Horror and Terror Emojis & Text

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MAR 08 When you are admitted to a hospital, they place on your wrist a white wristband with your name on it. But there are other different colored wristbands which symbolize other things. The red wristbands are placed on dead people. There was one surgeon who worked on night shift in a school hospital. He had just finished an operation and was on his way down to the basement. He entered the elevator and there was just one other person there. He casually chatted with the woman while the elevator descended. When the elevator door opened, another woman was about to enter when the doctor slammed the close button and punched the button to the highest floor. Surprised, the woman reprimanded the doctor for being rude and asked why he did not let the other woman in. The doctor said, “That was the woman I just operated on. She died while I was doing the operation. Didn’t you see the red wristband she was wearing?” The woman smiled, raised her arm, and said, “Something like this?”

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡Ø

Over a century ago, the woman was encouraged to keep her child after she's considering pregnancy termination. "your baby could be an artist or grow up to be a world leader" they had said, so she kept it and went to give birth to a baby boy c. 1888 He's named Adolf

*gulp* sigmas add me on discord im really cool !! @73.707

https://emojicombos.com/read-before-doing-horror

https://emojicombos.com/how-to-write-horror

horror story (plural horror stories) (fiction) A fictional narrative of distressing events. The film is based on a horror story by Edgar Allan Poe. (informal) A disturbing rumour. ▼ We've heard horror stories about people being attacked in the elevator. An unpleasant experience. ▼ It was more of a horror story than a vacation. Translations Chinese Mandarin: 恐怖故事 (kǒngbù gùshì) Dutch: horrorverhaal (nl) n Finnish: kauhutarina (fi) French: histoire d’horreur f, histoire d’épouvante f Hungarian: horrortörténet Spanish: historia de terror, historia de miedo f Swedish: skräckhistoria (sv) Uyghur: قورقۇنچلۇق ھېكايە‎ (qorqunchluq hëkaye) ghost story (plural ghost stories) A story about ghosts or the supernatural, often meant to be frightening. quotations ▲ 2012, Andrew Martin, Underground Overground: A passenger's history of the Tube, Profile Books, →ISBN, page 261: There are the books full of Underground ghost stories. An invisible runner pounds along the platforms at Elephant & Castle; children scream in the basement of what used to be the surface building of Hyde Park Corner, [...] Translations ▲±story about ghosts Catalan: història de fantasmes f Chinese: Mandarin: 鬼故事 (guǐgùshì) Finnish: kummitusjuttu French: histoire de fantômes f German: Gespenstergeschichte (de) f Hungarian: kísértethistória (hu) Irish: scéal taibhsí m Italian: racconto dell'orrore m Korean: 괴담 (goedam) Norwegian: spøkelsesfortelling Portuguese: história de fantasmas f Spanish: historia de fantasmas f, cuento de fantasmas m Swedish: spökhistoria (sv) Welsh: stori fwgan f, stori ysbryd f

https://creepyspooketty.fandom.com/wiki/Rules

https://aminoapps.com/c/creepypasta-tm/page/item/community- rules/X4gV_3jiXIRG72JmMgjN73k8BxdD5RGLop

RULES ! posted 9 months ago ⚰︎ we will not write anything related to self harm, eating disorders, abuse as this can be triggering not only to us, but to our other followers as well ⚰︎ minors, beware on how you interact with such content. Any Triggering Topics mentioned in the post should be warned at the beginning of the post! (Putting it in the title is okay too)

MAR 01 In Berlin, after World War II, money was short, supplies were tight, and it seemed like everyone was hungry. At that time, people were telling the tale of a young woman who saw a blind man picking his way through a crowd. The two started to talk. The man asked her for a favor: could she deliver the letter to the address on the envelope? Well, it was on her way home, so she agreed. She started out to deliver the message, when she turned around to see if there was anything else the blind man needed. But she spotted him hurrying through the crowd without his smoked glasses or white cane. She was, naturally, suspicious, so she went to the police. When the police paid a visit to the address on the envelope, they made a gruesome discovery, three butchers had been where the envelope was addressed to. And what was in the envelope the man gave to the woman? A note, saying simply “This is the last one I am sending you today.”.

