⢯⣿⣞⣷⣻⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠈⠤⠑⢌⠰⡁ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡞⣿⣷⣿⣞⡷⣮⢇⡳⣝⡲⡝⢦⡝⢦⡛⠴⡑⣎⠳⢎⡽⣱⢫⠟⣎⢯⣳⢳⡻⣾⢿⣳⣿⡿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣎⠰⠉⢄⠱⢀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡱⢯⣿⣿⣿⣽⣯⢷⣧⡝⣞⢧⡚⣥⢋⢧⡱⣊⠵⣚⠴⣣⢏⡞⡭⣞⡵⣫⣝⣾⢻⣯⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡑⣈⠢⢁ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢏⢷⡚⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⣳⡹⣆⡛⢦⡱⢎⡱⢎⣇⠳⣎⠼⡱⢞⡼⣳⢞⣾⣻⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡗⢳⣄⠎⠤ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢧⡝⡵⢫⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣟⡶⣭⢳⣙⢮⡱⢫⣔⣫⡜⣣⢻⣍⢾⡱⣯⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢢⡙⢎⡔ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⢧⠞⣙⡳⢎⡷⣻⢿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣯⣞⣧⣟⣳⢮⣳⣝⣧⣻⣼⣯⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠸⡌⢶ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⢻⡴⣙⠮⣕⣫⢗⣻⣽⣻⣟⡿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡱⡜⡜ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠞⣌⢳⡚⣴⣋⠷⣎⠷⡾⡽⣏⣿⣻⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣜⡜ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣳⢥⡚⡴⢩⡞⡼⢫⢵⡻⣵⡳⡽⣞⣳⣟⣾⣟⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡜ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢯⣿⢮⣳⡕⢣⢚⢥⡛⢶⡙⣶⢹⡳⣝⡳⣞⣳⣟⡾⣟⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣏⠷⡎⣆⠹⣆⠹⣆⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⡾⣎⣹⣏⡿⣏⣷⣿⢿⣿⣿⣏⣿⣏⣿⣹⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⠷⣎⠿⣿⣷⡜⣆⡛⣬⢳⡹⢦⣙⣎⡳⣝⡳⢯⣳⢏⡿⣽⢯⣟⣿⢯⣿⢾⣳⣻⠼⣯⢿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣷⣿⡲⣍⠳⡜⡜⢦⢣⡝⣣⡓⣮⠵⣫⣝⣣⢟⣯⣻⡽⣯⣟⣾⣻⡽⢯⡳⣭⢟⡽⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯ ⡿⠿⠟⠋⡘⡬⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠳⣌⠳⡜⣙⢦⡓⢮⠵⣙⣖⢫⢷⡸⢧⡟⣶⢏⣷⣻⢞⡵⣯⢽⡳⢯⡝⡾⣽⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷ ⠄⠂⣘⣠⠰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡟⡏⢶⢩⠖⣍⠞⣥⢲⡙⣎⠯⡕⣮⠻⣜⡹⢧⡻⣜⡻⣼⢳⡯⢿⡜⣧⣛⢧⡟⣽⣳⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟ ⣶⡿⣟⣿⣿⠽⢟⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢦⢳⠹⣌⢣⢋⡞⣬⢛⡴⢣⣛⣬⡛⣼⢱⣛⡼⣳⢏⡷⣭⢳⣭⢳⡝⣧⣛⢶⣙⢮⡽⣳⢯⣟⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢟⡲⣭ ⢧⡻⣝⡾⠟⠀⢿⡷⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⢣⡛⣬⠣⢏⠲⡍⢮⡔⡎⢧⡚⡵⣊⠶⣙⠶⡭⡖⣽⢒⡯⢺⢥⡛⣴⣋⢞⡱⣎⢧⠻⣜⣳⢯⡿⣽⣻⢷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⢿⣙⡿ ⠙⠋⢭⣤⣦⠀⠀⠁⠈⢃⡿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢏⠯⣝⡫⡝⣌⢎⢣⠱⢆⡹⢌⠧⡙⣆⡚⢥⡣⢝⡲⣍⡳⣭⢳⡹⣜⢲⢏⡞⢧⢫⡵⢲⡍⢮⡕⣎⢞⡹⣜⢧⡟⣞⢷⣹⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡶⣙⠦⣿⣱ ⠸⣧⠐⡀⢀⣠⠀⠀⠐⠖⣠⣯⡹⣮⠻⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣭⢉⠩⠛⠙⣿⡛⣏⠻⢴⡙⣎⠳⣜⠲⡱⢎⢎⡬⡙⢦⠱⣊⠖⡩⡔⣩⠲⣙⢬⡓⣬⢓⢮⡣⢷⡸⢣⡞⡼⣩⢖⡹⢦⡙⢶⠸⣌⢞⡱⣎⢷⡻⣜⢧⣛⣮⢟⣻⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣙⡮⠵⣿⢋⡟⣒ ⠀⠛⠀⢻⡙⠋⠀⢼⣔⠨⣿⣿⡍⠨⠹⢸⡎⡉⢉⡋⠹⠍⠓⠨⠀⠀⣼⠧⡙⡤⢋⢦⠹⣰⢋⡜⣥⢓⡍⢮⠴⣙⢦⢣⡑⢎⠵⡘⡤⢓⢬⡒⡽⣰⢫⢖⡭⢧⡹⢳⡜⣱⢣⠎⡵⢢⡝⡬⢳⡜⢮⡱⢎⡧⣝⢮⣛⡼⣎⡽⣲⣝⡳⣏⣿⢻⣟⡿⣇⠎⢯⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⢩⣾⣱⢋⢦⣉⢖⣹ ⠀⠈⣿⣿⢻⡶⣦⠘⣿⡃⣦⣬⡑⠶⣅⢊⠑⡐⡁⢤⠀⠀⢆⢆⠀⠀⠘⣷⡱⢨⢑⢪⡑⢆⢏⡔⢎⡱⢊⠧⡝⡼⣘⢦⡙⡎⣖⡱⣡⢋⢦⡱⢎⡵⢋⡞⣜⣣⡝⣣⠞⣥⢣⠛⣬⠓⣜⠸⢥⣊⢧⡹⣍⡞⣭⠞⡼⣜⡲⢵⣣⢞⡱⢏⡞⢯⡞⣵⠏⢨⣘⡎⣿⡜⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⢯⣱⢚⢋⣆⠻⢷⣈⡎⡰ ⢠⠀⢻⣿⣳⣚⡽⣷⠘⡀⢿⣿⣷⠀⠢⠘⠌⢻⠐⡀⢁⠀⡄⠸⠀⡀⣰⣿⢁⠎⡜⢢⠍⡎⡜⡘⢦⡙⡍⡞⣱⢣⡙⢦⠛⡼⣰⢑⢦⣋⢦⡱⣍⢖⣫⢜⡶⣣⢽⡱⣋⠶⡩⠞⣤⢋⠦⣋⠶⡨⢖⡱⢎⡵⣊⢟⡱⢎⡝⢮⠲⡭⡝⢮⣙⠞⣜⢿⠀⡆⠈⠷⣽⠸⢿⡰⣍⢻⢻⣿⡻⢿⠛⢭⡿⡌⢿⣿⡿⢏⢣⠙⣮⡉⠦⡉⢂⣿⠔⠇ ⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣷⣝⣾⠀⣿⠆⠁⣬⡂⣿⣤⢳⣴⣅⢴⡘⡇⠁⡄⠁⠀⢹⣧⠎⡜⣌⢣⠚⡴⢱⡉⣆⠳⡜⡸⢄⢧⡙⣎⠹⣔⢣⢞⣢⠳⣌⠳⣜⢎⡖⣫⠶⣭⢳⡹⣭⠳⣍⠳⣌⢎⡱⡱⢪⢱⣋⠼⣍⠶⣙⢮⡱⢫⣜⢫⠳⣕⠻⣜⡬⣛⠬⢾⠃⡀⠰⡏⢠⠃⡀⠐⡢⣿⠠⠈⣙⡟⢠⠀⠹⢸⣷⣾⠘⡎⣅⡣⠜⡁⠃⡜⠠⠛⣈⠙ ⣦⠀⢀⠈⢠⡛⢩⣤⠄⠈⠀⣴⢟⣿⠙⠆⢨⠹⡿⠌⣁⠊⣇⠘⠀⡀⠘⢿⣗⡸⢤⢃⠯⣔⠣⣕⠪⣕⠪⣕⠪⢖⡱⣌⠳⣌⠖⣎⠶⡹⣜⠳⡜⢮⡹⣥⠻⣜⢧⣛⣖⠻⣌⠳⡜⡬⢣⡕⢫⠖⣬⠳⣌⠻⡜⢦⣙⠷⣬⢓⠯⣜⡹⢆⣳⣙⢮⣻⡄⠄⢸⡇⠰⠀⢀⡦⢡⠌⠆⠄⠘⠠⠉⢀⡁⣆⣙⣃⠈⡧⠘⠧⡒⠡⡘⠀⢹⠀⡉⠆ ⠀⠀⠘⠃⠀⣧⢙⠯⠁⠀⠁⢀⣲⢘⣡⣌⡑⢳⢀⣷⠨⣗⠹⠋⠀⢸⡌⠈⢻⣵⢊⠮⡜⣌⠳⣌⠳⣌⠳⣌⢳⡉⠶⣡⠳⣌⡛⣤⢫⡕⣎⢳⡙⣮⠵⣣⢟⡼⣣⢏⢮⡝⣮⡹⣜⡱⢣⠞⣥⢛⡴⠳⡜⣳⡙⢮⡜⡳⡬⢏⡞⡴⣙⢮⡕⣎⢶⡩⣿⠉⠀⠀⢡⢺⢰⠇⠻⠘⠰⣼⢂⣧⡘⢃⠀⡀⠹⢋⠈⠛⡉⢔⡿⠐⠀⠄⠚⠠⠄⠙ ⠈⢀⡀⠀⠀⠸⡔⠾⣟⠀⢀⠈⠋⣼⡎⠛⡉⡘⢈⣛⠣⡙⣃⠀⠀⢘⡷⠀⢨⣿⣋⠶⡱⣊⠷⣌⠳⣌⠳⣌⢧⡙⣇⢧⣋⢦⡹⣔⢣⠞⣬⢧⡹⢖⣫⢵⣫⢶⡹⢎⣧⢛⡴⢳⡜⡱⢏⡞⢦⣋⠶⡹⡜⣥⢛⢦⡹⢵⣙⠮⣵⢩⠗⣮⡜⡞⢦⣓⣿⡗⠀⠈⠃⠏⠊⠤⢸⣷⡁⠀⠐⣿⣷⢈⡖⣼⣿⣿⣿⣗⠈⢆⡰⡇⠡⢘⠂⢐⠂⡌ ⠆⠀⠁⠀⠓⠑⢸⣶⣈⠂⣿⣮⢸⣿⣿⠀⡀⠄⣿⡿⡒⠀⢢⢃⡧⠌⢡⠀⠂⢹⣷⢎⡵⣩⢞⡬⢳⣍⠳⣎⠶⡹⡜⢦⡙⢦⠳⣌⢧⡛⣴⢣⣛⢮⣱⢳⡎⣷⣙⢯⡜⡯⢞⢧⡻⣙⢮⠞⣵⢊⠷⣍⡳⢧⣋⢮⡕⣫⢼⣙⠦⢯⡹⢦⡝⡼⣓⢮⡟⠀⠂⡉⠅⢐⢃⠨⢐⠹⠢⣄⢈⠻⢟⠳⢳⣿⣿⣿⣿⡗⢈⢢⡇⠈⠂⢸⠊⠄⠂⡔ ⢂⠈⡘⠀⠀⢂⠘⣿⣿⡦⠿⠗⣲⣎⣅⢺⡿⠲⠝⠉⠠⠁⢾⡧⢰⡧⠚⡀⠌⣰⣿⡚⣴⢋⡶⣩⢗⢮⣛⣬⠳⡝⣜⣣⡝⣣⠟⣜⡲⣝⡲⣣⡝⣶⢩⡗⣾⣡⠟⣼⡹⣜⢯⣚⡵⢫⣞⣹⡒⢯⡝⣲⡝⣮⠹⣞⡼⣱⠳⣎⢯⠧⣏⠷⣹⡱⢫⣾⡇⡁⠐⡄⠘⠂⢄⠚⡈⠦⠡⠀⢺⣿⣿⢃⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⡗⢮⢈⣔⠉⡀⠘⢃⠘⡐⡘ ⠌⠡⢀⠄⠁⠤⠈⣿⣿⣿⢄⣇⢻⣿⣿⡇⢀⡀⠰⣿⠯⠔⡈⠱⡍⢦⠠⡀⠂⠌⣿⢧⡝⢮⣱⠳⣎⠷⡱⢮⠽⣙⡞⣴⢛⣦⠻⣬⢓⡮⢵⡓⢮⠳⣏⢾⣱⢫⡝⣶⡹⣎⠷⣍⣞⡳⣜⠶⣹⢣⢾⡱⢞⣱⠻⣜⢮⠵⡻⣜⡣⣟⠼⣫⠵⣭⢳⣞⠇⠠⠁⢂⠁⢊⡄⢣⠁⢦⠁⡌⢹⡿⠿⢸⠎⣿⣿⣿⣿⠰⡊⢦⡌⢆⠁⢲⢈⠰⠠⡙
⢭⡙⢬⠱⡘⢦⡑⢎⡱⢊⠴⣡⠒⡔⢢⠱⢌⠢⠱⡌⢦⡑⢎⠴⢃⠞⡤⢣⠜⣢⠱⡌⢒⠴⣈⠒⢬⠐⡢⢅⠲⠌⠦⡑⠦⡘⠴⣡⠚⡔⢣⠚⡔⡣⢎⡱⢎⡱⣍⠮⣱⢍⡞⣱⣋⢞⡭⣏⢯⡻⣽⣻⣟⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡿⣿⣻⣟⡿⣟⣿ ⠦⣙⢢⠣⡙⢆⡜⢢⠱⡉⠖⣠⠓⡌⢆⠓⡌⠲⣑⠘⢦⡘⢎⡜⣡⠚⡔⢣⠚⡤⠓⡜⢢⠒⡤⢋⡔⢣⠒⣌⠳⢌⢣⡉⢖⡉⠶⣡⢞⣜⣣⠿⣼⣵⣮⣵⣊⠵⣨⣷⠷⣿⣾⣷⣿⣾⣼⣹⢮⣽⢳⣳⢯⣟⣷⣻⡾⣷⣿⣻⣿⣻⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⡿⣿⣻⣿⣷⣿⣾⢿⡿⣿⢷⣟⣿⣻⣟⣾ ⢣⠒⢬⠡⣙⠢⢜⡡⢣⠑⣡⢂⠱⡈⠆⣍⠐⢣⠌⡃⠦⡙⢦⡘⢤⢋⡜⣡⠙⡴⠩⡜⣡⢃⢆⠣⡜⠤⢋⠴⣑⢊⠦⣙⢦⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣽⣾⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⣯⣽⣛⢾⣳⢯⣟⡷⣯⢿⡾⣟⣷⡿⣿⣟⣿⣯⣿⢿⣷⣿⢿⣿⣟⣿⡷⣿⢷⡿⣿⣟⣿⣯⢿⣞⡿⣾⣽ ⠣⣍⢢⠱⣄⠫⠔⡬⡑⡌⠰⡈⢆⠱⡘⠤⡉⢆⢊⠔⡡⢍⠲⡘⢆⢣⠒⡤⢋⡴⠣⠜⡤⢋⢆⠳⣌⠣⣍⠲⣌⢾⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣯⣞⣟⡾⣽⢯⡿⣽⣻⣽⣟⣯⡿⣯⣿⡽⣿⣻⣾⢿⣳⡿⣯⣟⣯⣿⣻⢷⣻⣷⣻⣯⡿⣽⣷⣻ ⠳⡰⢌⠒⡤⢋⠜⠤⡑⡌⠱⢌⠢⡑⢌⠆⡱⢈⡌⢢⢑⢪⠱⣉⢎⠦⣋⠜⣡⠎⡱⣉⠖⣩⢊⠵⣌⠳⣬⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣽⣟⡾⣽⣳⣯⢷⣯⢿⡽⣷⢯⣟⣷⣻⣞⡿⣽⣻⢷⣯⣟⡾⣽⢯⣟⡾⣯⣷⢿⣻⢾⣽ ⢣⠱⢨⢘⠰⡉⡌⢣⠑⡌⠱⡈⢆⠱⡈⢆⠱⡈⠴⡁⢎⡰⢣⡑⢎⠲⡡⠚⡤⡙⢤⢃⠞⡤⢋⠶⣬⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣷⣻⣞⡿⣞⣯⢿⣽⣻⡞⣷⡻⢾⣽⣳⢯⣟⡾⣭⢿⡽⣻⢾⣽⣳⢯⣟⣯⡿⣾ ⣃⠓⡌⢢⠑⢢⠘⡄⢣⢈⠱⡈⢆⠱⡈⢆⠱⡈⢆⡑⠢⠔⣣⠘⣌⠣⠅⡍⡰⡑⡌⢢⡙⢴⣫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣯⢿⡽⣞⡿⣎⣷⣛⡷⣽⣻⠶⣯⣛⡾⣝⣯⣻⣝⡯⣟⡾⣽⢯⣟⡾⣽⣻ ⣌⠣⢜⠠⣉⠆⡡⠘⡄⢊⠔⡡⢊⠔⡡⢊⠔⡡⢂⠌⡑⢊⡄⠓⠤⡙⢌⠒⡡⢒⡡⣃⢞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡿⣝⣳⠿⣜⡷⣫⢷⣫⣟⣳⢯⣽⣛⡶⣽⣺⠽⣽⡽⣞⡿⣾⡽⣯⢿ ⣌⠳⣌⠒⡄⢎⠰⠡⠜⡠⢎⠰⡁⢎⡰⢉⠆⡱⢈⠆⠱⡈⠔⣉⠢⠑⡌⢢⢁⢃⢶⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡽⣯⠿⣝⡾⣝⣳⢯⣞⡽⢾⣱⣏⡾⢧⣯⢟⣧⢿⣽⣻⣵⣻⣽⣻ ⢮⡱⢌⠣⡜⢢⠡⣙⠢⡑⢌⡒⡉⠆⡔⢣⠘⡄⠣⢌⠡⡐⢡⠀⢣⢁⠒⠄⣊⣼⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣻⢽⡺⣝⣮⢗⣮⢻⡭⣗⢮⣽⢻⣼⣛⣮⣟⢾⣳⢯⡷⣯⣟ ⣧⢹⣌⠳⣌⢣⠚⣄⠓⡌⢆⠱⢌⠒⣉⠆⡱⢨⠑⣂⠒⡈⠤⠑⡂⢌⠢⣑⣮⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡗⣯⢳⣎⠿⣜⡳⣽⢺⡝⣮⢟⡶⣻⢞⡾⣏⣿⣫⣽⣳⢯ ⣮⢳⡬⢳⡌⣖⠩⢆⡹⢐⡊⢱⡈⠜⠤⠚⡄⢣⡘⢄⠂⡅⢢⠁⢂⠢⣁⢶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⢎⡷⣺⠽⣭⢳⣭⢳⡝⣮⢻⡼⣏⡿⣽⣛⣶⣻⢞⣳⢯ ⣞⣳⢺⡱⣚⢬⡓⢎⠴⣃⠜⢢⡘⡘⠬⡑⡘⠤⡘⢄⡊⢄⠡⠌⣂⠱⣬⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣜⢧⡻⣜⣳⢮⡳⣽⣚⣧⢿⣹⣽⣳⣟⡾⣽⢯⣟⣯ ⣟⡼⢣⡳⣍⠶⣙⢎⢲⠡⢎⡱⠤⡑⢢⡑⢌⠢⡑⢢⠐⡊⠔⡨⢐⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣝⣮⢳⡝⣮⡳⣽⢲⡽⢮⣛⣧⣟⡾⣵⣻⣽⣻⣞⡷ ⣾⣹⢳⡽⣜⣣⢝⡪⣅⢏⠲⡘⢤⢙⡰⡘⠤⣃⠹⣄⢣⡑⢎⡑⣮⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡿⣙⣎⢳⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡼⢧⡻⣵⢻⡜⣯⣞⣯⣟⡾⣵⣻⢷⣻⣞⡷⣯⣟ ⡷⣯⣳⡝⣮⠵⣮⠱⣎⣌⢣⡙⢆⠎⡴⣉⠖⣡⠓⡬⢆⡙⢦⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢟⢯⢳⡹⣜⡱⣎⢧⡛⢶⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⢧⠿⣜⣧⢟⣳⠾⣵⢾⡽⣳⢯⣯⢷⢯⣟⡷⢯ ⣟⡷⢧⣻⣜⡻⡔⣏⠶⣘⠦⣙⡌⢮⠱⣌⢚⡤⡛⠴⣉⠎⣧⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣛⢬⢋⡞⢆⡳⢌⡳⢬⢧⡹⢖⣭⣚⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡻⣝⣞⢯⣻⡽⣏⡿⢾⣽⣳⢯⣾⣻⢾⣽⣻ ⣯⢟⣯⣳⢎⡷⣹⢬⡓⢧⡹⡰⢜⡢⢏⡜⢪⠔⣍⠲⢡⢺⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡟⡥⣓⠭⢆⡳⢸⠱⣘⠬⢳⡍⢶⡙⣎⠶⣩⠞⣝⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣝⢾⣫⢷⣻⡽⣽⣻⢶⡯⣟⡾⣽⣻⣞⢷ ⣟⣿⢺⡵⣻⡜⣧⠧⣏⢳⢲⡙⣆⠳⢎⡼⢡⢋⠴⣉⢞⣱⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢫⡕⡚⠴⡡⢞⢢⡑⡣⠝⡤⢛⢦⡙⢦⡛⣬⢓⢧⠻⣬⢳⡽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣮⢿⣹⡞⣧⣟⣳⣭⢷⣻⣭⠷⣏⡷⣞⢯ ⣟⣞⡯⣗⢧⡻⣜⠳⣎⠳⡆⡽⣈⠳⢎⠴⣃⠎⡖⣡⢏⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢟⢫⡱⡙⢦⡘⣍⠣⡕⣪⠱⡜⣡⠏⡴⢋⠦⡝⢦⡛⡴⣋⡞⡽⣜⣣⠿⣼⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣭⢷⣛⣧⡟⣾⣱⢟⡶⣫⣟⡽⣳⢏⡯ ⣟⡾⣽⣚⢧⠽⣜⢫⡜⢣⣓⠲⣉⠞⡬⢲⡡⢞⢸⡸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡛⡝⣢⠕⣪⠑⢦⡙⠦⡑⢎⡱⢜⠢⣇⠳⣐⢫⠜⣭⢚⡝⡲⢭⢳⡱⢎⡗⢮⠵⡻⣜⢯⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⢺⣝⢶⡻⣵⢫⣞⡳⣝⢮⢷⣹⢎⡷ ⣯⡽⣖⢯⢞⡹⣬⠳⣜⢣⡜⢣⡍⢮⡑⠧⡜⣌⠲⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣯⡝⣦⠝⡼⣐⢯⡰⢍⡲⣉⠖⡩⢆⡱⢊⠗⣌⠳⣌⢣⢞⡰⢫⡜⢭⢣⢧⡙⢮⡙⢧⢫⠵⣋⠾⣜⡷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢻⡜⣧⠿⣜⠷⣮⢽⡺⣝⢮⠳⣏⢞ ⡷⣝⢮⡝⣎⠷⣌⠷⣊⢧⣚⡱⢪⠕⣊⠗⡸⢄⣻⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣽⣷⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣶⣿⣾⣵⣫⣜⣭⣚⡬⢳⣌⠳⡎⡼⣑⢎⢧⣋⠶⣙⡧⣽⣊⣧⢻⣭⣻⣼⣛⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡧⣟⡼⣛⡼⣫⡜⣧⢛⣬⢳⣛⣬⢋ ⣿⡹⢮⡝⣮⢓⣎⡳⣍⠶⣌⠳⣅⡛⣌⠞⡱⢊⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡾⣽⣿⢿⡻⢯⣝⡲⣥⢫⡜⣹⣛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡬⢳⡙⢶⡩⢞⢦⣛⣾⣿⣽⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⢶⣩⢗⡺⢥⣛⣜⢫⡜⢧⠺⣔⢫ ⣷⢫⢷⡹⡖⢯⡜⣱⢎⡳⣌⠳⡜⡴⢊⡜⢥⣋⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡼⣏⡿⣯⣟⡷⣮⣷⣽⡷⡿⣷⢿⣿⣷⣯⣿⡿⣽⣻⢯⡟⣝⠣⡝⡲⣙⢎⢧⣻⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣽⣯⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢧⢏⣞⡱⣏⠶⣎⢧⡹⢎⡽⣌⡳ ⣯⡻⢧⣛⡭⢷⡹⡵⣎⡳⣜⡹⣌⠳⡍⣜⢢⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⡵⡻⣜⣯⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡯⢷⡽⣬⢓⡌⡱⣍⠞⣮⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⣛⡴⣛⡬⣓⢞⡬⢳⣙⠶⣩⢳ ⣷⣻⢻⣼⡹⣧⡻⣵⢣⠷⣌⡳⣬⢳⠱⡎⢶⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⠽⡱⣝⡞⡿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣿⣟⣧⢹⡹⣞⡵⢧⡚⢴⢪⡽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢣⣗⢣⠷⣩⢞⡼⣣⢝⣎⠳⣍ ⣯⠿⣽⣚⣷⡳⣟⡼⣫⢷⣩⢳⣬⢣⡛⣜⢣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⢫⡵⣫⣜⢳⢣⡝⢮⡝⡞⡽⢿⡿⣿⢿⣾⡳⣞⢦⣣⢟⡮⣝⡻⣜⢣⡻⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣱⢯⣝⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡳⢎⣝⡺⣕⢺⠲⣍⠞⣬⢛⡬ ⣿⣻⢷⣻⢶⣻⣝⡾⣣⣟⡼⣓⢮⢧⡝⢮⡳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⡯⣵⢣⡞⡭⢞⡜⣧⢚⡭⣝⡣⢟⡭⣏⢷⡹⣎⢷⡻⣎⢷⡽⣹⢎⡷⣹⢞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢾⣜⡳⢯⡟⣯⣟⡿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡝⢦⣓⢮⣋⠷⣸⢹⢬⠳⣍ ⣯⣟⣾⡽⣯⢷⡯⣷⣻⣼⢳⣏⣟⢮⣝⣧⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣜⣧⠻⣜⢣⢞⢲⢫⡞⣼⣹⠻⣜⡭⢎⡗⢮⢏⢷⣩⠷⣝⢧⡞⣼⡱⢯⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⢾⣹⡗⣯⢷⣹⡾⣽⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡜⡧⡝⡦⡝⢮⡕⣫⢎⡳⢎ ⣿⣾⢯⣿⡽⣯⣟⣷⣻⢞⣟⡾⢾⣹⢮⣟⡾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⠾⣜⡻⣌⠳⣎⢣⠧⣙⠶⣱⢛⡜⢮⡹⢸⠡⣎⡷⣽⡻⣜⡣⣝⠲⣝⣻⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⡻⣟⣷⡻⣽⣯⣿⡽⣯⢿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⡳⡝⡼⣙⢦⡙⢦⡛⣬⢣ ⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣟⣾⢷⣯⣟⡾⣽⢯⣟⣿⣺⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣻⣝⡲⣍⠳⡜⢢⠹⣌⠳⣉⠾⡜⣣⡜⣣⢛⣼⢯⡝⣳⢥⢓⣈⠱⣊⠵⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣝⣳⢮⡽⢶⣹⢞⡽⣯⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡵⢫⠼⣱⢣⢏⢧⡙⡆⢧ ⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣽⡿⣯⣷⡿⣽⣯⢿⣞⣷⡿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡷⣮⢳⣎⡳⣍⢣⡝⢢⡙⣬⢳⣙⢦⡽⡘⢏⣿⣧⢞⣱⣮⣷⣎⡳⣭⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡗⣮⢳⡹⢎⡿⣝⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡩⢞⡡⢏⡜⢢⠝⣘⠦ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣷⡞⣧⠾⣧⠿⣴⢿⡾⢷⢶⠻⡜⣦⠿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣴⢧⡿⢻⡾⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢳⠞⣷⠞⡼⢣⠟⡆⢧ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢷⣻⢾⡼⣱⢞⣱⣋⢧⣛⡼⣹⢞⡱⢎⡣⡝⣬⠳⡜⣭⢛⡼⣱⢟⡿⣛⠿⣿⢿⣿⢿⣽⢾⣽⣫⢞⡵⢮⣝⣳⢿⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⠘⡤⢋⠴⢩⡘⠜⡤ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣯⡽⣫⢿⣝⣯⡳⣝⢮⢧⡝⣷⢯⡝⢮⡱⣙⢦⡛⡜⣆⠯⡴⢫⡞⡽⣩⢟⣼⣻⡽⣿⢯⣟⡾⣽⣏⢾⡱⣏⡾⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡘⢤⠋⡔⠣⡌⡑⢆ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⣝⡧⣟⢮⡷⣹⢎⠷⣎⢿⣟⣳⡞⣧⢳⡭⣖⡹⣜⢢⡽⡜⣧⣝⡲⣱⣚⢮⣷⣻⣽⣯⣿⣽⣿⣞⣧⣛⡾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠢⢃⠌⡱⡐⡉⢆ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡞⣵⢫⡞⣵⢫⡞⢧⡛⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣶⣷⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣱⢻⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⠜⣠⠓⡄⢣⠑⣊ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣱⢏⡾⣱⢏⡼⢣⡝⢮⡙⢦⣛⣿⣿⣯⣽⣍⣿⣛⣭⣋⡟⣟⣻⢻⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠻⣜⢯⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡜⣀⠒⡌⢢⠃⡔ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣎⢷⡹⣮⠵⣣⠝⣦⡙⢆⢧⢫⢿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣧⢻⣌⠷⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣖⠠⢃⡘⢄⠣⠌ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⣯⡽⣞⢧⡝⡺⠴⣙⢎⣎⢳⡎⢶⡩⢟⡽⢯⣟⣷⣟⣯⣿⣽⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡾⣯⡞⣽⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠃⠆⡰⢈⠆⡑ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡿⣽⢧⡻⣕⢫⡜⢮⡜⣣⢞⡣⡝⡭⢞⡽⢪⢽⡹⣫⡝⣧⣛⡷⢯⣷⣻⣿⣿⣯⢿⣟⣷⣻⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡌⠒⢠⢁⠢⡁ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡟⣿⣿⣻⡽⣞⣧⢞⣣⠞⣥⢏⠶⣉⠶⡩⢜⡩⢖⡭⢣⣛⠶⣹⢞⡽⣚⡿⣷⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡁⠆⢂⠥⠐ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡞⣵⢻⣿⣿⣿⣾⣻⣼⡻⣴⢋⡞⣥⠳⣡⢃⡞⡱⢎⢧⣙⢮⣓⢯⡞⣭⢷⣻⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢎⡐⢂⠅ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡽⣜⣣⠞⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣹⡜⣦⢛⡴⣃⢞⡱⣋⠶⣩⠖⣭⢮⠽⣭⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡘⠵⡇⠌ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⢧⢧⠻⣜⢯⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⢫⡶⣭⢞⣱⣝⡺⣥⢻⣜⣯⣟⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢒⠹⣌ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⢶⡙⡜⢮⡜⣾⡹⣯⢿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣾⣷⣯⣷⣿⣿⣾⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⡱⢸ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⡝⡜⡣⢞⡴⢫⣗⡻⣞⡯⣟⡿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣍⢣ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⡶⣩⠞⡸⢳⢬⢳⡹⢞⣳⢻⣭⢟⣾⣻⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢣ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢾⣽⣏⡾⣑⠣⣎⢣⡝⣎⢧⡻⣜⢯⡞⡽⣯⡟⣷⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡟⡿⣷⣏⡱⡌⢧⢚⡜⢦⡳⡝⣮⣝⡳⢧⠿⣽⣞⣯⣷⣿⣻⣿⢿⡽⣯⢿⣽⣻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⡹⣕⢯⡟⣷⠹⡌⢧⡚⣥⢳⣙⡖⣮⢝⣯⣛⣧⡟⣾⣳⢯⡿⣽⢯⡿⣹⢞⣧⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⠿⡛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢞⢤⣋⠼⡱⡜⡲⣭⢲⡹⣜⠾⣴⢫⢶⡻⢷⣯⠿⣽⢯⣏⡷⣹⠾⣭⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷ ⢋⠁⠠⡀⢼⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⡙⣎⠲⣌⠳⣥⢹⡱⢣⣇⢻⠼⣙⢮⢏⡯⣟⣻⢼⡻⣝⠾⣜⡳⣭⢻⣷⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿ ⣤⣶⢿⣿⣞⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣏⠽⡸⡅⢞⡬⢳⣌⡳⣌⢧⡙⡷⣸⣙⢮⡝⣮⣛⡼⣣⢏⡷⡻⣜⡻⣜⡳⣭⢷⣳⢿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢫⣽ ⡻⣜⢯⡿⠇⠼⣷⡝⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢟⡱⢎⠳⣡⠝⣢⢞⡡⢖⣱⢚⡬⢳⡕⢧⣋⢮⡝⢶⡹⣜⢣⢏⡞⡵⣩⠞⣥⠻⣜⣯⡽⣯⢷⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢾⣓⡿ ⠙⠊⣭⣤⡄⠀⠁⠀⢃⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⣏⠻⣏⠝⡜⢪⡑⢎⠣⡕⢎⡱⣊⠵⣩⠲⣍⢞⣱⡚⢧⢞⡣⢞⣣⠽⡬⢏⡞⡼⣱⢣⢛⡬⣛⡼⢶⡻⣝⣯⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⡙⢦⣽⢳ ⠸⣇⠀⣀⣀⡄⠀⠐⠲⣠⣯⣹⣎⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣭⢉⠩⠋⢻⡟⢏⠻⡜⢦⡹⢌⡳⣘⢮⡘⢧⠸⣡⢋⡜⣌⠲⣡⠚⡴⡙⡜⣎⠶⣹⢣⢞⣱⢋⠶⡹⣜⢣⠞⣔⢣⢎⣣⠳⣍⣞⡳⣝⠾⣜⢯⣛⢿⣻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣳⢇⠿⣏⡹⢣ ⠀⢋⣀⣏⡉⠄⠸⣦⡠⢿⣿⡄⢈⠇⣿⠁⠌⡉⠙⠉⠁⠰⠀⠠⣿⠘⣌⠳⡘⢆⠳⣉⠶⣉⠦⣙⢦⡛⣔⢣⠜⡤⢓⠴⣉⠖⡹⢜⢦⡛⣴⢋⡞⣬⣋⠷⣱⢊⡵⢚⠬⡚⡴⣃⢻⠴⣍⢾⡩⢟⣬⠳⣝⠮⣝⢯⣏⣿⢻⡽⡇⠜⣹⢿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡞⢼⡷⣊⢷⠰⣡⠻ ⠀⠈⣿⣿⡹⢷⣆⢻⠇⣶⣶⡌⠳⠌⡌⣡⠡⠐⡐⢀⠃⢦⠀⠀⢸⣗⠨⣒⠩⣌⠳⡌⠶⣉⠎⡕⣎⠶⣩⠞⣬⢱⢩⡒⡥⢚⢥⣋⢖⡹⢴⡫⣜⠶⣩⠞⣡⢋⡴⢋⡜⡱⢆⡝⢮⡹⣬⠳⣝⡺⣌⢟⡬⣛⣬⣓⢎⡳⢯⣽⠃⠘⣴⡫⡗⣻⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⡳⡬⢋⡵⢉⡟⣥⡇⠜ ⠰⠀⠹⣷⣽⢎⡿⡆⢤⡛⠿⠷⡀⡡⢘⡈⢃⢂⠤⡄⠆⠈⠀⢀⣿⠣⡱⢨⠱⣌⠲⣉⠞⡤⢋⡜⡸⠲⣅⣋⢦⢋⡖⣩⠖⣭⢲⡱⢎⡵⢣⣛⡼⣹⢥⡛⡴⢋⡴⢃⢎⡱⢎⡜⢦⠳⣌⢻⡔⡳⢬⣋⠶⣩⠖⡭⢎⡳⢫⢽⡀⠁⣨⡱⠏⠛⠣⢣⢼⡙⢿⣙⡫⠐⣹⡋⣜⣻⡛⢣⡒⢩⣮⢐⠣⢠⣹⠇⣋ ⡀⠀⠀⡈⢻⠿⠞⠁⠹⠃⢈⣾⡗⢟⡂⢿⣿⡜⠇⡣⡀⠇⠀⠀⢿⣧⡑⢣⢓⡌⢳⡈⢞⡔⢣⠜⡱⡓⡴⢊⡖⣍⢲⡱⣚⠴⣣⠝⡮⣜⠧⣏⡼⣣⠷⡹⣜⢣⢎⠵⣊⠵⣊⡜⣎⠳⣍⠶⣩⠳⣍⢎⡳⢥⣛⡜⣣⡝⣣⢾⠀⠀⣸⠄⡃⠀⣀⢃⠻⡈⠀⠼⠁⠖⢀⠱⠿⡛⠡⡗⢸⡄⢢⠀⠍⢂⡌⢲⡀ ⠙⠀⢰⠀⢳⠠⡿⠆⠀⠄⠋⣸⠣⠈⠤⡣⡉⢥⡒⡆⢷⠤⠀⣄⠌⢿⣜⠣⡎⣜⠱⡸⣅⢎⡓⢮⣑⢣⢣⡍⡖⡬⢣⠧⣙⢮⡱⣋⠶⡭⣞⣥⢻⡱⣏⠷⣩⢞⡸⡜⣡⠳⣥⢚⡬⣓⢎⣳⢱⢫⡜⡹⣜⢣⠞⡼⡱⢎⢧⠻⣧⠠⠚⠠⢐⡀⣾⢸⢢⢁⣠⢂⡁⣤⠂⠐⢲⣶⠠⢧⠑⣘⡆⢁⠈⢠⠆⠀⡅ ⠐⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⢡⣥⠀⠀⠘⠇⣲⡻⠗⠉⠇⠿⣆⠿⠋⠀⠀⢸⡄⠀⣿⣓⡱⣌⢳⡱⣘⢎⡼⡱⡜⢦⡓⣬⠓⣥⢋⡞⡱⢎⡵⣩⠞⡵⣚⠶⣋⡗⡮⢏⡵⢮⡱⣙⢦⡛⡴⢫⠴⣩⠞⡴⣋⠶⣩⠗⣎⢧⡛⡶⣙⠮⣍⠷⣻⠠⠀⠰⢹⢣⢃⠠⣦⠈⠙⢸⣿⡄⢡⢌⣴⣶⣶⡄⠪⠜⣰⠰⠀⡆⠈⡁⡄ ⠄⠘⠂⠠⠔⠌⣔⠫⠄⣶⣔⣰⣿⡇⢀⠈⣸⣶⣦⠐⢡⢢⡄⠘⡀⠠⠹⣷⢢⢇⢧⡓⡭⢎⠶⡱⢎⢧⡙⢦⡛⡴⢫⡜⣱⢋⡖⢧⡛⣵⢫⣝⡳⣼⡹⣎⠷⡭⢶⣙⢦⣛⡜⣣⠻⣔⡻⢴⣋⠞⣥⢻⢬⣣⠝⣶⢩⡳⢭⢞⡿⠀⡐⢒⠀⠤⢈⠘⢻⢅⢀⠘⡿⠿⠼⣼⣿⣿⣿⣏⠁⢾⠈⠂⠀⡇⠐⠠⡐ ⡀⠀⠒⠀⠀⠄⣿⣿⣦⢹⠯⣨⣙⡁⢾⠦⠜⠋⢁⠂⣼⡆⣵⠆⠇⠠⢁⣿⡏⡞⢦⣛⡜⣏⡳⡝⣎⢧⣙⢧⡹⣜⢣⠽⣡⢏⡞⣣⢟⣬⢳⡎⡷⣥⢻⡼⣍⠿⣡⢏⡶⣍⡞⣥⠻⣌⣳⠳⣎⢿⡰⣏⢞⡦⣻⠜⡧⣝⢮⣻⠁⠀⠰⠀⡃⠰⠈⡜⢂⠄⡉⣺⣶⡿⠐⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⡜⢨⡑⢂⠀⠏⠘⠀⡍ ⠌⠡⢀⠈⠄⡐⢼⣿⣿⢄⡆⢿⣿⣿⠈⣀⠂⣿⠯⠔⠀⢪⠜⡄⢌⠐⡈⢻⣾⡙⣖⢣⣞⡱⣭⠳⣎⢧⢫⣖⢳⡎⡽⢎⣳⠺⣜⢳⡺⡜⣧⠻⡵⣎⠷⣓⢮⣛⣥⡛⢶⠭⡞⣴⠻⡼⣡⢟⡼⡲⢇⡻⡜⡶⢭⡻⠼⣜⢮⣽⠇⠌⡐⢁⠐⢡⠣⡐⢡⠂⠄⢿⠿⠇⣟⢻⣿⣿⣿⠰⣉⣎⢡⠈⠰⠄⡉⠔⣘
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⢠⡀⣀⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣶⣶⠶⣶⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣾⣧⣍⣀⣀⣤⣿⠿⣿⣿⣷⣴⣿⣿⣧⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣥⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⠿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣯⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣤⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢻⣿⣿⠿⠃⠀⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⣹⠿⠉⣤⣿⣷⡏⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣭⣭⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣾⣿⡄⠀⠀⢰⡇⠀⠀⢰⡆⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⣿⣿⣷⣭⣍⣛⣛⣁⣉⣉⣻⣟⣋⣭⣛⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠈⢛⠀⠀⠀⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⢷⡆⢛⡹⣯⠉⢉⣹⣿⣿⡿⡿⠿⢏⡉⣉⠉⠉⢀⣠⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠆⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣶⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠘⠃⠈⣉⡉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠎⠹⠿⢶⡆⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠀⠀⣰⣿⣟⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠁⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡼⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡿⠃⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠙⢿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⠀⠙⢿⣷⣠⣄⡀⢠⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣶⠟⢶⣿⣿⣿⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⢡⣤⠰⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠆⢀⣼⠛⠘⣻⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⢿⣦⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡏⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⢷⣄⠀⠉⠻⢷⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡶⠁⠰⠿⡋⢀⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡄⠙⠃⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡏⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⠸⠆⠀⠀⠀⠉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠭⠛⠛⠶⠶⠤⠤⠤⠤⠄⠶⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⡷⣦⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⢧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⣻⣧⣴⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡻⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄ ⠀⠀⣠⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣈⡛⠈⠻⢿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣼⣷⣾⣷⣤⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁ ⡴⠾⠟⠋⠁⠀⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⡟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠁⣀⣀⣤⡰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⡿⠷⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠿⣀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀ ⠿⠛⠉⢻⣿⡿⣟⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⢻⡟⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⡀⠙⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⣤ ⠀⣀⣤⣶⠿⠃⢿⡿⠟⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠰⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⣸⡿⠐⠂⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠉ ⠀⠛⢩⣶⡶⠄⠈⠁⠀⠀⠸⣿⡍⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣦⣰⣿⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣤⡀⠀⠘⠿⣰⣯⣽⣿⣝⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⠀⠉⠉⢹⣿⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠈⠛⣻⠿⠿⠛⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣾⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡉⣥⠀⠿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣀⣿⣟⠛⠀⢿⣧⣸⣿⣿⣯⠈⠉⣾⣇⠉⠉⠛⠛⠉⠛⠀⠀⠀⣾⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠸⣿⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡎⢹⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠈⣿⡏⠙⠻⣶⡼⣿⡇⣶⣾⣅⠶⠆⣨⠛⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⣶⠀⠀⠘⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡟⠀⢀⣌⢿⣌⣽⡿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣛⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⣥⠘⢋⡁⠸⠿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢻⣷⡄⠀⠸⣿⡟⣁⢿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠸⠇⢿⠆⠀⢀⡀⠀⠘⠀⠀⣼⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡄⠀⠀⠻⢾⡾⣿⡄⠀⣽⣿⣿⡍⠿⠟⢹⣿⠉⠻⣿⠿⢟⡀⠙⣶⡈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠹⢿⣷⣀⣿⠇⣿⡇⠠⣤⣄⣿⣦⣿⣶⣦⣶⣾⣷⠀⣦⠀⠀⢿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⢰⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣿⠇⠉⢹⡿⣀⠀⠁⢸⣿⣿⠗⠎⢁⡀⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⡀⢠⣍⣩⣷⡀⠀⠀⣿⢾⣿⡰⠆⢾⡿⠿⠇⢀⡘⣷⣀⠀⣀⠘⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⠀⢸⡟⠀⠀⢠⣿⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⢠⣄⣀⢰⣇⠘⠃⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠘⠃⠘⣷⣽⠛⠃⠀⠀⢠⣾⠟⣣⣤⡀⣿⣄⣿⣾⣷⣿⠏⠀⢻⣇⠈⢿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⣶⢸⡟⠻⠀⠰⣾⢦⣶⡜⠃⠀⠈⠻⠿⠈⠛⠀⢰⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⠗⢿⣿⠀⣀⠀⢛⣾⣿⠛⠁⠙⣋⣛⠋⠉⠉⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠨⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠿⠛⠀⢸⣿⡀⠀⢸⣿⣷⣆⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠰⠆⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⢰⣶⡀⠀⣿⣷⣼⣿⣿⢀⣀⠀⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠰⣷⠈⣭⡀⠀⢹⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢳⡆⠈⠛⠿⠟⢣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⢸⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣷⠿⠿⣸⣯⣍⣸⣿⠃⠙⠋⠀⠀⢿⣷⢸⡿⠿⠇⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⢇⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⢰⣦⢿⣿⣿⡏⠁⠀⠀⣿⡿⠀⠀⢰⢎⣶⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾⡿⠿⠸⠟⢿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
ᄽ☺☻☺ᄽ
────(♥)(♥)(♥)────(♥)(♥)(♥) 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.
ᴾᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ʷᵉ ᵇᵃᵈᵉ ᶠᵃʳᵉʷᵉˡˡ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵛᵃʳⁱᵒᵘˢ ʷᵃˡᵏˢ ᵒᶠ ˡⁱᶠᵉ‧‧‧ ʰᵉᵃʳ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ᴱᵃᶜʰ ᵒⁿᵉ ⁱˢ ˢᵖᵉᶜⁱᵃˡ‧ ᴱᵛᵉʳʸ ᵒⁿᵉ ⁱˢ ᵘⁿⁱᑫᵘᵉ‧ ᴺᵒ ᵗʷᵒ ᵃʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ‧ ᴶᵘˢᵗ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘ⸴ 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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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
♡⃛₊⁺˖‎𐦍˖⁺₊♡⃛
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tumblr_a3f9c07cd39385f1b046b1b521edfeab_0ff7e001_1280.jpg ⣿⣿⡿⣭⢏⡿⣽⣻⣟⡿⣏⣟⣻⣟⡯⢧⠁⣊⠿⣽⢿⡿⣟⣯⢿⡽⣫⢟⡧⢣⣏⠿⣭⡳⢍⠂⠉⠉⠳⡱⢢⠰⣬⠳⡍⢾⣽⣯⡗⣧⢚⡱⢌⢦⡐⢀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⣀⣦⣙⡮⡑⢎⡱⣙⢮⡱⢣⠌⡐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⢤⡙⢎⠳⡰⢠⢂⠄⡠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣳⣯⣟⡿⣳⢟⡾⡽⢫⠞⣵⢾⣹⢧⡷⢮⣟⣯⣿⡹⢚⡽⠎⣷⡹⣏⢞⡱⢎⣿⢳⡻⣜⠲⡀⠂⠀⠀⠁⠃⢌⠳⣉⠞⡱⢏⡻⣜⢧⡿⣜⣶⣥⢶⣶⣶⢿⠦⣶⡶⣾⣾⣷⣾⣿⢶⣯⢷⢭⣢⢵⣏⠦⠙⠢⠌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠶⠉⡀⢢⠵⣋⠞⡜⡐⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂ ⡙⣞⣿⣳⢯⣷⣽⣺⢷⣭⢣⣟⡼⢫⣟⡯⣝⢣⣟⡾⣵⢫⢇⠂⡉⢶⡱⢫⣖⡘⢮⡹⢳⡻⣜⠳⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠢⠓⡌⡐⣠⢏⡴⢩⣞⣽⣟⢿⢿⣿⡺⠿⣖⣒⠬⠉⡿⣈⠻⣔⡙⢦⠅⠂⠙⡏⡏⣷⣔⡼⠀⣄⠂⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⡼⣩⣛⣬⢫⡜⣡⢃⠖⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠ ⡵⢪⣟⣿⣿⡿⣞⣿⡿⣽⣛⡾⡵⢫⣜⠰⣨⢷⣯⣟⣾⣻⡬⢆⠀⠊⠵⢯⣖⣯⡳⣍⠣⡙⢮⡕⡠⢄⠠⠀⠀⢀⠣⢡⠀⠑⠣⢎⣸⢟⠻⣌⢺⡻⣦⡛⢿⣝⢄⠙⠟⠲⣿⣿⣦⡈⠫⣒⣄⢀⢄⡀⠀⣉⠹⢺⡿⣾⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣱⠧⢯⡜⣧⡟⡔⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⡈⠵ ⣝⢯⣾⡿⣟⣿⡿⣽⣛⠗⡃⢯⣝⡳⣎⢣⡑⣎⢷⣻⣼⣳⢻⡝⣦⢀⢠⠛⣎⢳⣙⢦⡃⢌⠲⣝⠧⠌⢠⢁⡐⠠⠈⢆⠀⠠⢁⡷⣡⢮⣷⣻⣷⣍⣾⣌⠪⣝⣷⣧⣆⣀⠈⠿⢿⣿⣦⣽⣿⣿⣿⣷⣔⡎⠾⠋⢩⣿⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢤⠱⣌⡻⣖⡹⠜⡹⢎⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡙ ⢯⡻⢇⠑⠚⠉⠀⣣⡝⣦⢱⢫⡾⣽⡹⢶⡽⣘⢎⠷⣳⣭⡳⡝⢦⣛⢮⠱⣀⠃⢯⠳⣝⢪⠕⣪⢝⡂⠄⠂⠰⡁⠉⠢⣁⢶⠏⠰⣻⣿⡷⣟⣿⣻⣽⣾⣷⣾⣿⣻⡿⣿⡻⠗⠚⠲⠿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠠⠶⢴⣻⡆⡀⢀⠀⡄⠠⢀⠀⠀⠈⠓⠌⢳⡉⢎⠁⢧⡻⡔⡌⡄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⡸⡁⠄ ⣧⡙⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠝⢮⡳⢧⣻⠱⣍⡳⣽⡰⢎⡀⢀⡳⣽⣹⣏⡳⢌⡳⣆⠞⣬⢛⣬⡳⢎⡵⢪⢑⠂⡈⠰⢁⠀⠀⢋⠎⢼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣻⣽⣯⣟⣟⣯⣗⣶⣦⣭⠿⠷⠿⠿⠿⢿⡟⢿⠁⣦⣦⣿⣏⣷⡡⢢⠜⡠⢃⠢⠌⠀⠀⠀⠈⢦⠙⢦⡘⢧⡝⢾⣱⠎⠐⡠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀ ⣷⣿⣮⣤⣄⣀⡤⣟⠤⡰⣙⢧⢣⠝⣦⢻⢾⣽⣳⡒⠄⢣⢱⡿⡌⠁⠯⢶⣍⣛⢦⡛⡴⡳⣌⠎⢅⠪⣔⠁⠀⠀⢀⠰⢣⣼⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣛⣛⣩⣍⣩⣤⣼⣷⣘⡧⠀⠙⣝⡲⠈⢿⣇⠊⡅⢄⠂⠡⠀⠀⠀⠐⠂⠉⠀⠉⢆⠛⣧⢿⡌⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄ ⣿⡿⣿⣟⣾⣳⣿⡝⢢⡱⣏⠶⣡⢚⡼⣫⢞⣼⣳⡝⡀⠀⢫⠞⢩⢆⣘⢧⡞⣽⣲⣝⢲⡙⢖⠮⡄⢳⡬⢳⠄⡠⣨⢞⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⡷⠹⢟⣿⣿⣿⠟⡿⠋⢁⣦⣥⣾⣓⡋⠘⣦⡝⡌⢂⠌⡴⠠⢄⡰⠠⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠆⠯⣜⠲⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⢁⠂⠀⡀⢤⡚⡔ ⡿⣽⢿⣻⣿⣯⣷⢿⣇⡳⢭⠚⡴⣋⠾⣵⣫⠞⣧⢛⡤⣃⢮⡐⢤⡚⡽⢎⣝⡲⡹⣞⢧⡜⣌⠲⣨⢱⢾⡝⣦⡵⡕⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣟⣋⢠⣴⣋⢄⠄⡴⣯⣶⣷⣿⡦⡄⢹⣧⡙⠤⠙⡴⣛⢦⡅⠀⠀⠠⢀⠀⠀⠀⢈⡲⣬⢳⡄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢌⠲⣁⠂⡐⠠ ⢧⣛⣾⣻⡽⣯⣛⠾⣝⠣⢈⠢⣡⢛⠶⣭⢛⡶⣭⡚⡥⠛⡌⢳⢌⠷⣣⢞⡽⣣⢧⢛⡼⣣⢍⠲⣏⠾⡜⣷⢟⡕⢡⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣼⡀⣧⣻⡿⢿⡻⣷⡇⢸⣯⢱⣂⠦⣱⢛⡮⡑⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠄⠐⡌⢧⠛⢮⠱⡁⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠈⠀⢋⠦⡑⢢ ⣿⡽⣶⢣⠟⡶⢭⡻⣽⣣⢆⡵⣂⢯⡻⣌⢇⡚⢡⠓⠌⠓⢬⠳⣬⢳⡱⢎⡜⣣⢏⣞⢲⡱⣮⠝⣜⡣⡜⣬⡿⠚⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢷⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢞⡇⠆⡍⢶⡁⠎⡀⠁⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⡱⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⡉⠆ ⣿⣟⣧⠛⡜⣰⢫⡕⣣⢟⡿⣶⣝⣮⢷⣫⣞⢦⣣⠎⠀⠈⠀⠉⠌⢳⣹⢶⣹⣽⢺⣌⠧⡱⣙⠾⣱⠏⡖⣼⢁⡦⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡇⢣⣿⡽⣜⢧⡜⡀⠐⢤⢃⡎⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢢⢱⠳⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡿⣏⢶⣉⠖⡡⢳⡜⡱⢎⡜⣳⠾⣽⣯⣷⢯⣟⣷⣊⠔⠰⣈⠶⣹⠶⣯⢏⡷⣫⢷⡞⣷⢳⡍⡚⠥⣊⠟⣽⢸⠁⢸⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⡿⠣⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⡿⢯⡿⣿⣿⣾⣿⡟⣙⢾⣷⢫⡞⠶⣡⢉⢦⢣⡜⡰⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠈⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡐⠀⠀⠀ ⡳⣍⢖⡩⣒⡀⢧⣘⡙⠮⣜⡵⢫⡟⣽⣿⣿⣻⢾⣝⣮⢱⣌⢣⢧⡻⡕⢫⠜⣧⢻⡜⢣⠏⠲⢉⣲⢋⣾⡿⡇⢀⡼⠫⡝⠑⣄⠀⠀⠀⣰⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⡿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢛⠶⣹⡝⣣⢟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢏⡾⠈⢳⡙⢢⢥⣛⢮⠳⣌⡱⢌⠢⠁⡀⢀⠀⠀⠀⢂⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡌⢆⠰⢀⠒⠄ ⡱⢎⡺⢰⢡⠛⡜⢦⡙⡖⢩⠚⡥⢛⡳⢏⡾⣱⢯⣞⣮⢷⣚⢯⢂⠑⡈⢡⡚⠜⠣⢻⡁⢊⠡⡾⢃⣿⣿⠇⡇⢿⣁⢠⠁⠀⠸⣷⣀⣰⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡻⢎⡭⢚⡱⢎⡵⢫⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⢼⡗⠀⠀⢌⡡⢎⠷⣪⠕⣮⠕⡊⠀⡐⢀⠂⠀⠂⠌⠄⢢⢱⢂⡐⢦⡓⡜⡌⠒⣤⡉⢆ ⡱⢎⠵⣋⢦⡉⠌⠀⠈⡵⢦⡓⡴⢩⢳⡩⢞⡝⢮⡻⣭⢳⢯⡞⢦⠘⣄⠣⡝⢦⠰⡀⠦⡽⣛⣱⣻⣿⣿⡆⠳⠀⢻⢨⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⡿⠟⢫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣣⠙⢦⡘⢣⠝⡮⣜⣳⢻⣿⢿⢾⣏⡿⢞⠠⣀⠂⠀⠉⠸⣥⢛⡬⢓⠠⠁⡐⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢊⡳⢎⡴⢣⡑⡞⣜⡳⢦⡹⢠ ⡱⢊⡜⡱⢺⡼⣆⡀⣀⢉⢣⡝⣮⢓⡧⣝⠎⡜⢠⠙⡜⢯⡞⣜⠠⠉⠂⢝⡜⣣⠑⣄⠣⡽⢣⣯⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠦⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢿⠿⠿⢿⠿⠿⠛⡁⢎⠠⡉⢦⣉⣧⣚⡵⣚⣼⣻⣯⡿⣿⢿⠏⡜⠰⢢⣏⡔⢢⠳⣌⠳⡜⡡⢆⡡⠠⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⡙⢮⣱⢳⡼⣹⢮⣝⢣⠐⡁ ⠰⣉⠦⣱⢏⡾⣱⡛⠖⡯⢖⡻⣜⣣⠞⣭⡚⣤⢓⠎⡜⣣⠝⣎⠷⣆⣀⠠⠘⢄⠳⠯⡽⢅⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣀⣀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠳⣴⣿⣿⣿⣷⠂⠄⠀⠀⢂⠰⣱⡾⣿⢿⣟⡛⢋⡙⢛⠿⣷⡏⣿⣽⣽⣿⠿⠈⠀⢉⣲⡽⢎⡳⣍⢆⡳⣌⡑⢦⡑⢢⠁⠂⠀⠀⠠⠱⣌⠓⣧⢚⣧⢻⣝⡿⣬⢃⢎⠰ ⢒⢬⡚⣵⣯⢿⡥⠁⢌⡰⢣⡹⣬⢳⣛⣶⡹⠆⢏⠚⡵⢣⢞⡴⡻⡜⣥⠳⣍⡆⠁⠈⠁⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠐⠠⠌⡩⠍⠡⠈⠀⠀⠀⢆⣿⣿⣿⣋⢙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⡞⣼⢻⣯⣿⢿⣿⡛⠠⣀⠳⣌⠳⡡⢖⡭⣞⡵⣎⡜⢦⡙⢆⠀⠀⠀⡀⢃⠣⢠⠉⢖⡫⢞⡽⢺⡽⣧⢏⣎⢒ ⡉⢦⡹⣞⡿⣟⠿⣡⢦⡹⣷⣻⡳⢯⡝⣮⢳⣉⢆⡹⣜⢯⢞⡲⣍⠳⣌⠓⡍⡞⡤⣄⢣⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢌⣻⡽⢷⡌⢏⠻⠿⣿⢿⡿⣻⢽⣟⣾⣿⣏⣼⣧⢣⠁⠀⠡⢈⢣⡙⣎⢶⡹⣞⡵⣺⢧⡛⠮⠑⠊⠀⠀⠀⡖⢦⡙⢤⡙⡞⠼⠣⢿⡜⣣⠞⡬ ⣱⢣⠛⠌⡱⣎⣳⡔⣮⢳⠭⣳⠹⣧⢻⡝⣧⠻⣬⠳⣏⣟⡾⡱⣎⡳⣌⢒⣈⢒⡱⣺⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡸⣯⢽⣚⢬⢣⡙⡜⢢⢋⠶⡱⡞⣼⣧⣿⣷⣿⡛⡄⢊⠤⡱⣎⢧⡜⣼⣳⣟⣧⢻⡕⣎⠐⠀⠁⠀⠠⡀⠜⡸⢧⠛⡆⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢡⠛⡜ ⢣⡏⣞⡵⣿⣻⢧⠻⣜⣣⢣⢳⡻⣜⢧⣻⡼⣛⢄⠒⣸⡜⡲⠍⠰⢙⠒⠯⡘⢆⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢂⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠢⢱⣛⡮⣙⠆⣃⠒⣌⠣⢎⡳⣝⢳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣹⠣⣝⠢⠱⠳⣽⣳⣞⢷⣛⡾⣭⡳⡜⣄⢂⠀⠀⠀⠐⠉⠀⠀⠀⠡⠀⠀⠠⠀⢆⠲⡌⠶⡩⢜ ⣿⡽⣞⡟⣧⢛⡬⠑⣜⢦⣋⠶⣙⠬⣣⢧⣹⣽⣬⢫⡔⢯⠵⣮⡭⢆⡙⢆⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡐⠄⠃⠀⠀⠀⠠⠄⠀⠀⢀⠣⢞⡳⡁⠎⡀⠣⠤⡙⣌⠳⣡⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⠷⣈⢯⠻⡵⢶⣳⡞⣯⣽⣻⢷⣝⡳⠌⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠌⠓⠈⢇⠱⠈ ⣧⡝⣦⠻⣴⢫⡔⢩⢞⣳⡝⣮⠱⢊⠔⢢⣽⣾⣿⠓⣍⣧⡳⣒⢮⡽⢮⣳⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡒⢠⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠰⢸⡳⢎⡵⢸⡄⠠⢑⠢⡱⣌⢳⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢏⡧⣼⣦⢡⣘⣯⣷⣿⡳⢎⡝⢫⡞⡥⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀ ⣷⣟⢦⢛⡼⢳⠈⠂⢏⡿⣙⢦⠩⠀⠀⠓⠾⣽⣿⣝⠲⣜⢻⣱⢖⡾⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢂⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠸⠿⣦⡦⢤⣤⣃⡔⣠⢣⣙⢮⣜⡧⠾⢁⠎⡲⡱⣎⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣆⣷⡻⣮⣿⣟⡿⣿⣷⣙⢆⡈⣱⢻⡐⠁⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣟⣮⢳⡞⡧⠀⠀⠀⠎⡑⢎⡓⠀⠀⢀⡹⣿⣿⡎⠳⣜⢫⡽⣫⢞⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⣌⠻⢷⠶⣯⣭⣽⣷⣿⡿⢋⠔⡁⢢⢎⡵⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⢽⣻⣎⡳⣯⣽⣿⣷⢫⣞⡶⣣⡿⡔⡀⠀⠴⡨⢏⠂⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈ ⣿⣿⣜⣷⣻⡵⠀⠀⢈⠒⣄⠲⡌⢆⡰⢌⡳⢽⣻⡀⠀⡜⢇⡳⣉⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠁⠄⢢⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⠙⠚⠧⠷⠼⢷⡛⢧⢃⢣⠐⣌⡶⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡽⣞⢯⣾⢽⣻⣥⠿⣿⣯⠁⠀⠀⠉⣷⠡⠀⠁⠂⠡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣯⢿⡻⠵⡁⠀⠀⠌⠰⣫⣜⠣⠜⡬⢣⠍⣿⣧⡆⣙⡌⣡⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡈⡐⠀⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠠⢈⡑⢢⢡⡙⢦⡙⢦⣫⣶⢿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣌⡻⢹⡻⢽⠀⠀⠈⢷⡄⠀⠀⠐⢦⡃⠀⠢⡑⢢⠱⡀⠀⠀⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣟⣷⣯⣷⣩⠒⡁⠀⠈⡄⢣⡵⢺⠅⠈⠖⡱⢪⡴⣿⣓⢶⡹⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡔⢁⠂⠄⠈⠂⠄⠠⠐⠠⠘⢠⠣⡝⢦⣽⡷⣟⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣬⡛⠧⠄⠀⠀⠸⡗⠀⠀⠀⠣⣇⠀⠐⠀⠂⠡⠐⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⡿⢏⣏⢾⣡⠐⢬⡑⢮⡵⣫⠔⡁⢎⣳⡾⢃⠫⢿⣜⢧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡵⣉⠰⢀⡁⢂⠐⢠⠢⢅⠢⢌⢦⠳⣞⢯⡳⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡿⢿⣷⣤⣤⢀⡐⠶⢷⡀⠀⠀⠠⣟⣤⣀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⡾⡽⠎⠞⠳⠀⠀⠢⡙⢮⠳⠓⢮⠱⣋⢏⠴⢂⢀⣿⣯⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢢⡑⢢⠐⡂⠌⡄⠒⡌⡑⢎⢆⡻⡜⣮⢷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣎⡙⣯⢙⢻⣻⡶⣄⣈⠻⠒⠢⢶⣎⡙⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣯⠃⡉⢄⡓⠌⢊⡜⣤⢖⡿⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢳⡌⢢⠑⡌⢒⠨⡑⢢⡙⢎⢬⠳⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣵⣋⣼⡫⡶⣦⣤⡀⢩⣓⠢⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢒⠠⡀⠤⢀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡙⢆⠳⣘⠮⣙⡞⣥⣺⢽⣓⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡗⢮⡑⠬⣐⠡⣂⠍⢢⡑⢎⢼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢽⣯⣻⣻⣬⡿⣠⣬⢿⣎⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠊⠐⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠈⠁⠉⠓⠁⡚⢑⡯⣖⣻⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣣⠜⡱⢂⠳⡌⡜⣡⠚⣌⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣰⣿⡿⢿⣾⡞⣥⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣵⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢷⡙⣜⡩⡓⡜⠴⡃⠭⣠⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣶⣯⡷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣄⠠⢀⠀⠀⠀⡀⣒⡲⡴⡾⢟⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⢏⡞⢤⢳⡹⢌⢣⣑⠳⣉⢶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣆⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡾⣱⠢⠜⠀⠁⠀⠀⠉⠑⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡝⡞⣜⠣⢧⣙⠎⣖⡡⢓⡌⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⠠⣑⢎⡰⣀⠆⡠⢀⠀⡄⠄ ⢡⢡⢃⡀⠠⡄⢤⠠⡄⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡽⡸⣌⢛⢦⡙⡞⡴⢩⠖⡬⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣷⢮⡻⣴⢋⡞⣥⢏⠶⡨⠑ ⢎⣳⢏⡌⡑⢈⠂⡱⠘⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢱⢪⡍⠶⡹⢬⡱⣃⠞⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⢿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡳⣝⠶⣫⢞⡱⣎⡳⢥⣋ tumblr_a3f9c07cd39385f1b046b1b521edfeab_0ff7e001_1280.jpg
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣠⣄⣀⣤⣤⣤⣄⣈⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡿⣻⣟⠿⠿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⡅⡎⠐⡳⠘⢗⢌⢹⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⡀⠰⢠⢻⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠄⠀⠀⢠⣨⡦⣬⠨ ⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⠀⠀⠀⠨⢺⢿⣿⣷ ⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡆⠐⡨⠓⠀⠈⣿⣿ ⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠘⠊⢒⡶⢤⠹⢿ ⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣗⠈⣆⠁⠀⢀⠀ ⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣷⡾⠶⢶⣶⣦⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⣄⣤⣤⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠳⠈⠀⠀⠀ ⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡌⢻⣮⣷⣷⣶⣾⣿⣿⡿⠛⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣏⡄⣲⠄⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠘⠛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣁⠐⠆⢠⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣧⣶⣤⡀⠠⣣⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠠⠞⠁⠈⠃⠐⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣷⠬⣻⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡺⠀⠀⠐⣿⣿⣿⣟⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠷⣿⢣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠷⠀⠀⣴⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠈⣻⣿⣿⣇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠸⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⡀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠘⠻⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠄ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠈⠻⢿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡐ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⢿⣿⣿⡟⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠿⡛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠋⠁⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣛⣻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣽ ⢯⣛⡇⡰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠛⡿⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠶⢃ ⢸⣟⢲⡿⣿⡷⢺⡄⢊⣾⠀⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣽⠰⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢷⢏⢶⡜ ⡄⣙⣿⡟⣻⣿⢿⣷⣟⣷⢀⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢼⣼⡏⢠⡾⢩⢳⠑⣿⣿⢎⠁⠈⠉ ⠀⢁⣿⡷⣜⣿⡟⢳⣿⠋⣸⠎⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠸⠟⣷⡙⣿⣤⣿⣾⢺⠖⡄⠀ ⠀⡀⠸⣿⣟⣿⡿⢻⣭⢿⣿⡃⢿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠀⠐⠀⠀⢹⣿⣼⣿⡟⣪⠠⠃⠀
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🌊/🌊/🔥 🌊/🎭/🌊 🔥/🌊/🌊
☔/☔/☔ ☔/🗻/☔ ☔/☔/☔
⣿⣟⡿⣻⢟⡿⣛⡿⣛⣟⡻⣟⡻⣟⢿⡻⣟⢿⣻⢟⣿⣻⢿⣟⡿⣿⠿⣿⢿⡿⣿⢿⣿⡿⢿⣻⣏⣯⣽⣬⣃⣬⣐⣢⣬⣻⣦⣌⡩⠥⠞⢪⣩⡛⢿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣟⡾⣝⣯⢟⡽⣯⢽⡻⣜⢿⣱⢟⡽⣺⠵⣏⠿⣼⢻⡼⣭⣳⢏⡾⣝⡿⣭⢿⣹⢟⣯⢷⣻⠿⣝⣧⣟⣛⡭⣁⣀⡈⠉⠩⠙⣯⡝⢻⠿⠓⣤⢷⣻⣦⡙⡺⠿⣷⡿⣯⣟⣯⣿⣟⣿⢿⡿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣯⡽⣞⢧⡿⣹⢮⡗⣯⢽⡺⣵⢫⣞⡳⢯⡝⣯⢳⣏⢾⣱⢏⡾⣝⡾⣵⣛⢞⣵⣻⠮⢯⣳⣯⣿⣵⣶⣶⢶⡿⠿⢿⡿⣷⣦⣶⡄⡭⢅⣀⣀⢈⡹⣿⣵⡕⣍⢻⢿⣽⣯⢿⣾⣻⣽⡿⣟⣿⣾⡿⣿⣾⢿⣽⣾⣿⣿⣽⣿⡿⣿ ⣷⡹⣞⢧⡻⣵⢫⢾⡹⣎⠷⣭⢳⢮⡝⣧⢻⣜⡳⣎⠿⣜⢯⡞⣵⣛⢶⣽⣿⣻⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣟⡯⠴⣒⠈⠭⣙⢒⣌⣥⡶⠦⣿⣗⣂⢼⣿⣶⣦⠽⣿⣆⢫⢾⣳⣿⢯⣷⣟⣿⣽⣿⣻⣾⢿⣿⣽⡿⣿⣻⣷⣿⣟⣯⣿⣿ ⣾⡱⢯⣞⡳⣭⣛⢮⡳⣭⢻⡜⡯⣞⢼⣣⢟⡲⣝⢮⡻⣜⢧⣛⢶⣽⣿⣟⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡓⣎⣵⢶⡚⡯⠿⢟⣫⣭⡶⠏⡹⣿⣯⣍⡘⢮⡹⢿⣾⣻⣞⠹⣷⢯⣿⣻⢾⣯⣟⣾⡿⣽⣿⢾⡿⣽⣿⢿⣽⣯⣿⡿⣟⣿ ⣶⢻⡝⣮⡝⣧⣛⢮⡳⣭⢳⡽⣱⢎⡷⢎⡳⣝⢮⡳⣝⢮⠳⣜⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣏⣷⣿⡿⣛⣳⠴⢮⣽⡿⠻⢏⠵⡛⢀⠍⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⣻⣧⢳⡙⢼⣻⢾⣽⣻⣷⣻⣽⣟⣿⡾⣿⣟⣿⣽⣿⣯⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿ ⣳⢏⡾⣱⣛⢶⡹⣎⡗⣧⡛⣶⡹⣎⠷⣋⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣟⣽⣾⣿⣾⢫⠎⠲⢜⣓⣏⠿⣿⣻⢿⣿⣿⣧⢳⡌⣳⣻⣞⣷⢯⣟⣷⣿⣳⣿⣻⣽⣯⣿⡾⣟⣷⡿⣷⣿⣻ ⢯⡞⣵⢣⡟⣎⠷⣭⠞⣶⡹⢖⡳⡭⢯⡝⣮⢳⡝⡮⠵⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣾⣿⡿⢻⡜⡵⠃⠀⠀⠐⠓⠜⣯⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢷⡘⣧⣟⡾⣿⣽⣳⣯⢿⣞⣿⣽⣾⢷⣿⢿⣻⣿⢿⣽⣿ ⡻⣜⢧⡻⡼⢭⣛⣖⢻⡲⣝⣫⢵⢫⡳⡝⡶⢫⡼⣹⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣫⢳⣾⡽⣵⣿⠏⣰⢏⠜⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡌⣗⢻⡾⣽⢷⣯⢿⣽⣻⣯⢿⣞⣯⣿⢯⣿⡿⣽⣿⣻⣾ ⣝⢮⡳⡽⣙⢧⡳⣎⢷⡹⢆⠧⣫⢗⡭⣝⡞⢧⢻⠴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⢾⣿⣿⣿⡟⣡⣺⡫⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣜⣳⣟⡿⣞⣿⣳⣯⢿⣯⡿⣽⣾⣟⣯⣿⡿⣽⣿⣻ ⢮⡳⡽⣱⢏⡾⣱⡝⣦⠓⡈⠀⢑⠪⡵⢫⡜⣏⢮⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⡯⣜⡵⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣧⢚⡾⣽⢯⡷⣿⡽⣯⣷⢿⣯⡷⣟⣿⣞⣿⢿⣽⣿ ⡳⡽⣱⢏⡾⣱⢧⣛⡼⡡⢄⠢⡜⣳⡝⢧⣛⡬⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠚⠉⠀⢀⣠⣤⣤⡶⠛⠉⠀⠉⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⡜⣽⢯⡿⣽⢷⣟⡿⣞⣯⣷⢿⣻⣷⣻⣽⣿⣻⣾ ⣝⡳⣭⢞⡵⣯⡞⣼⠒⠀⠀⠈⣷⡓⡞⢧⣛⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⡿⡿⢟⡛⠛⠉⠛⡍⠁⠀⠀⠀⠸⠛⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⡄⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣇⠾⣭⢿⣽⣻⢾⣽⣻⣽⢾⣻⣟⣾⢯⣷⣟⣷⢿ ⣧⢛⡖⢯⣻⢷⣫⠗⡏⠒⠀⠐⢳⡽⣙⡾⡵⡽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣜⣲⣿⣿⣿⣿⡽⣲⣌⠼⣡⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣾⣿⣯⣭⣕⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢿⢸⡝⣯⢾⣽⣻⣞⡷⣯⣿⣻⢾⣯⢿⣳⣿⢾⣿ ⣗⣫⡜⢧⣛⣿⡐⠈⢓⡤⣤⠴⡾⣱⢻⣱⢣⡓⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⡴⢛⣩⠛⠿⠛⠃⠴⠛⣿⢣⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠚⠷⠿⠿⠮⠒⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⡌⢿⣹⣟⣾⣳⢯⣟⡷⣯⣟⡿⣾⣻⣟⣾⢿⣾ ⣯⠶⣩⠗⣮⢟⣷⣂⢯⡜⣖⢫⡕⢧⣋⢖⣳⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡱⠠⠀⠈⠉⠓⠒⠂⢀⡼⡱⢊⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢽⡇⢧⠳⣏⡾⣽⣻⢾⣽⣳⢯⣟⡷⣟⣾⢯⣿⢾ ⢧⡛⣬⢛⡴⣻⠿⡜⢳⠼⣌⡳⢎⠷⣘⢺⣣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢡⠁⠂⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠊⠜⣁⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣧⠊⡽⡸⣝⣳⢯⣟⡾⣽⢯⡿⣽⣻⣽⣻⣞⢯ ⠣⠜⡠⢋⠼⡱⢃⠐⠂⡈⢀⠻⡼⣙⢦⠏⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢂⠍⡐⠀⢀⠀⠀⢄⣪⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⣣⠝⣎⢷⣛⡾⣽⢯⡿⣽⣳⣟⣾⣳⢯⡿ ⠀⠐⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠉⠐⠠⢁⠚⡰⡉⢤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢎⡰⠠⡁⠠⠈⣐⢆⠹⢤⣦⣴⡀⠀⠠⠤⠄⠀⠹⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠡⡛⢬⡳⣏⡾⣝⣻⣞⢷⣻⣞⡷⣯⢿⣽ ⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⣅⢡⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣋⡶⡑⠤⠁⢈⡡⢎⡘⠀⠈⠒⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠈⢻⠢⣙⠮⣗⢯⠷⣞⣯⢷⣛⡾⣽⣻⣞ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢷⠡⠀⢰⡟⣴⣧⣵⣶⡴⣦⣤⣠⣐⣤⣤⣄⣀⣀⡀⠹⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⡀⠂⠩⠪⣿⢎⡿⣱⢯⣞⣭⢟⡷⣏⠞ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣼⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣣⠀⠀⢳⠘⡿⣿⣧⢇⣅⣀⣁⣀⣁⣠⣰⣼⠟⠁⠸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣷⢋⢄⠀⠐⡈⢯⢞⡽⣺⡜⣮⣻⡝⡎⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⢫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢆⠀⠘⣦⡙⠾⣭⣛⢒⠂⢆⠂⠶⣖⡋⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⢂⠑⢄⠈⡜⡎⢷⡡⢟⡴⣏⢾⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣣⢿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⣌⠘⡌⠥⠀⠉⠉⠉⠈⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠧⣀⠀⠸⣙⠦⣙⢎⠶⣹⢎⠄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⢎⣾⠃⢼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⢦⡀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣻⣷⣥⡈⠂⢹⡰⢡⢎⠳⣱⢺⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠃⣏⢜⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡹⢞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡜⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢻⢿⣿⣦⠘⠠⢃⠎⣡⢣⠳⣎⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠸⡄⢻⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢿⣽⣲⠤⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡐⢌⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⢿⣿⣿⣿⣽⠸⢪⢻⣿⡇⢈⢣⠒⡁⢆⠻⡔⣃ ⣀⠀⠀⠒⠠⠤⠤⠄⠀⠹⡆⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢢⠘⠫⠿⠗⠘⠂⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⢬⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⢆⡙⣼⣯⡇⢀⠲⡁⠖⡈⢆⠹⡔ ⡹⢮⡔⡠⢄⡠⣄⢄⡀⣠⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢌⠶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠠⢡⠘⡄⠣⢌⠒⡌ ⡑⢢⠘⡡⢋⠷⣯⣾⠟⢻⣷⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⢣⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢡⢊⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣄⢸⣿⣷⢹⣆⠂⠡⢌⠱⣈⠒⡌ ⠈⡀⢣⠰⡁⠚⠋⠀⠀⢈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠰⠑⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢂⡜⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣹⣼⣆⣿⣣⢿⣿⣀⠁⠌⡒⢄⠣⡐ ⡺⡅⠃⢆⣁⠠⠀⣀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠐⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⢂⠜⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢄⢸⣿⣧⣯⣿⣟⣾⣿⠟⠹⠚⠭⣓⠦⡑⠠ ⣿⡽⠓⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⡦⣿⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢉⠂⡎⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣿⣷⡌⢿⣿⣷⣟⣻⠟⠁⡠⠂⠀⠀⠀⠑⢌⡡ ⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⢀⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠐⠀⠠⠃⡜⡰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⣸⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠌⠀⠡⡘⢄⡳⣭⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣋⣼⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠐⡈⠆⡱⢌⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣘⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠘⡀⢎⢎⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣹⣁⡴⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢀⠀⡈⡶⠀⣴⠟⠃⣠⠿⠩⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⡌⣚⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢿⣿⣿⣯⣿⡱⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢄⠀⠀⠀⠔⠁⠀⣿⡄⣏⠀⠢⣄⣀⣺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣐⠯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣅⠈⣻⣿⣿⡿⡯⡓⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢄⠊⢀⡀⠀⠀⠘⢷⣭⣛⢚⡿⣟⣫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢨⠓⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣋⢻⣿⡟⣿⠻⣷⡜⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠉⠒⠚⡄⠀⣀⣀⢉⡿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣯⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣎⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢿⠟⡱⢠⣿⣿⡿⠇⠀⢹⡇⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
꒷۰ ╌──═𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪═──╌ ۰꒷
11:11 make a wish ゜・。。・゜☆゜・。。・゜♡
..._...|..____________________, , ....../ `---___________----_____|] = = = = = D ...../_==o;;;;;;;;_______.:/ .....), ---.(_(__) / ....// (..) ), ----" ...//___// ..//___// .//___// ιf уσυ ωσυℓ∂ נυмρ ιи fяσит σf α вυℓℓєт fσя уσυя gιяℓfяιєи∂, вσуfяιєи∂, єχ-gιяℓfяιєи∂, єχ-вσуfяιєи∂, вєѕт fяιєи∂, fαмιℓу мємвєя, σя נυѕт α ρєяѕσи уσυ ℓσνє, яє ρσѕт тнιѕ σитσ уσυя ραgє!
vicenarian (20–29) tricenarian (30–39) quadragenarian (40–49) semicentenarian (50) quinquagenarian (50–59) sexagenarian (60–69) septuagenarian (70–79) octogenarian (80–89) nonagenarian (90–99) ultracentenarian (100+) centenary semisupercentenarian (105–109) supercentenarian (110+) supracentenarian centevicenarian ages 120-129 ↓ below are unreached ages of human people ↓ sesquicentenarian (150–159) bicentenarian (200–299) multicentenarian (200+) tricentenarian (300–399) quadricentenarian (400–499) quincentenarian (500–599)
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My family Story by Pansyk I died eight years ago. It wasn’t particularly tragic. Or unusual. Just a car accident. I don’t blame the man who hit me. He was speeding because his wife was in labor, and there was black ice on the road. He lost control of the car and I lost my life. It's not his fault. I know that. I’m not cruel. I am not vengeful. If anything, I’m the opposite.. ↓Keep reading ↓ 31ST OCT 2020 u/Pansyk I don’t blame the man who hit me. He was speeding because his wi҉fé was in labour, and lost control of the car and I lost my lįfe. It's not his fault. I am not vengeful. I’m the opposite. You see, I don’t have any family left and I had lost my few friends around that time. When it was time for my funeral, the only people who came was my boss and the family of the man who kılled me. The wi҉fé held her newborn daughter Lily close to her. I hated my boss, and the cemetery was awfully lonely, so I followed the family home. Lily may as well have been my own flesh and bľood. She was sweet, and bright, and oh so very small. She had trouble sleeping if someone wasn’t rocking her crib and her parents were so tired. After they put her to bed, it was easy for me to rock her crib for her. I didn’t get tired. I could help her. As the years passed, Jack and Lori realised that they weren’t alone in the house. It didn’t take long from there to make a connection between my funeral and when I had showed up. And I’d never been malevolent, so they weren’t afraid or angry. They started to burn candles on the anniversary of my dEath day. They left an empty chair for meals and holidays. I really felt like… A member of the family. Someone is trying to force the door. Its Lori’s ex. He’s obsessive. He’s angry. He’s going to hur͘t the family. My family. The thing about ghosts, is that the more offerings you get, the stronger you become. Id been enjoying candles, trinkets, and even the occasional food item for the past five years. I was strong from that. The kn1fe feels warm in my hand. A shock of heat against the ice of my skin. Lori, Jack, and Lily are my family. I care about them. And they’re not gonna join me yet.
https://www.wordexample.com/list/words-suffix-cide Foeticide, of a fetus Neonaticide, of a child during the first 24 hours of life Infanticide, an infant from month old to 12 months Avunculicide, one's uncle Fratricide, one's brother Mariticide, one's husband or significant other Matricide, one's mother Nepoticide, one's nephew Parricide, of one's close relative Patricide, of one's father Sororicide, of one's sister Uxoricide, of one's wife or girlfriend Nepticide, of one's niece Amiticide, of one's aunt Geronticide – the abandonment of the elderly to Senicide
░░░HAPPY░FATHER'S░DAY░░░ ▄▄▄░░▄▄░▄▄░░▄▄░░░▄░░▄▄░░ ░█░░███████░█░█░█░█░█░█░ ░█░░▀█████▀░█░█░█▄█░█░█░ ▄█▄░░░▀█▀░░░█▄▀░█░█░█▄▀░ I 🤍 DAD
July 27th, 2010, 3:46 AM Today, my boyfriend came over and met my parents. Then he left, and my Dad told me that my boyfriend loved me. I smiled and asked, “How do you know?” He said, “Because he looks at you the same way I look at your Mother.” Love GMH
Repost this If you miss someone right now. July 27, 2015
December 13, 1977, Evansville Aces players, coaches, supporters and flight crew boarded a chartered DC-3 plane to travel to Murfreesboro for a game against Middle Tennessee. Just one minute after taking off, at 7:22 p.m. crashed, tragically taking the lives of everyone onboard. The only member of the Purple Aces who did not die in the crash was 18-year-old freshman David Furr; he was out for the season with some infirmary and thus was not on the plane that day. Lucky break? Well… Davis Lee Furr, weeks after the plane crash, and his younger brother Byron were killed in a car accident near Newton, Illinois, leaving the entire 1977 Evansville team dead.
Go to TwoSentenceHorror r/TwoSentenceHorror 11 hr. ago daneylion I was told that I was getting too old to be a pilot and that this would be my last flight before retirement. I’m going to make sure for everyone on board that it’s their last flight too.
----///-\\\----ιf уσυ нανє єνєя fєℓт ---|||---|||---αℓσиє ---|||---|||---нαтє∂ ---|||---|||---ѕυι¢ι∂αℓ ----\\\-///----αρραтнєтι¢ -----\\///-----∂єρяєѕѕє∂ ------///\-----σя -----///\\\----נυѕт ----///--\\\---fєєℓ ιи ραιи ---///----\\\--ρυт тнιѕ σи уσυя ¢нαииєℓ
I found myself opening a door in the basement and then I saw the endless cavern of hour-glasses as far as the eye could see. The closest to the door had the names of my family members etched on them. I saw the sand in my parent’s hour-glasses about to run out. I called them and told them to not get on the plane. The sand in the hour-glasses refilled. —Human_Gravy
𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝔀𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓲𝔃𝓮: 𝓫𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪 𝓶𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 & 𝓫𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓫𝓸𝓭𝔂'𝓼 𝔀𝓲𝓯𝓮. ଓ
r/TwoSentenceHorror 2 hr. ago villianrules After taking the ancestry test I discovered that I was related to a serial killer. It makes me so proud of continuing the legacy.
Jan 1, 2011 9:47 PM Mom <Your great aunt just passed away. LOL Why is that funny?> <It's not funny! Wht do you mean? Mom lol means laughing out loud!> <Oh goodness!! I sent that to everyone I thought it meant lots of love.
i turned to the guy who k1lled my wife ✨ He cried so desperately, scared for what was to come. If only he had talked to me and tried to reason, maybe I could have spared him. But that was impossible. After all, he was born just a few moments ago...