----- Any stories involving triggering subjects must have a trigger warning -In addition stories, roleplay or jokes that include the mention of abusing Insensitive profiles are not allowed, this includes Nazi/ ww2 aesthetics that glorifies Ww2 and any profiles that glorify terrible points in history will not be tolerated including racism, harassment, etc. -In addition to this the use of slurs are not allowed Please respect and follow the rules, we want to keep the community nice!

Mother Warned Me Mother always warned me not to cross the street. Mother warned me about those types of things. She said bad men would kidnap me, take me away. I guess she was right, in a way. I crossed one day, because I was never a good child, and several men came out and picked me up and asked me many questions. I don’t know why she never wanted me to cross the street. All the men wore blue and had badges. I don’t know why they put silver bracelets on Mother. I don’t know why Mother attempted to bite one of them. I don’t know a lot of things, I suppose. And years later, I’ll never know why she made me call her Mother.

“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

Tuesday, March 31st, 2015 | I only go shopping at night The cashier swipes my items across the scanner as I stare at the floor. I find it easiest to get through my anxiety by avoiding eye contact with other people. That’s why I only go shopping at night fewer people to avoid. “Did you find everything okay?” she asks casually. “Mm-hmm,” I mumble to the floor. Her voice sounds nice. Pleasant. Curiosity wins over and I glance up. The cashier’s head is completely caved in on the left side. Probably a car accident. I snap my gaze back down towards the floor. After I pay she gives back my change in a hand so mangled I’m surprised it can hold anything at all. Thanking her, I grab my bags and turn towards the exit. Immediately I see a man looking through magazines at the store front. The skin on his face and hands is the consistency of a hot dog that fell into a campfire. Burn victim. I rush out the door as fast as I can. In my car I finally catch my breath as I lean my forehead on the steering wheel. Eventually I look up and see my familiar reflection in the rear-view mirror: my head is blown open in the back. Gunshot victim. Why did I ever wish for the power to see how people die? Credit to reddit user resistance1984

Horror Short Story: The Accident In this horror short story, a man tries to cope with what he has done. Written by: Reddit user Minnboy Halverson sat in his dark living room. He hadn’t moved for over an hour. The accident earlier that evening kept playing over and over in his mind. The light turned red, but he was in a hurry and accelerated. An orange blur came from his right and in a split second there was a violent jolt, then the bicyclist rolled across his hood and fell out of sight on the pavement. Horns blared angrily and he panicked, stepping on the gas and screeching away from the chaos into the darkness, shaken and keeping an eye on his rearview mirror until he got home. Why did you run? He’d never committed a crime before this and punished himself by imagining years in jail, his career gone, his family gone, his future gone. Why not just go to the police right now? Then someone tapped on the front door and his world suddenly crumbled away beneath him. They found me. There was nothing he could do but answer it. Running would only make matters worse. Trembling, he got up, went to the door and opened it. A police officer stood under the porch light. “Mr. Halverson?” asked the grim officer. He let out a defeated sigh. “Yes. Let me —”I am terribly sorry, but I’m afraid I have some bad news. Your son’s bike was struck by a hit and run driver this evening. He died at the scene. I’m very sorry for your loss..."

They’re in the house. No more than a moment or two passes before the door to the bedroom starts shuddering. The things I piled against it are holding, for now, but I know, realistically, that they’re going to manage to come through. I keep rocking my little girl, humming a lullaby in her ear to calm her as she cries. The pounding grows in force and volume, the frame starting to crack. I put my little girl on my lap, her back to my chest, and I stroke her head with both hands, from the top of her scalp, down across her ears, just as I’ve done. Just the way she loves it. The effect is instantaneous. Her desperate crying calms to a series of sobs and hiccoughs, her small body shuddering against mine in fear. I keep humming to her, soothing her hair, acting for all the world as if nothing is out of place, not a single thing amiss. Agonisingly slowly, in a reverse cadence of the sound of splintering wood, she calms down. I can feel it when she stops tensing, as I keep stroking her down the sides of her head. A final hiccough of a sob, and she falls quiet, her body relaxed. She doesn’t even have time to realise what’s happening as I twist her neck with a violent jerk, accompanied by a dry snap of a sound. She’s dead before she can even slump down into my lap. The door is giving way, the furniture pushed back. I may be torn limb from limb while I scream, but at least my baby angel’s safe from harm. 8 YEARS AGO

SEP 27 A 15-year old boy in a small town sat down at his computer after getting home from school one day. He turned it on and logged into an instant messaging program, and was then surprised to receive a message from a classmate of his, who had been absent that day. It consisted of two words; “please come”. Confused, the boy sent a reply, asking why he’d been absent that day. After two more messages and fifteen minutes with no response, he decided to get on his bike and head over to his classmate’s house. It was a short ride, only about five minutes away. When he got to the house, he found the door was unlocked. The boy slammed the door closed, and immediately called 911 on his cell phone. When the police arrived, they found three corpses, as well as tracks leading away from the house from the back door. The forensics report concluded that the entire family, the boy’s classmate and his parents, had been killed sometime the previous night.

The Bank Robber The bank I work at was robbed again last night. It’s been hit three times this month and we’re sure it’s the same person. Every single time, the guy has vanished without a trace. It’s almost as if he completely disappears. There’s no way he should be able to get away so quickly and without leaving any evidence. Last night when the robbery happened, I looked him in the eye for the first time. “Why do you keep doing this?” I asked him, searching his dark eyes for an answer. He stared at me coldly from behind his ski mask and replied “A man’s got to eat.” I’ve thought about it long and hard but I’ve made up my mind: I’m never going back to work at that blood bank again. 8 YEARS AGO

r/TwoSentenceHorror 6 yr. ago Lightuke After tucking my son into bed he says "check under it for monsters under my bed" I found my son hiding under it whimpering "Daddy, there's someone on my bed..."

上帝的鬥士 「如果上帝存在，為什麽世界上會有這麽多的邪惡？」 這是一個常見的問 題，但它是錯位的。所有的事物都必須有平衡。光明和黑暗。善與惡。聲音和 寂靜。沒有一個，另一個就不能存在。「那麽，如果這是真的，那麽上帝就不 做任何事情來打擊邪惡？」 這可能是你腦海中的問題。 「上帝當然會無情地與邪惡鬥爭。我是達塔利安，他最神聖和正義的天使之 一。我在地球上遊蕩，在我發現的地方處置邪惡。我殺死那些你永遠不想知道 的怪物。我將之完全粉碎，這樣你就可以在晚上睡覺。你們人類不知道你們中 有多少人因為我的工作而活著。」 但是史達林呢？希特勒？泰德-邦迪？開膛手傑克？”嗯，那些是我不得不讓他 們活著的小人物。為了平衡。我摧毀的那些人是….，可怕、卑鄙到不該活著 的程度。有趣的是，雖然我敢打賭你從未在任何宗教的文本中聽說過達塔利安 這個名字，但我打賭你聽說過我。例如，美國人稱呼我為：嬰兒猝死綜合症。 原文作者：KMApok

‘Seeing Red (The First Day of School)’ by Zenryhao Everyone loves the first day of school, right? New year, new classes, new friends. I like the first day of school for a different reason, though. You see, I have a sort of power. When I look at people, I can…sense a sort of aura around them. A colour outline based on how long that person has to live. Most everyone I meet around my age is surrounded by a solid green hue, which means they have plenty of time left. A fair amount of them have a yellow orange tinge to their auras, which tends to mean a disease or fire; some tragedy. Anything that takes people “before their time” as they say. The real fun is when the auras venture into the red end of the spectrum, though. Every now and again I’ll see someone who’s basically a stoplight. Those are the ones who get in a car crash, or even a victim of crime. It’s such a rush to see them and know their time is numbered. With that in mind, I always get to class very early so I can scout out my classmates’ fates. The first kid who came in was basically radiating red. I tsk tsk tsk. Huh. But as people kept walking in, they all had the same intense red glow. I finally caught a glimpse of my own fading reflection in the window, but I was too stunned to move. Our professor stepped in and locked the door, his aura a sickening shade of green...