Do need the pap smear test if a virg!n and/or not s*xual active? You may not necessarily require, unless... You want to plan on having offspring To check for as*ault (such as ab*se) A family relation has had female reproductive cancer if contemplating feticidal abort1on If getting some reproductive apparatus if any of the above applies to you, the circumstances might be different regarding whether or not you as a virg!n should get one if you're not active The pap smear test only checks for cancers caused by the hpv transmitted virus which is transmitted vía such contact If you're not virg!n you may have hpv (said cancer causing virus, which the pap checks you for) dormant in your system
r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago RVKony Join The Blind Child "Stãbbing." Sylvia pointed a trembling finger at my brother Arthur. Her milky, unseeing eyes gleamed in his direction, and his wife, Agnes, trembled with indignation from across the table. My husband's face colored as he dropped his fork and dragged our daughter back into her bedroom, scolding her as they went. The rest of the night was awkward, and the pep in our conversation never recovered. Two weeks later, Agnes was st*bbed to dEath in her office parking lot. An college student found her, and called the cops. My brother swore that he bore no ill will against my daughter, but I could tell that he was lying. One day, the middle-aged woman who taught my daughter how to read her braille called me. "Ma'am, I don't know what's going on but your daughter's been whispering, 'electrocution, electrocution,' for the past half-hour and it's starting to distract her from her lessons. Could you please talk to her?" I did. Sylvia, in her nine-year-old lack of understanding, told me it was "just a cool new word" she learnt at school. The dEath of an electrician made headlines the following week. It was a freak accident involving tangled wires and a bucket of water. Sylvia's teacher's face was blurred for privacy, but her voice was as familiar as anything to me: "He was…my partner…my soulmate." While my husband was working late, I called Sylvia into the living room. "Honey, is there anything Mommy should know?" She hesitated. "Honey, you know you can talk to me." She denied it once more, "I have no secrets from you, Mommy." My husband walked into the living room with his hair tousled and his eyes distant. Instead of rushing to hug her dad, Sylvia simply turned towards him. "Fire," she said. My heart stopped. Everytime Sylvia said something like that, it was the person's partner who d1ed, and of that reason too. A fire? Was Sylvia merely making predictions, or was she cûrsêd on me for snooping in on her business? Why, this dēvıl child— I grew paranoid, checked the appliances and electronics constantly, and cleared the house of any fire hazards. That was my lįfe over the next few days. All the while, I kept my eyes on Sylvia. Sylvia. I had grown almost hateful towards my own daughter. My husband came home one night, wounded and blackened with soot, while I sat in the living room and Sylvia listened to the radio beside me. "What's the matter?" I asked. He gulped. "One of my colleagues, her house…her house caught fire. She was trapped in, but I managed to escape." That turned the gears in my head. "What were you doing in her house?" The expression on my husband's face was a sufficient admission of guilt. I opened my mouth to speak—no, to scream—but a smaller voice from beside me looked at me and whispered: "Poisoning."
http://www.celticcousins.net/scott/stmaryscem.htm
July 1974, Neville Ebbin was knocked off his small motorcycle and killed by a taxi in Hamilton, Bermuda.⠀ 🚩⠀ One year later in July 1975, his brother, Erskine Lawrence Ebbin was knocked off the same motorcycle by the same taxi with the same driver, carrying the same passenger, on the same street that had killed his brother, Neville.⠀ ⠀ Both brothers were 17 when they died.
“I came home from a hard day of work only to find my girlfriend holding our child. I didn’t know which was more horrifying, seeing my dead girlfriend and child, or knowing someone put them there.” -Edwin Reifer
🔵 The first man to drown during the building of the Hoover was J.G. Tierney, on December 20, 1922. The final man to during the project was Patrick W. Tierney, his son, in 1935 - - also on December 20. 🔵
𝓘'𝓶 𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓪 𝓜𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻, 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓱 𝓘 𝔀𝓪𝓼𝓷'𝓽 𝓪 𝓖𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 ~ 𝓾𝓷𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷
Dean Martin's son, Dean Paul Martin, was tragically killed in 1987 when the plane he was in crashed into San Gorgonio Mountain in California. What was especially chilling was that ten years before, fellow Rat Pack member Frank Sinatra had lost his mother in a plane crash on that very same mountain!
Key Facts about the 1977 Evansville Plane Crash: Date: The crash occurred on December 13, 1977. Location: The plane crashed during takeoff from Dress Regional Airport in Evansville, Indiana. Victims: All 29 people on board were k!lled, including the University of Evansville men's basketball team, their coach, and other team personnel. Cause: The crash was attributed to a combination of factors including rain, fog, and the plane's a͟ge. Warren Alston (31 Mar 1959-1977) Freshman basketball player Marvin Robert Bates (1 Sep 1922-1977) Local Radio Sports Announcer. Jeffery Paul Bohnert (7 Nov 1956-1977) Student Manager of University of Evansville basketball team. Ray A. Comandella (27 Dec 1958-1977) Freshman basketball player at University of Evansville. Michael Stephen Duff (3 Sep 1959-1977) After moving from Shawnteetown, IL at the start of the sophomore year, Mike led Eldorado, IL on a 3 year tournament odyssey that saw the Eldorado Eagles finish 4th in 1975 and third in 1977. Mike held the position of Class A, most points scored in IHSA tourney history of 252 points. Mike also held the record of 112 field goals which remained a tournament record for all classes. Mike had just started his college career at the University of Evansville. Charles Ellis Goad (7 Jul 1916-1977) Fan of University of Evansville basketball. He wanted to attend an away game with the team and was onboard this flight. Willard Bruce Hartford (6 Jan 1941-1977) General Manager of National Jet Service, Inc. Kraig S. Heckendorn (6 Aug 1958-1977) Basketball player at University of Evansville Robert W Hudson (18 Jan 1916-1977) Assistant Athletic Director and Ticket Manager for University of Evansville. Michael Douglas Joyner (10 Jun 1958-1977) Freshman basketball player at University of Evansville. Maurice Wayne King (13 May 1944-1977) A fan of University of Evansville Basketball. He was onboard the flight. Kevin Porter Kingston (8 May 1956-1977) Senior basketball player at University of Evansville Mark Alan “Tank” Kirkpatrick (25 Jan 1956-1977) Student Manager of University of Evansville basketball team. Mark Douglas Kniese (11 May 1957-1977) Athletic Trainer at University of Evansville. Gregory Jon Knipping (8 Jun 1950-1977) First Sports Information Director at the University of Evansville. Barney Julius Lewis (12 Mar 1959-1977) Freshman basketball player at University of Evansville. Stephen Allen Miller (26 Feb 1957-1977) Junior basketball player at University of Evansville. Keith Brian Moon (17 Sep 1957-1977) Sophomore basketball player at University of Evansville. Ty Van Pham (29 Nov 1935-1977) Pilot of the DC-3. Bødy recovered the day after the crash. Gaston Pacheco Ruiz (15 Jun 1942-1977) 1st Officer of the DC-3. The force of the imp8ct sliced off the heels of co-pilot Ruiz’s shoes, which were on the control pedals of the aircraft. Bødy recovered the day after the crash. Charles Merlin Shike (9 Feb 1941-1977) University of Evansville Comptroller. On Board the flight. Mark Edward Siegel (2 Nov 1958-1977) Freshman basketball player at University of Evansville. Greg Smith (2 Jan 1959 – 14 Dec 1977) Freshman basketball player at University of Evansville. Greg was alįve when taken to Deaconess Hospıtal where he d*ed shortly after midnight, five hours after the accıdent. Pamela Ann “Pam” Smith (21 Nov 1953-1977) Flight Attendant on the plane. James Martin Stewart (18 Aug 1948-1977) D*ed in plane crash. Bødy recovered the day after the crash. Bryan F Taylor (8 Jan 1957-1977) U of E Basketball player kılled in U of E plane crash John Ed Washington (29 Dec 1955-1977) Basketball Player Robert Lee Watson (8 Aug 1942-1977) Head Coach University of Evansville Basketball. Possibly also served with the 101st Airborne Division during the Vietnam Wa- receiving the Bronze Star Medal, Army Commendation Medal and five Purple Hearts. Marion Anthony “Tony” Winburn (18 Mar 1954-1977) Senior basketball player at University of Evansville. Ann Knox whose 18-year-old son, David Furr, had injur3d his ankle trying out as a walk-on for the Aces. He was stıll hoping to make the team but wasn’t on board. Two weeks later, almost to the hour, he and his 16-year-old brother d*ed in a car wreck coming home from a Southern Illinois holiday basketball tournament.
CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS v (Autistic Author) Karen watches the exchange, her heart heavy with the weight of their conversation. "Plankton," she says gently. "What can Chip do to help you?" "Just be patient," he says. "And maybe don't touch me to much." Chip's eyes widen at the admission, and he nods solemnly. "Okay," he says. "But what if you don't look okay?" Plankton's antennae twitch in what Karen recognizes as a sign of discomfort, but he answers. "Inform Karen, I mean uh ‘Mommy’, but just wait for me to come back I guess," he says. "Don't call panicked attention to it." Chip nods, his eyes searching Plankton's face. "But what if you fall down or something?" Plankton's antennae wave slightly. "Well, if that happens," he says, his voice gruff but gentle, "you can offer to help me up, yet also same thing. But then just remember to give me some space, okay?" Chip nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton's face. "I will, Dad," he says, voice earnest. Karen feels a knot in her throat, watching the two of them. Plankton's vulnerability is a rare sight, but she knows it's a step in the right direction. She decides to push the conversation a bit further. "Chip," she says softly. "Do you have any more questions?" Chip looks at Plankton, his eyes searching. "Why’d you get so mad when asking you questions?" Plankton's antennae twitch again, a hint of frustration in his eye. "It's just... it's hard to explain," he says, his voice tight. "I know you're trying to help, but sometimes it feels like you're poking at a sore spot." Chip's expression falls, his lower lip trembling. "But I didn't mean to hurt you, Dad," he says, his voice a whisper. Plankton sighs, his antennae dropping to his side. "I know you didn't," he says, his voice softer. "It's just that sometimes, when people ask questions about it, it feels like they're not accepting me the way I am." Karen's heart breaks a little at her husband's words, but she knows this is a breakthrough. "Chip," she says, her voice gentle. "What Daddy's trying to say is that sometimes, it's hard for him to talk about." Chip nods, his eyes still on Plankton. "But you're still my dad," he says, his voice firm. "I'll always love you, no matter what." Plankton's antennae twitch as he nods and for a moment, Karen sees a flicker of emotion in his eye. The room is silent, the air thick with unspoken words. Karen's heart is racing, knowing this is a pivotal moment. Plankton has always struggled with expressing his emotions, especially with their son. The words "I love you" are as foreign to him as the surface world. "I know you do, buddy," Plankton says, his voice gruff. He clears his throat, looking down at the rock on the coffee table. "But for me, it's not always easy to say those words." He looks up at Chip, his eye filled with something Karen can't quite place—pain, perhaps, or regret. "But just because I don't say it, doesn't mean I don't feel it, okay?" Chip nods, his eyes never leaving his dad's face. "But why can't you say it?" he asks, his voice small. Plankton's antennae droop, and he looks away, his eye avoiding contact with both Karen and Chip. "I just want to make sure you know that I love you," Chip says, his voice a mix of hope and desperation. "Isn't that what families do?" The room seems to shrink around them, the air charged with anticipation. Plankton's antennae shoot straight up, and his eye narrows into a glare. Karen can almost see the cogs turning in his mind, the struggle to find the right words. "Why do you keep asking?" Plankton snaps, his voice sharp as a knife. Chip flinches, but Karen squeezes his hand, giving him the courage to keep asking. "I just want to understand," Chip whispers. Plankton's eye flashes with irritation. "Why does it matter so much?" he snaps, his antennae quivering. "Why do you have to know everything?" Chip shrinks back, his voice trembling. "Because I don't want you to be sad," he says, his eyes brimming with tears. Plankton processes Chip's words. His antennae quiver, his eye flitting between his son and Karen, who's watching with a silent plea for patience. "Why do you keep asking?" Plankton repeats, his voice rising slightly. "What's so important about me saying it?" Karen's eyes are filled with a silent apology as she sees the confusion and hurt on Chip's face. She knows Plankton's words are a defense mechanism, a way to keep his own fears at bay. But she also knows how much their son needs to hear those words. "Plankton," she says gently, her voice a soft reminder of the love in the room. "Chip just wants to understand." Plankton sighs, his antennae dropping in defeat. "I know," he murmurs. "I just... I don't know how to explain it so he gets it." Karen nods, her heart aching for both her son and her husband. "Chip," she says, her voice soft. "Daddy's trying, okay?" But Chip's eyes are on Plankton, searching for answers that Plankton seems unwilling to give. Plankton's antennae are a blur of movement, his frustration palpable in the air. "I don't know how to explain it so you'll get it!" he snaps, his voice echoing off the walls. Chip's eyes widen, and he withdraws further into himself, clutching the rock tightly. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice shaking. Karen's grip on Plankton's hand tightens, a silent plea for calm. "Plankton," she says gently, "you don't have to explain everything right now. We just want to help." But Plankton's antennae are a blur of agitation, his eye darting around the room as if searching for an escape. "I don't know what you want from me," he says, his voice tight. "I'm trying to be honest, but it feels like no matter what I say, it's not enough." Karen can see the frustration in her husband's movements, his antennae waving erratically. "You don't have to have all the answers right now," she soothes, her voice a gentle reminder of the love in the room. Plankton's eye narrows, his antennae stiff with tension. "But Chip expects me to," he murmurs, his voice filled with a hint of accusation. "You want me to just lay it all out, like it's simple." Karen can feel the frustration rolling off of him, and she knows that pushing him further won't help. "I know it's hard," she says, her voice soothing. "But we can take it slow, okay?" Plankton's antennae quiver, and he nods, his eye still narrowed in irritation. "Fine," he grumbles. "But don't expect me to be good at it." The tension in the room is thick, but Karen refuses to let it linger. She takes a deep breath, her eyes on Chip. "Why don't we start by talking about what happened today?" she suggests, her voice calm and even. Plankton's antennae twitch, and he nods, his eye flicking to Chip before looking away again. "Ok," he says, his voice tight. "Do you remember what happened at the park today?" Karen asks, keeping her voice gentle and steady. Plankton's antennae twitch, and he nods stiffly. "Yes," he says, his voice tight. "I had one of my... moments." Chip looks at him, his eyes wide with concern. "Is it okay with Dad…" "I'm right here, buddy," Plankton interrupts, his antennae still, his eye fixed on the floor. "And I'm okay." But Chip isn't convinced. "But you weren't okay at the park," he says, his voice quivering. "You were scared I think.." Plankton's antennae shoot up in frustration. "I was not scared!" he snaps, his voice echoing through the room. "It's just... it's hard to explain!" Karen's heart squeezes, watching her husband's distress, but she knows they need to keep the conversation going. "Chip," she says gently, "why don't you tell us what you felt when you saw Daddy's moment?" Chip looks at Karen, his eyes glistening. "I was scared," he admits, his voice shaky. "I didn't know what to do, and everyone was looking." Plankton's antennae droop, his eye flicking to the floor. He's visibly upset, and Karen can see the anger bubbling beneath the surface. "I just want to know," Chip says, his voice trembling, "I wanna know why you…" But before he can finish, Plankton's antennae shoot up in anger, his eye flashing with a fury. "Why do you keep poking at me like that?" he yells, his voice echoing through the room. "Can't you just leave me alone?" Chip's eyes fill with tears, and he jumps back, his small body trembling. Karen's heart sinks as she sees the fear in her son's eyes, and she knows that Plankton's outburst isn't helping. "Plankton," she says firmly, her voice cutting through the tension.
"Wheres your husband?" He doesn't exist, I married a woman. It's 2015 people she's not my friend.
r/TwoSentenceHorror 34 min. ago MistStarz “Sweetie, dolls don’t move on ıt's own,” mother comforted her terrıfıed daughter. “So just sit sti̕ll while I stitch your prettɥ lıttle møuth up.”