一生中最幸福的一天 我看著即將成為岳父的人握著他女兒的手穿越走道，當名為「婚禮進行曲」的 背景音樂響起，他的臉上有淚珠滑落的痕跡。 我想這是因為這提醒了他，幾分鐘後，他將看著我牽著他女兒的手，為她戴上戒指。 他走上祭壇，我握著她的手，笑得合不攏嘴，這是我一生中最幸福的一天。 新娘的父親跪在地上，開始哀求：「求你了，我已經按你的要求做了，拜託把 我的女兒還給我。」 我瞪了他一眼：「閉嘴，別再破壞這一刻了。如果你坐下來享受儀式，也許我 會告訴你她身體的其他部分藏在哪裡。」 原文作者：recludus

支離破碎的意外 當晚的事故在他的腦海反覆播放： 紅燈亮了，但他的著急使車子加快了速度。一個橙色的模糊物體從他的右邊飛 來，在一瞬間，劇烈的顛簸襲來，那個騎自行車的人從他的引擎蓋上滾過，掉 在人行道上，消失在黑暗中。 喇叭聲激烈地響起，他驚慌失措，踩下油門，從混亂中尖叫著沖向黑暗，顫抖 地盯著後視鏡，直至返家。 「你為什麽要跑，你這個白癡？」 他從未犯過罪，但現在他正通過想象牢獄之災，以及失去事業、家庭、未來的 可怕以懲罰自己。 「為什麽不現在就去找警察？你請得起律師。」 某人敲打蓋伊-哈爾弗森的前門，他腳下的世界崩塌了。 警察找到了他。他除了應門外，什麽也做不了，逃跑只會讓事情變得更糟。他 的身體在顫抖，他起身走到門前，打開門。一位警察站在門廊的燈光下。 「哈爾弗森先生？」這位面無表情的警官問道。他發出了一聲失敗的嘆息。 「是的，讓我 — 」 「非常抱歉，但我恐怕有一些壞消息。 你兒子的自行車今天晚上被一個肇事逃逸的司機撞了……他當場死亡，我為你 感到遺憾。」 原文作者：minnboy

‘First Words‘ by alatus_corruptrix Any day now, she’ll say her first words. My wife and I have been playfully betting on what she’ll say first – ‘Mamá’ or ‘Daddy.’ I can hear my wife crooning over and over while she feeds her ‘Mama’s little girl! Mamá loves you so much!’ Sometimes, she’s not even subtle about it – ‘Say ‘Mamá!’ Come on! ‘Mamá!” I don’t mind it though. I still believe I’ll win. When we first brought her home, she would scream and cry and nothing my wife would say could calm her down. Ours must be a daddy’s girl. I sit her in her chair and my wife and I begin babbling like chickens – ‘Mamá!’ ‘Daddy!’ ‘Say Mamá!’ ‘Who’s daddy’s baby?’ I pull the gag from our little girl’s mouth. “P-please… what do you want from me? Please, let me go…” My wife’s smile falls from her face. With a heavy heart, I put the gag back in as the girl starts to scream. I take her back and dispose of her. When I return, I find my wife crying. “It’s ok, honey,” I tell her; “the next one will be better, I promise.”

開學日 每個人都喜歡上學的第一天，對吧？新的一年，新的課程，新的朋友。在現實 中的沈悶破壞所有樂趣之前，開學日是充滿潛力與希望的一天。 我喜歡開學日有幾種原因，例如，我有一種力量，當我看著別人時，我可 以……感覺到他們周圍有種光，是個彩色的輪廓，能顯示這個人「還能活多久」。 我遇到的大多數和我年齡相仿的人都被一種純綠色的色調包圍，這意味著他們 還有許多餘命。 有一些人的光環是黃色或橙色，這往往意味著車禍或其他悲劇。 真正有趣的是當他們的光環進入光譜的紅色端時。有時，我會看到某些人神似 行走的紅燈，這些都是被謀殺或自殺的人。 看著他們，知道他們時日不多，可真讓人著急。 考慮到這點，我總是很早到教室，這樣我就能偵察同學的命運。 第一個走進來的孩子渾身散發著紅色光芒。我在心裡嘻笑地說：太糟糕了，兄 弟。但隨著人們不斷走進教室，他們都有著同樣強烈的光芒。最終，我在窗戶 上瞥見了我的玫瑰色倒影；但我驚呆了，不敢動一根汗毛。 我們的教授走了進來，鎖上了門，他的光環是令人作嘔的綠色。 原文作者：Zenryhao

這不是你該撕開的『壁紙』 星期一，我想出了一個完美計劃，甚至沒有人知道我和他是朋友。星期二，他 從他父親那兒偷了槍。星期三，我們決定在第二天的動員大會採取行動。星期 四，當整個學校的師生都在體育館時，我們就在門外等著。 我將用槍指著從體育館先走出來的人。然後，他將拿著槍，進入體育館爆破。 我走到輔導員奎恩先生面前，朝他的臉開了三槍，最終，他往後跌入體育館 內，奄奄一息。 槍聲震耳欲聾，禮堂傳來尖叫聲；不過，還沒有人發現我們。 我把槍遞給他，低聲說：”到你了。” 他跑進體育館，開始射擊，而我緊隨其後。 他尚未擊中任何人。孩子們都爭先恐後地躲起來。這是一場混亂。 我跑到他身後，把他撲倒，我們扭打在一起。 我從他手中奪下槍，把槍對準他，然後奪走他的命。 我成功封口了。 星期五，我被譽為英雄，這的確是一個完美的計劃。 原文作者：Huntfrog

https://emojicombos.com/read-before-doing-horror https://emojicombos.com/how-to-write-horror

I destroy the monsters you don’t ever want to know about. by KMApok 'Why is there bad in the world?' It’s a common question, but it is misplaced. Light and dark. Without one, the other cannot exist. I roam the Earth, disposing of the bad wherever I find it. I destroy the ones you don’t even want to know about. I eliminate them completely so you can sleep at night. You people have no idea how many of you live because of the suffocating work I do. 'What about criminals, Mussolini, Adolph...' Well, those are the 'minor' ones I had to let live. For balance. The ones I suffocatingly destroy are too horrible and vile to even speak of... You see, I would wager you never have heard of me, specifically in any religious texts. Still I bet you have known of me. Some, for example, have their own name for me: SID's short for what you might call Sudden Infant Death Syndrome..

I NEED SOME BREAD AND CEREAL TOO June 7, 2017 @hellofinah You get a phone call from your Mum. Since her car has been in the shop, she asks you to go to the grocery store and pick up a few odds and ends for her. Bread, milk, cereal, and chicken... After writing down a small list you reluctantly get in the car and pick up the items at the store. Cashier makes an odd remark to you: “you know, we’re in no danger of a milk shortage...” Once arriving at mum's home, you knock several times. No answer. You decide to try the door. It opens. You place the grocery bag on the counter. Strange. There seems to be six other grocery bags, each with identical contents. In some bags, the chicken and milk have gone stale. You call out for mum, but no reply. You make your way through the kitchen and into the living room. Sitting on the couch, with her detached head neatly resting on her lap, is mum. Naturally you call the police who come over to investigate. They mention that she has been dead for nearly a week. Furthermore, the police psychiatrist is at the scene and talks to you after you give your initial statement. Sitting on the front steps, you overhear the psychiatrist talking with the crime scene investigator. “It’s not uncommon for people suffering from schizophrenia to get locked into series of repetitive behaviour” he says. You think to yourself, “They can’t be talking about me. Schizophrenia? Nah. Repetitive behavior? Do they think I did this?” Suddenly your cell phone goes off. “Hello?” “Hi hun, it’s me. Could you stop at the store and pick up some chicken and milk. Ohh, and I need some bread and cereal too.” “No problem, mum; I’ll be right over…”