July 1996 . Twins can be conjoined at the: Abdomen (omphalopagus). Chest (thoracopagus). Top of head down to the belly button, facing each other (cephalopagus). Head only (craniopagus). Pelvis, facing each other (ischiopagus). Pelvis, side-to-side (parapagus). Rump-to-rump (pygopagus). Vertebral column (rachipagus). Generally, parapagus are conjoined at the upper chest. Parapagus, united laterally, always share a conjoined pelvis with one or two sacrums and one symphysis pubis. Dithoracic parapagus is when the two chests are separated, and the fusion is confined to the pelvis and abdomen. Dicephalic parapagus is if there is the union of the entire trunk but not the heads. The heart, liver, and diaphragm are fused, but there is a duplication of the respiratory tract and upper digestive tract; the viscera organs are fused. There are two arms, two legs, and two complete vertebral column and spinal cord. The number of limbs varies from 4 to 7, rarely with four legs. Generally, each lung is present in a separate lung cavity. The fusion of lungs is very rare. The alignment of the conjoined pelvis is diagnostic-one complete pelvic ring, with a single anterior pubic symphysis, and with two laterally fused sacral bones, and predominantly only one rectum. Ischiopagi are united ventrally extending from the umbilicus down to a sizeable conjoined pelvis with two symphyses pubis and two sacrum. Craniopagus can be united at any portion of the skull except at the face and the foramen magnum. Pygopagus varieties are joined dorsally; sharing the sacrococcygeal and perineal regions, sometimes even involving the spinal cord. Rachipagus twins are united dorsally above the sacrum. The union may also include the occiput. The cephalopagus varients are fused from the umbilicus to the top of the head. The pelvis and lower abdomen are usually not fused. Thoracopagus are united face-to-face from the upper thorax down till the umbilicus. Omphalopagus are primarily United at the umbilical region aligned face to face. The pelvis is not united. The pure parapagus is two heads, two hands, two legs, two hearts and two pairs of lungs. Conjoined twins are classified on the basis of the union's site, with the suffix pagus meaning fixed or fastened. The twins can have four (tetrapus), three (tripus), or two (bipus) legs. Cephalopagus: The twins often have a fused thorax in addition to a fused head. The single fused head may have two faces (janiceps) Cephalothoracopagus twinning is characterized by the anterior union of the upper half of the body, with two faces angulated variably on a conjoined head. The anomaly is occasionally known as janiceps, named after the two-faced Roman god Janus. The prognosis is extremely poor because surgical separation is not an option, in that only a single brain and a single heart are present and the gastrointestinal (GI) tracts are fused. Craniopagus: The conjoined twins share the skull, meninges, and venous sinuses Ischiopagus: The twins may lie face to face or end to end Pygopagus: The twins are joined dorsally, sharing the sacrococcygeal and perineal regions Rachipagus: The twins generally have vertebral anomalies and neural tube defects. Thoracopagus: The twins lie face to face and share the sternum, diaphragm, upper abdomen wall, and liver and have an exomphalos
22 years ago, a 16 year old girl was pregnant with a baby. Understanding the circumstances, her parents told her to abort or be disowned. Her best friend - her 18 year old neighbour - although he was not the father, stepped into the father figures shoes. They got married 2 years later. Mom and Dad, your love for me, and for each other, GMH. Dec 1st, 2014
girl misunderstood 51 followers 82 following ~♥~ уσυ нανє тσ тαкє тнє gσσ∂ ωιтн тнє вα∂, ѕмιℓє ωнєη уσυ'яє ѕα∂, ℓσνє ωнαт уσυ gσт αη∂ яємємвєя ωнαт уσυ нα∂. αℓωαуѕ ƒσяgινє вυт ηєνєя ƒσяgєт, ℓєαяη ƒяσм уσυя мιѕтαкєѕ вυт ηєνєя яєgяєт, ρєσρℓє ¢нαηgє, тнιηgѕ gσ ωяσηg, ѕσ נυѕт яємємвєя тнαт ℓιƒє gσєѕ ση...~♥~ ~♥~ ι ωαηт тσ вє яємємвєяє∂ αѕ тнє σηє ωнσ αℓωαуѕ ѕмιℓєѕ єνєη ωнєη нєя нєαят ιѕ вяσкєη, αη∂ тнє σηє ωнσ ωσυℓ∂ αℓωαуѕ вяιgнтєη υρ уσυя ∂αу, єνєη ωнєη ѕнє ¢συℓ∂η’т вяιgнтєη υρ нєя σωη ~♥~ ~♥~ ωє єηנσу ωαямтн вє¢αυѕє ωє нανє вєєη ¢σℓ∂. ωє αρρяє¢ιαтє ℓιgнт вє¢αυѕє ωє нανє вєєη ιη ∂αякηєѕѕ. ву тнє ѕαмє тαкєη, ωє ¢αη єχρєяιєη¢є נσу...вє¢αυѕє ωє нανє кησωη ѕα∂ηєѕѕ ~♥~ ~♥~ ∂ση'т єνєя gινє υρ ιƒ уσυ ѕтιℓℓ ωαηт тσ тяу, ∂ση'т єνєя ωιρє уσυя тєαяѕ ιƒ уσυ ѕтιℓℓ ωαηт тσ ¢яу. ∂ση'т єνєя ѕєттℓє ƒσя αη αηѕωєя ιƒ уσυ ѕтιℓℓ ωαηт тσ кησω. ∂ση'т єνєя ѕαу уσυ ∂ση'т ℓσνє нιм ιƒ уσυ ¢αη'т ℓєт нιм gσ ~♥~ ~♥~ ƒσя єνєяу вєαυту тнєяє ιѕ αη єує ѕσмєωнєяє тσ ѕєє ιт. ƒσя єνєяу тяυтн тнєяє ιѕ αη єαя ѕσмєωнєяє тσ нєαя ιт. ƒσя єνєяу ℓσνє тнєяє ιѕ α нєαят ѕσмєωнєяє тσ яє¢єινє ιт ~♥~ ~♥~ тнє ¢яα¢кѕ ιη тнє ¢ση¢яєтє яємιη∂ тнαт ησ мαттєя нσω ѕтяσηg уσυ αяє, уσυ ωιℓℓ αℓωαуѕ ƒαℓℓ αραят αт ѕσмє ρσιηт ιη уσυя ℓιƒє ~♥~ ~♥~ ηєνєя ƒяσωη...єνєη ωнєη уσυ'яє ѕα∂ '¢αυѕє уσυ ηєνєя кησω ωнєη ѕσмєσηє'ѕ ƒαℓℓιηg ιη ℓσνє ωιтн уσυя ѕмιℓє ~♥~ ~♥~ ι ωαℓкє∂ тняσυgн тнє нαℓℓωαу нσℓ∂ιηg му ωяιѕтѕ, нσριηg ησ σηє ωιℓℓ ѕєє мє ℓιкє тнιѕ. нє ℓσσкѕ αт мє, ѕ¢αяє∂ ωнαт нє'ℓℓ ƒιη∂. нє ηєνєя тнσυgнт ι нα∂ тнєѕє тнιηgѕ ιη мιη∂. нє αѕкѕ мє, "...ιѕ тнєяє αηу мσяє؟" ℓσσкιηg αт нιм ωιтн тєαяѕ ιη му єуєѕ ι ωнιѕρєя α ѕιмρℓє яєρℓу,...'єνєя ωση∂єяє∂ ωнαт вяα¢єℓєтѕ ωєяє ƒσя'..؟ ~♥~ ~♥~ ѕσмєтιмєѕ ωє мυѕт вє нυят ιη σя∂єя тσ gяσω, ƒαℓℓ ιη σя∂єя тσ кησω, ℓσѕє ιη σя∂єя тσ gαιη. αη∂ ѕσмєтιмєѕ ωє нανє тσ вє вяσкєη ѕσ ωє ¢αη вє ωнσℓє αgαιη ♥~ ~♥~ ησт єνєη мαкє υρ ¢συℓ∂ мαкє нєя вєαυтιƒυℓ...вє¢αυѕє яєαℓ вєαυту ¢σмєѕ ƒяσм ℓσνιηg уσυяѕєℓƒ αη∂ тнαт'ѕ ѕσмєтнιηg ѕнє ¢αη ηєνєя ∂σ ~♥~ ~♥~ яєαℓ тєαяѕ αяє ησт тнσѕє тнαт ƒαℓℓ ƒяσм тнє єуєѕ αη∂ ¢σνєя тнє ƒα¢є вυт αяє тнσѕє тнαт ƒαℓℓ ƒяσм тнє нєαят αη∂ ¢σνєя тнє ѕσυℓ ~♥~ ~♥~ ℓєαяη тσ αρρяє¢ιαтє тнє яαιηвσω αƒтєя ¢υяѕιηg тнє яαιη. ιт’ѕ נυѕт ℓιкє ℓσνιηg αgαιη αƒтєя єχρєяιєη¢ιηg тнє ραιη ~♥~ ~♥~ уσυ ηєνєя кησω ωнєη уσυ ωιℓℓ ℓσѕє ѕσмєσηє, ѕσ gяαв тнєм αη∂ тєℓℓ тнєм тнαт уσυ ¢αяє ησω вє¢αυѕє ιт мιgнт вє тнє ℓαѕт тιмє уσυ ωιℓℓ єνєя вє αвℓє тσ ~♥~ ~♥~ тнє ѕку ιѕη'т αℓωαуѕ вℓυє. тнє ѕυη ∂σєѕη'т αℓωαуѕ ѕнιηє. ѕσ ιт'ѕ σкαу тσ ƒαℓℓ αραят ѕσмєтιмєѕ ~♥~ ~♥~ мσѕт σƒ тнє ιмρσятαηт тнιηgѕ ιη тнє ωσяℓ∂ нανє вєєη α¢¢σмρℓιѕнє∂ ву ρєσρℓє ωнσ нανє кєρт ση тяуιηg ωнєη тнєяє ѕєємє∂ тσ вє ησ нσρє αт αℓℓ ~♥~ ~♥~ тєαяѕ ƒяσм тнє нєαят, тєαяѕ ƒяσм тнє ѕσυℓ, тєαяѕ ƒяσм єνєяуωнєяє, тнєу тαкє ¢σηтяσℓ ~♥~ ~♥~ ωнєη ι ∂σ ѕσмєтнιηg gяєαт, ησ σηє єνєя ѕєємѕ тσ яємємвєя, вυт ωнєη ι ∂σ ѕσмєтнιηg ωяσηg, ησ σηє ¢αη єνєя ѕєєм тσ ƒσяgєт ~♥~ girl misunderstood 51 followers 82 following
In 1989 a woman gave birth to a girl who had down syndrome, and a hole in her heart and stomach. She died 3 years later. Her next child was miscarried. She got pregnant again and was told to have an abortion that refused even though she knew the risks were high for her and the baby. Here I am 14 years later, perfectly healthy. Mom, your LGMH Dec 1st, 2014
David Lee Furr (1959-1977) David Furr - Class Of 1977 Evansville Player Kılled in Newton Crash College basketball player, David Furr’s life was saved by an ankle ìnjury—but the reprieve from deäth was a brief one. In December 1977, a chartered airplane carrying the University of Evansville men’s basketball team crashed shortly after takeoff, k¨lling all on board. David Lee Furr, 18, who had been sidelined with an ankle ìnjury was k-lled when involved in a right angle collision with a pickup truck driven by Leroy Wakefield, 55, Newton. David Furr was thrown from the car and pronounced đeađ at the scene. At 19:12:41, Air Indiana flight 216 made a beeline for runway 18. Because the flight had lifted off before achieving the normal takeoff speed of 84 knots, it lacked the energy required to enter a stable climb. The plane entered an abnormally steep climb and suffered a serious loss of airspeed. But the plane was only̕ 100 feet or so above the ground, struggling. Air Indiana flight 216 made a 180-degree left turn across the adjacent runway 22, then began to descend as the wings lost lift and the plane edged close to a stall. The plane clipped the tops of some trees then rolled into an uncontrollable right bank. Flying far too slowly to climb but stuck only a few meters above the ground, the DC-3 entered a right-hand spiral, banked about 85 degrees, stalled, and corkscrewed nose-first into the ground. The plane slammed into a field at the edge of a ravine, ripping open the fuselage and spewing debris and passengers down the hillside and across the railroad tracks below. The full load of fuel ignited and a fireball ripped through the wreckage, sendıng a dull boom echoing out in to the frozen night. Seconds later, an explosıon erupted. 18-year-old freshman player Greg Smith, survived long enough to be taken to hospital, but despite doctors’ heroic attempts to save his life, he passed away due to massıve ìnjury about five hours after the crash. The Air Indiana Flight 216 crash occurred on December 13, 1977, at 19:22 CST, when a Douglas DC-3, registration N51071 carrying the University of Evansville basketball team, the Evansville Purple Aces, lost control and crashed shortly after takeoff at the Evansville Regional Airport in Evansville, Indiana. The plane was on its way to Nashville International Airport, taking the team to play the Middle Tennessee Blue Raiders in Murfreesboro. Rudder and right aileron control locks not removed before takeoff. As it was, extra baggage shifted the plane's center of gravity, and the locked rudder and aileron made it impossible to control the overw3ight aircraft. Four of the passengers were still breathıng when found by rescuers, with three dy1ng on the scène and one dy1ng hours after the accıdent. Twenty-four passengers clambered on board, which in addition to the two pilots, the flight attendant, and two airline managers made for a total of 29 people on board. Passengers: 26 Crew: 3 Fatalities: 29 Survivors: 0 Airplane crew: Pilot - Ty Van Pham (1935-1977) Pilot of the DC-3 (aged 42) Copilot - Gaston Pacheco Ruiz (1942-1977) (aged 35) Pamela Ann “Pam” Smith (1953-1977) Flight Attendant (aged 24) Charles Ellis Goad (1916-1977) Robert W Hudson (1916-1977) Gregory Jon Knipping (1950-1977) Charles Merlin Shike (9 Feb 1941-13 Dec 1977) James Martin Stewart (1948–1977) Head coach - Robert “Bobby” Lee Watson (1942-1977) Warren Alston (1959-1977) Jeffery Paul Bohnert (1956-1977) Ray A. Comandella (1958-1977) Michael Stephen Duff (1959-1977) Kraig S. Heckendorn (1958-1977) Michael Douglas Joyner (1958-1977) Kevin Porter Kingston (1956-1977) Mark Alan “Tank” Kirkpatrick (1956-1977) Mark Douglas Kniese (1957-1977) Barney Julius Lewis (1959-1977) Stephen Allen Miller (1957-1977) Keith Brian Moon (1957-1977) Mark Edward Siegel (1958-1977) Greg Smith (1959-1977) Bryan F Taylor (1957-1977) John Ed Washington (1955-1977) Marion Anthony “Tony” Winburn (1954-1977) In any tragedy fate always seems to play a role but in the Dec. 13, 1977 plane crash that claimed the lıves of the Evansville Aces there were several ironies that can’t be overlooked. * McLeansboro native and current Utah Jazz Coach Jerry Sloan, who led Evansville to a pair of Division II national titles, was hired as the head coach at Evansville prior to the start of the 1977-78 season, but abruptly resigned the position three weeks later. Bobby Watson, an assistant at Oral Roberts, was hired to replace Sloan and was in the crash. * David Lee, a teammate of Sloan at McLeansboro, had agreed to work as an assistant with Sloan at Evansville during the 1977-78 season. After Sloan resigned the position was not available to Lee, who later went on to lead McLeansboro to a Class A state title in 1984. The Foxes compiled a perfect 35-0 record and were led by Brian Sloan – Jerry’s son. * West Frankfort standout Greg Smith had signed to play for Joe Ramsey at Millikan University and was already on campus when he was asked to try out for one open scholarship at Evansville. Smith beat out more than 20 others and won the full-ride scholarship. Smith then transferred to Evansville and was in the crash less than three months later. * Mike Duff was recruited by virtually every college in the nation including Kentucky, Duke, North Carolina, Illinois and UCLA. Duff signed a letter-of-intent to attend Missouri and play for legendary Coach Norm Stewart but later changed his mind and opted out of the contract to attend Evansville. The fact Evansville was making the move to Division I that year allowed Duff to get out of the contract with Missouri. Like Smith, Duff would dıe less than three months later. * Tom Collins, a reporter with the Evansville Courier, was scheduled to travel with the team to Nashville on Dec. 13, 1977 to cover the game against Middle Tennessee State, but his assignment was changed by his editor at the last minute and he remained in Evansville. Collins had planned to drive to Nashville the following day to cover the Dec. 14 game against Middle Tennessee State – a game that was never played. * David Furr was a star basketball player at Olney High School and had a scholarship to play at Millikan University. Instead he opted to go to Evansville and walk on. Furr injur3d his ankle while trying out for the Aces but Coach Bobby Watson said that he had like what he saw from Furr and asked him to stay with the team and try out again after his ankle healed. While his ankle was on the mend Furr became the team statistician, working home games but not traveling with the team. So, Furr was lucky he wasn’t on the doomed plane that night in December 1977 and actually became the only team member to survive. But, fate was still not through during that cruel December because Furr and his brother Byron were both kılled in a two-car crash while they were driving home from a holiday basketball tournament in Charleston. David Furr was driving and lost control of the vehicle and crossed the centerline striking a utility truck head on. The accıdent took place on Dec. 27 – exactly two weeks to the day after the plane crash.
Terms for the Mvrder of Loved Ones Amicicide: of one’s friend (amicus - friend) Avunculicide: of one’s uncle (avunculus - maternal uncle) Familicide: of one’s family (spouse and children) (familia - family) Filicide: of one’s daughter or son (filia - daughter; filius - son) Fratricide: of one’s brother (or sibling) (frater - brother; fratrem - sibling) Mariticide: of one’s husband (or spouse) (maritus - husband, spouse) Matricide: of one’s mother (mater - mother) Neonaticide: of one’s newborn child (neo - new; natus - born) Patricide: of one’s father (pater - father) Prolicide: of one’s offspring (proles - offspring) Senicide: of one’s elder (senes - elderly; senex - old man) Sororicide: of one’s sister (soror - sister) Uxoricide: of one’s wife (uxor - wife, spouse) Amiticide: of one’s aunt (amita - paternal aunt) Aniclicide: of one’s female elder (anicla - old woman) Avicide: of one’s grandparent (avia - grandmother; avus - grandfather) Conjicide: of one’s spouse (conjux, coniux - spouse, husband, wife) Nepticide: of one’s niece (nepti - niece)
WIFE "Honey, I'm home!" I yelled, seeing my wife sitting at the dinner table already. "Nice to see you." her voice shook, a plastic smile stuck on her face. "It was a long day at work. Hey, do you mind maybe checking out upstairs? I saw your clothes strewn around...' I shrug, and start to eat dinner. "Of course!" A fuller, bigger smile. She races upstairs, and I continue eating. escarysories It's been quite a while, does it really take that long to put away clothes? So I tiptoe upstairs, and hear panicked whispering. *9111 Yes okay, this man thinks I'm his wife and.. ohmygod he's coming! My address j.* "What's going on, honey?" She screams as I impale the knife into her chest.
r/TwoSentenceHorror 6 hr. ago AnonymousNeverKnown ↓ I chuckled to myself, changing the 'is" to "was" on celebrities' wikipedia pages when they weren't dead. Imagine my horror when I saw breaking news about a plane crash, killing those very celebrities.
r/shortscarystories 10 hr. ago KieranWriter Family Photo The father stood at the front of the family photo and beamed a huge smile. The kids were seated in front of the father on little stools. His wife Deborah was at his side and he had his arms around her. The camera was an automatic one the father had set before quickly running to get in to the frame. Click. Big smiles. The father walked over to the camera. Just one more. Click. Big smiles. It was done. A perfect family portrait. Get this up in a frame and he can take it with him wherever he goes... The father put the kids to their beds and then his wife in front of the TV. It was Desperate Housewives; her favourite! It made the father smile. Don’t worry dear, I’ll do the dishes. I’ll load the washing. You just watch TV. The father was a perfect husband. He did everything that he said he would. A real whizz around the house. The house was sparkling by the time he had finished. There was a chime on Deborah’s phone. It was her sister Mary - Hey, not heard from you all day. You ok? Deborah won’t mind, I will just shoot off a short message so that Mary isn’t too alarmed. - Hey all good, just watching TV, really tired. Long day. Off to bed soon xx. It’s fine. They look at each other’s phones all the time. There’s trust in this relationship. A reply from Mary - OK call me tomorrow xx The father thought for a moment, just a moment, a flicker of worry, then replied - sorry better I don’t, I’ve caught a bad sore throat. The father went into the living room to Deborah and gave her a big kiss on the forehead... The next day, the father puts the frame up in the hallway, it will be the first thing that people will see when they walk into the house - the beautiful family, everybody’s dream... Then he spent about an hour mowing the lawn. After everything around the house was sorted, the father knew he could relax, finally relax and that the pressure was on for anything unexpected visits, so they don't walk into a dirty home... He got into the car and took it out of the garage, turned it around and hit the road heading out of suburbs and through the city. He loved his family, he really did, but sometimes a man needs a change and this father needs a fresh start. It wasn’t his first change of scenery. He looked at the copy of the picture of his wife and kids on the dash board and he felt a stab of pain... If only he had taken that picture when they were still alive...
r/TwoSentenceHorror 11 hr. ago SkullStar “I only want two kids; no more, no less”, my husband reassured me as I smiled. The twins went inside the house and as my husband's pregnant mistress crossed the street, my foot pressed on the gas pedal.
r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago myymyy Rollercoaster "Mooooom, I don't like it. I want to get off!" I was a bit surprised. He had always been so brave. I was way more afraid than him when we got on. I never liked to be so high up from the ground. "This will be so much fun!", he had said when we were parking the car. I had kinda hoped he would be strong for both of us. "Oh honey, I'm sorry but we can't get off now, the ride has already started. But remember the small rollercoaster, in the park we went to when you were little? With the funny clown? This is just like that, only bigger. And remember how AWESOME it was?" My son looked at me with watery eyes. He had been so excited about this. I tried to swallow my own nervousness and keep talking to calm him down. My voice was shaking a bit, but I managed to put on a smile. "It's okay, it's okay. You might feel a bit funny in your stomach. It's because of the speed and the changes in the force that pushes you. It's normal! Listen, do you hear? Other people are scared too." He looked at me with his kind, blue eyes and nodded. Just barely. I wanted to hug him, but my back was pressing to the seat so heavily I couldn't move enough. So was his. My eyes caught a glimpse of the sun over my sons head. The sky was so bright. I tried to ignore the metallic clanging sound and people screaming somewhere that seemed to be so far away. Oh, how I missed the ground. Then I felt a big drop on my stomach. We were going faster and faster. My son started sobbing and I tightened my grib on his hand. I thought that he would become such a handsome man someday. He would end up having a good life, and marry a nice girl - or a guy, who knows? I didn't care as long as he was happy. That's all I wanted. For him to be happy and not scared. "Hey, you know what? Close your eyes. This will be over soon. I'm here. I'm not letting go." Someone behind us started to scream. I felt my blood run cold. I tried to keep my focus on the one thing that mattered: my sons hand and my calm voice that kept telling him that it was all going to be okay. Oh, he would become such a handsome man someday. But at this moment he was just a 6 year old boy on his first flight, going to surprise his grandparents all the way across the country. And the last thing I saw before I closed my own eyes, was the second engine on fire...
I was at my friends house, whose 5yr old little brother died very recently due to a fire. He lived with his aunt and uncle. At dinner, his 4yr old cousin blessed the meal. "Dear God, thank you for this meal. And I know your keeping Brenden safe. Never stop playing with him. Amen." Little kids GMH Mar 23, 2011 at 11:30pm by Carly, AR
https://www.bassettbranches.org/tng/getperson.php?personID=I9186&tree=14B Francis Edmund Bessette Male 1904 - 1917 (~ 12 years) Name Francis Edmund Bessette Father Augustin Seymour Bessette, b. 1870, d. 28 Aug 1948 (Age 78 years) Mother Marie Louise Poulin Born Jul 1904 Richford, Vermont Gender Male Died 1917 Richford, Vermont The Bennington Evening Banner, Friday, October 10, 1919 Boy Suffocates In Elevator Head Forced Between Knees When Caught in Pit by Descending Car Richford, Oct. 8 ? Edmund (Edward?) Bessette, the 15-year-old son of Mr. and Mrs. Seymour Bessette, died of suffocation shortly after six o?clock tonight in a very unusual accident, his body being caught between the bottom of an elevator pit and the descending elevator, which forced his head between his knees and shut off his breath. The accident happened as the lad went down to the basement of the Sweat Comings building for the purpose of getting some cracked ice to put in ice cream tanks for he Corliss Candy Kitchen where he was emplo9yed after school hours. The buckets were filled with ice and it is supposed that the boy pulled the cable starting the elevator down and it pushed him under it. The accident was discovered when the boy failed to show up. H.H. Comings, first selectman, and Dr. R. M. Pelton were summoned and removed the body to the undertaking rooms of Powell & Comings, where and examination was held. No broken bones or even abrasions were discovered on the body and death was found due to suffocation. Buried All Saints Cemetery, Richford, Vermont https://www.bassettbranches.org/tng/getperson.php?personID=I9186&tree=14B
Today my aunt found out she's having a girl She told me she was upset, I asked why She said "I don't think anyone can live up to be as great as you, but then I remember that she will have you to look up to and to become as wonderful" My aunts love for me GMH:) Jul 15, 2013 at 4:00am by Ashley S
Yesterday I saw a mother and daughter studying for a big test, and the daughter has a disability . A man at the restaurant paid for their dinner and said, " God bless you for taking the time and working with YOUR daughter, and not paying someone else to do it". Loving families like this GMH ! Mar 22, 2011 at 3:00am by Morgan E, Nashville, TN
Go to TwoSentenceHorror r/TwoSentenceHorror 13 hr. ago Classic-Dog8399 ˢᶜʳᵒˡˡ ᵖˡˢ ⬇️ When I picked up my daughter from the mental institution, something was off about her. It was not just the feeling in my soul, but the stitches across her forehead.
What GENS are y’all? 🤨 Lost Gen – 1883-1900 😩 Greatest Gen – 1901-1927 👵🏽👴🏾 Silent Gen – 1928-1945 🤫 Baby Boomer Gen – 1946-1964 👩🏽‍🍼👶🏽👨🏾‍🍼 Gen X – 1965 - 1980 ❌ Millennial – 1981-1996 💎 Gen Z – 1997-2012 💤 Gen Alpha – 2013 - present 🎁
r/shortscarystories 3 yr. ago deontistic Unnatural Birth ᵀᵂ ᶜᵘᵗˢ There was no other way, and there was no one else. The grotesque swell to the belly, the unnatural writhing, my indescribable pain—I was panicked, but I knew it was up to me. I had to do it. No one else seemed to have the spine to offer anything more than assistance. Clinically . . . I had to think clinically. And I had to move fast, had to take the kn*fe and cut—yet I had to be careful not to cut too deep. To cut too deep would mean certain disaster, wouldn’t it. I had to šhut everything down; I had to šhut off the lights in all my rooms except the one where I would cut. I had to ignore my paın . . . exit the moment . . . had to proceed. I took the kn*fe and placed its blxde on the belly, then I pressed and dragged—not too hãrd, but firm. The layers cut more easily than I’d imagined, and my incision was true. Still, no time to waste . . . had to keep moving. I pulled back the layers and reached deep into the belly. He was right there, my chıld, my soñ . . . I held him in my hands inside the belly, then I pulled him through the viscera, the muscle, the skın. I held him in my arms, covered in blood as he was, eyès half øpened staring at nothing. Of course he was đeađ, just as they’d said he’d be. I held him . . . and I wailed . . . and wailed . . . I hated . . . I hated my husband for making us come to the Amazon with him, hated myself for not refusing to come. I hated that I’d look͘ed̛ away, even though it’d only been for the slightest of moments. And though the beast hadn’t acted out of malevolence as my heart told me it surely must’ve, but only out of its instinct to survive . . . I hated the anaconda, too. My boy, my little James . . . he was just two . . .
r/shortscarystories 2 yr. ago Monechetti Can't choose where you're born I live in a pretty brutal part of town. My mom was an addict and, after she died when I was 15 I became the head of the household. Sometimes my aunt watches my younger brother and sister while I work and sometimes I just have to lock the door. Hope that my siblings are okay while I'm gone. It's difficult but we make it work because we have to. My neighborhood is filled with addicts like my mother. Murder is a regular occurrence and drive-bys happen pretty much once or twice a week. Most people will think nothing of a body laying in the gutter for 2 weeks at a time before the city finally comes and takes it away, and the police never investigate crimes here. You can't choose where you're born but I've been saving money to get me and my siblings out of this place. I was on my way to my second job when I ran into the strangers. They were out of place standing at the edge of an alley like they had just been dumped there. They were both wearing white suits - impeccably clean white suits, which I thought was weird considering how dirty everything was - and they had startled looks on their faces. "Y'all look lost," I said. One of them turned to me and smiled. "We are, yes. We traveled here and need a place to stay for the night. Could you help us?" I didn't want to bring them to my house because of the kids - these guys seemed harmless but you never can trust anyone. I decided to take them to an abandoned trap house a few doors down. On our way we were mugged. I recognize the guys from my high school. I handed over my money and they left me alone but the travelers didn't have anything except the clothes on their back. He took their shoes and roughed them up pretty bad. I apologized - not sure why - and stated that we should go quicker. We were assaulted again on the next block, and propositioned by a pimp and several people trying to sell drugs at the underpass. I let them into the house when we finally got there and said that this was a safe place. The men looked weary, angry, and sad all the same time but they thanked me for my hospitality. I left and went to work. When I came home I decided to check on the travelers and found that the door to the house had been kicked in. Inside I found one of them beaten to death and the other one trembling in the corner. He looked at me accusingly and said "I thought this was your home - why would you lead us to a place where we would be attacked?" I told him I thought they'd be safe there but he stopped listening and shook his head. He stood up and went outside and looked at the sky; the clear moon shown down but clouds quickly gathered. He started praying. "Father," he shouted, "there are none here who are without sin." He looked at me and sneered before vanishing, the clouds flashing orange and red as his final words floated on the wind. "Burn it all down".
r/shortscarystories 3 mo. ago Intrepid_Wanderer ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ Delivery Room My grandparents were worried when I said I'd decided to get the tablet. They're a bit old-fashioned, but they mean well. The thing is, it's 2084. Most people who can get the tablet just go ahead and accelerate through all nine months of pregnancy. The baby can be born as soon as the parents like- no need to endure mornıng sickness or false warnings for labor. And miscarriages are nearly a thing of the past- most babies are accelerated at the first warning. Medical technology is truly amazing. Not everyone accelerates. Some people worry about those obscure studies on bonding ability in accelerated babies, some consider a "natural" course an unmissable experience and some just don't have access to it. Most of the time, though, people accelerate. I was so excited to get to the hospital. I didn't even get an ultrasound done first- the test was positive, and I was about to see my baby anyway in a few minutes. There were the occasional horror stories. Most of them were urban legends, tales of some quack who messed up and made horrific things happen. Truth was, there was very little to mess up, especially at a nice clinic like this one. With today's medications, I could expect to hardly feel the labor and go home with my family on the same day. They said I'd feel a tingling in my abdomen, maybe even some light kicking. At first I did, but it was more uncomfortable than I'd imagined. It was like a twisting, stretching sensation inside of me. I hated to imagine what it might have been like if the tablet didn't also act as an aesthetic. I tried to close my eyes and breathe through it. Something was soaking through the bed- must be my water breakıng. But it smelled metallic, and I was so dizzy. Why didn't I hear crying? Shouldn't it have worked by now? Someone started shouting, but I couldn't open my eyes to see why. The last thing I heard before losing consciousness was a doctor asking about ultrasounds and the words "ectopic pregnancy."
Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 6 yr. ago JCarnacki A child's story. We gots to go to the hopsital today. Mommy got me a new baby brother for my birfday just like I telled her. My new brother is James and I love him! Mommy has been sleeping but she just waked up when the doctor opened the door. The doctor looks sad. Now mommy is crying. Daddy is crying too. What is, "can sir?"
To my dear darling baby. Author: Anonymous Baby Name: Baby Zepeda Birth Date: May 2011 Abortion Date: October 2010 The pain sometimes is so hard to bear, even after 11 years. I regretted it all the moment I woke up from the procedure. I screamed, “My baby!”. I’m so sorry I was weak and insecure. Your dad didn’t want to keep you because we were barely making it and didn’t want to give you a bad life. I was scared, no one would love me like your dad and he would leave me if I kept you. How wrong we were. He wouldn’t have left me. He would have loved you so much. Baby, you are missed every second of my life. Both your dad and I regret our decision. He also hurts for you too even tho he doesn’t show it. You have 2 sisters and 1 brother. I can’t wait to hug you and hold and kiss you in heaven. Oh my baby. How could I have been so stupid and weak. I know you are with God, Jesus y tu bisabuela y tus tios! I love you with all my being and hope you can forgive me. Your passing lead me to God. The only positive. I love you! Posted: Jul 6, 2022
𝖡𝖱𝖠𝖨𝖭 𝖢𝖧𝖨𝖯 𝗉𝗍. 8 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖤𝖴𝖱𝖮𝖥𝖠𝖡𝖴𝖫𝖮𝖴𝖲) As she pulled the blankets up to his chin, Plankton's hand reached out, grasping for hers. "Stay," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen squeezed his hand gently. "Always," she promised. They sat in the quiet of the room, the only sound the rhythmic squeezing of the fidget toy. Plankton's eyelid grew heavy, his breathing deepening. "It's ok," Karen whispered, stroking his forehead. "Rest now." Plankton's hand tightened briefly around hers before his grip slackened. His eye fluttered closed, and she watched him slip into a deep, much-needed sleep. During the week, Plankton got more comfortable as Karen helped make adjustments. She let him stim safely without any judgment, even suggesting different ways to fidget. And she saw Plankton's old self shine through, too. As usual, he stayed up late watching movies. He'd sigh and lightly tease Karen when it came to mundane matters. Yet she knew when it came to sensory matters and potential triggers, it's unnegotiable. He did open up to her more due to his fears which came from the autism. He didn't try to steal the krabby patty formula any more, but that didn't stop him from spying on the krusty krab. But their son Chip, whom they adopted at birth, was going to come home. Chip had left during the beginning of the week before Plankton acquired autism, to a week long camp with some school mates of his. But now it's the weekend, and Chip will be coming back from his trip today. Karen felt a pang of anxiety as she thought about Chip seeing Plankton. Would he understand? Would he be scared? Would he still love him? "Plankton, Chip's old enough to underst--" "No," Plankton said firmly, his voice clear. "I don't want anyone to know." Karen knew his fear of change, of being different. "But, Plankton," she began, her voice gentle. "Chip is our son, and he might notice changes..." Plankton's eye grew stormy. "No," he repeated. "I don't want to be..." Plankton trails off as Chip himself came in excitedly. "Mom; Dad!" Plankton's gaze darted to their son, his hand tightening around his fidget toy. She watched as Chip rushed over, his eyes full of excitement from his camp adventures. "Hi, I'm home!" Chip says, hugging Karen before turning to Plankton. Plankton's body tensed, his eye avoiding Chip's gaze. "Hi, son," he murmured, his voice forced, But Chip, ever cheerful, doesn't seem to notice. "Dad!" Chip said, launching himself at Plankton. "Welcome home," Plankton said, his voice a monotone. Chip's expression fell a little, but his excitement was too great to be dampened. "How was camp?" Karen asked, trying to ease the tension. Chip's enthusiasm was infectious. "It was amazing! We did archery, and I even made a new friend!" Plankton's gaze remained on the fidget toy, his thumb flicking the switch back and forth. "That's... nice," he managed, his voice tight. Karen could see the effort he was making to engage. Chip chattered away, not noticing the strain in Plankton's voice. "Her name's Luna, and she's super cool! We're gonna be pen pals!" Plankton's gaze flicks up to meet Karen's. She gave him an encouraging smile, willing him to find his place in the conversation. "Cool," he murmured, his mind racing to process the sudden flood of information. "Pen pals." Karen watched as Chip's eyes searched Plankton's face, his youthful innocence unable to comprehend the gravity of the situation. "Why don't you show us if you've any pictures you took?" she suggested, trying to shift the focus. Chip nodded, eagerly pulling out his phone. He sat beside Plankton, scrolling through the photos, his excitement a stark contrast to his father's detached demeanor. Plankton's eye flicked to the screen, his heart racing at the thought of impending touch. Karen watched as Chip's fingers hovered over a picture of himself and Luna. "Look, Dad," he said, holding out the phone. Plankton blinked. "Oh nice," he says. But as Chip's hand reached out to hug, Plankton's arm shot up, his antennae quivering. "Don't," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "Don't touch me." Chip's hand hovered in the air, confusion clouding his features. "But, Da-" Karen stepped in quickly. "It's ok," she whispered. "We're all family."
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