As I played in the basement, Mother called me upstairs. From behind me, She whispered, ‘Don’t go up there.’ — CheckeredBag

The Vanishing Hitch-Hiker Author: Jan Harold Brunvand This next eerie story is about a man driving home late in the night when he spots a girl asking for a hitchhike. The pretty girl is dressed in a beautiful white dress. The man offers her a ride and they strike up an interesting conversation. He drops the girl at her home. Next day, while driving for work he notices that the girl by accident has forgotten her sweater in his car. He drives towards her home to hand over the sweater. An old lady opens the door when he rings the bell. He narrates the incident which occurred last night and gives the sweater to the lady. The lady refuses to accept it, saying he is mistaken. The man is surprised and questions the lady again. He is dumbstruck and left in an unsettling situation when the lady says her daughter died in a car accident a couple of years ago.

The Red Wristband A doctor was working at a hospital, a hospital where the patients were tagged with coloured bands. Green: alive. Red: deceased. One night, the doctor was instructed to get a few supplies from the basement of the hospital, and so he headed to the lift. The lift doors opened and there was a patient inside, minding her own business. Patients were allowed to roam around the hospital to stretch, especially those who have stayed long. The rule was to be back in their rooms before ten. The doctor smiled at the patient before pressing the number for the basement. He found it unusual that the woman didn’t have a button already pressed. He wondered if she was heading to the basement too. The lift finally reached the floor where the doors opened. In the distance a man was limping towards the elevator, and in a panic the doctor slammed the elevator button to close. It finally did and the lift began to ascend back up, the doctor’s heart pounding. “Why did you do that? He was trying to use the lift.” The woman stated, annoyed. “Did you see his wrist?” The doctor asked, “It was red. He died last night. I would know because I did his surgery.” The woman lifted her wrist. He saw red. She smiled. “Like this one?”

Pierwszy dzień szkoły Każdy kocha pierwszy dzień w szkole, prawda? Nowy rok, nowa klasa, nowi przyjaciele. Ekscytujący dzień, wyposażony w funkcję i dreszczyk nieznanego, zanim wszystko zostanie pogrzebane przez szarą rzeczywistość i zabezpieczenie z niej smutki. Jednak ja lubię pierwszy dzień w szkole z innej przyczyny. Trzeba coś wyznać - posiadam posiadanie moc. Kiedy zobaczę na innych ludzi, zobaczę... aure. Kolorowa otoczka wokół każdego człowieka, której barwa jest wskazana, jak długo dana osoba będzie żyć. Wyniki moich rówieśników ma, szkodliwe poświatę - oznacza to, że są jeszcze straty czasu. Niestety, duża duża grupa z nich posiada żółto - odmiana aury. To oznaka, że ​​umrą w wypadku samochodowym, albo za wystąpienie awarii. powiedzą ludzie, że odeszli przed wystąpieniem. Prawdziwa zabawa zaczyna się, kiedy aura jest czerwona. zagrożenie każdego dnia, gdy widzę kogoś z taką otoczką, to ludzie, którzy stąpają po linii. Zostają zamordowani, albo zabiją siebie. To takie ekscytujące widzenie ich i wiedzą, że ich czas jest policzony. Zawsze przed następną nową szkołą, która pojawi się na miejscu bardzo wcześnie, będzie możliwa do poznania losów moich koleżanek i wyposażenia z klasy. Pierwszy chłopak, który wyszedł do klasy po mnie, emanował pulsującą czerwienią. Stłumiłem uśmieszek. Szkoda stary, szkoda! Ale następna osoba wchodząca do klasy posiada ten sam, bijący po wejściu, krwisty kolor. Po chwili wyszedł nasz nauczyciel. Zamknął drzwi na klucz, od środka. Jego aura była intensywnie zielona...

The Portraits (a.k.a. The Cabin in the Woods) Famous Creepypasta, Locations and Sites, Nature and the Outdoors / April 20, 2009 / 1 minute of reading There was a hunter in the woods, who, after a long day hunting, was in the middle of an immense forest. It was getting dark, and having lost his bearings, he decided to head in one direction until he was clear of the increasingly oppressive foliage... April 20, 2009 / Famous Creepypasta, Locations and Sites, Nature and the Outdoors / anonymously authored, cabins, camping, creepypasta classics, forests, hunters, mysteries, sites, twist endings, woods / 1 minute of reading Estimated reading time — < 1 minute There was a hunter in the woods, who, after a long day hunting, was in the middle of an immense forest. It was getting dark, and having lost his bearings, he decided to head in one direction until he was clear of the increasingly oppressive foliage. After what seemed like hours, he came across a cabin in a small clearing. Realizing how dark it had grown, he decided to see if he could stay there for the night. He approached and found the door ajar. Nobody was inside. The hunter flopped down on the single bed, deciding to explain himself to the owner in the morning. As he looked around, he was surprised to see the walls adorned by many portraits, all painted in incredible detail. Without exception, they appeared to be staring down at him, their features twisted into looks of hatred. Staring back, he grew increasingly uncomfortable. Making a concerted effort to ignore the many hateful faces, he turned to face the wall, and exhausted, he fell in to a restless sleep. Face down in an unfamiliar bed, he turned blinking in unexpected sunlight. Looking up, he discovered that the cabin had not portraits, only windows.

March 24, 2008 / Artifacts and Objects / anonymously authored / 1 minute of reading Estimated reading time — < 1 minute The assassin of William McKinley, 25th President of the United States, was electrocuted for his crime on October 29, 1901, at Auburn Prison in Auburn, New York. Among the personal effects found in his cell was a U.S. quarter stamped with the date 2218. The face in profile on said quarter was not George Washington, but rather a face which has yet to be identified.

A soldier called his parents from San Francisco. "Mom and Dad, I'm coming home, but I've a favor to ask. I have a friend I'd like to bring home." "Sure," they replied, "we'd love to meet him." "There's something you should know" the son continued, "he was hurt pretty badly in the fighting. He stepped on a land mine and lost an arm and a leg. He has nowhere else to go, and I want him to come live with us." "I'm sorry to hear that, son. Maybe we can help him find somewhere to live." "No, Mom and Dad, I want him to live with us." "Son," said the father, "you don't know what you're asking. Someone with such a handicap would be a terrible burden on us. We have our own lives to live, and we can't let something like this interfere with our lives. I think you should just come home and forget about this guy. He'll find a way to live on his own." At that point, the son hung up the phone. The parents heard nothing more from him. A few days later, they received a call from the San Francisco police. Their son had died after falling from a building they were told. The police believed it was suicide. The grief-stricken parents flew to San Francisco and were taken to the city morgue to identily the body of their son. They recognized him, but to their horror they also discovered something they didn't know, their son had only one arm and one leg.

Mary had a little lamb It's fleece was white as snow, And everywhere that Mary went That lamb was sure to go. He followed her to school one day That was against the rules, It made the children laugh and play But soon they felt like fools. Mary’s corpse was in a room And oh, what a scene! The kids saw her coated in blood And regretted being mean. Soon the police arrived Stepped over Mary’s heart, And tried to ask everyone How she was ripped apart. But when nobody knew The origins of all the gore, The police decided That it was time to go hardcore. And so everyone was dragged To detectors so they can’t tell a lie But everybody refused to tell Why Mary had to die. Suspects were jailed everywhere Tom, Barb, and Sam Because not a single person knew The murderer was the lamb. June 21, 2017 hellofinah

r/shortscarystories 23 hr. ago captain-howdy2323 Unknown Stranger Oh my! I can hear him moving around down stairs. Can I remember if I heard him come inside? Idk. I must have because I've armed myself. I cower away in this closet. But I can't remember any of that. I must be in shock. Oh my heart is racing. I hear him coming up the stairs. It won't be long until he finds me. I can already see what everyone will be saying. "Man found in house", "The bloodbath". He's right outside the room. I'm breathing so heavily. I'm sure he can hear me. Please, stop shaking. Please, nerves calm down. He's opening the door. This is it. Finally. I've been waiting in his closet for hours.

*+:｡.｡ . ○ 🍷 ♡.🪞.♡. 🍷 ○ . 　｡.｡:+*

People may like horror for many different reasons. Personification of non-human's, perspective, etc. There's some considerate guidelines to take in-to account. Of course, horror's meant to be scary, but not to frightening as to cause panic attack. Trigger warnings may give away the ending or some plot twist. Here are some tips: ~Profanity. Can say like 'oh dear' or something. ~Gore, avoiding unnecessary graphic detail. ~Animals. Can be something like 'the dog growls at presence of ghost' ~Self harm, etc. You can, however, have a character sacrifice oneself. ~Abuse (like exploitation, arranged marriage) although you can imply abduct, poison, etc. ~Stereotyping groups (portraying certain authorities, religions, cultures, etc. as disrespectful) You can use (with discretion) controversial topics (execution, foeticide, the double effect, etc.) lightly. You can mention potential topics (cannibal, baby death, poisons, apocalypse, etc.) in story insofar as it partains to the plot, but no glorifying trauma. You can have the narrator be the villain, victim, or bystander. Have fun writing, and heed your emotions!

Practice Makes Perfect by reddit user whiteddit "You're not even trying. Again!" My calloused hands dance across the music. A finger slips and the tune groans. "Your father would be ashamed. Again!" My blurred vision falls from the yellowed sheet music to the keys. I miss another note. "Faster. Again!" I stumble once more as the tempo increases. She rises from the bench. "Absolutely worthless. You're done for today." I hang my head in shame. I know what's coming. The floorboards creak as Mother returns from the kitchen. I wince. It's hard enough to play with three fingers. It'll be even harder with two.

The Answers As I lived my life, I had always pondered on the mysteries of the universe. I wondered what it all meant, why we were all here, and what lie beyond. That was the reason I became a scientist. I slaved over my work trying to unlock the unknown whole of creation. Always fighting a never ending battle to seek answers for life's greatest questions. Then, when my life came to an end from an untimely accident, I found myself standing on the precipice to eternity. In the seemingly infinite chasm of darkness, a voice called out a question to me... "Shall all of the answers be revealed to you, or will you swim the sea of creation in unknowing bliss?" "Please... Show me the answers I have tirelessly searched for and still seek!" "Very well..." A sudden emergence of a blinding light bathed me, and I was brought into the entirety of knowledge kicking and screaming. That was almost two years ago... Today I lay in my playpen attempting my last ditch efforts at telling my new Mom and Dad what I know, but all they see, and all they've seen for months, is a child at play, talking gibberish. My urgency grows and the fear begins to consume my mind as I realize... the better I get at communicating with them, the more of what I know fades from my memory.

A White Lie I'm the last one here. Those things have killed everyone else. Those things with the huge wings, with the beady eyes, with the sharp claws....every time I close my eyes see my coworkers being ripped apart. A few of us made it to the building here, but even here we aren't safe. I watched them get picked off one by one, screaming as they fought against death. I tried to stop it I swear I did I tried... Now I'm running through the building to the main power center. With no one else to ask, I'm tasked with pressing one of these buttons. Either will press the red button, or the green button. Supposedly, one button will turn the power doors back on, protecting us from whatever that shrieking, hungry, and angry...thing is outside. That's the red button. The other button is green and opens the opposite side power door, and I can only imagine what might be out there. Why had I agreed to come and research in this lab? I think as I run, hearing the screeches behind me. Oh .... Why did I lie on my application? Why didn't I admit I was color blind?

avoid writing about- ~animals ~unnecessary detail ~certain groups -in such stories

r/TwoSentenceHorror 4 days ago chacde3 Halfway into our trip, the GPS arrival time switched from “Midnight” to “Never.” I was so distracted trying to figure out what it meant, I did not notice the truck veering into my lane.

⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜ ⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜ ⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜

I Begged You “Please, I am literally begging you,” I warn, but the executioner only sighs and gives me a truly sorrowful look... The chaplain sits beside me. “Once he pushes the button, death will come soon after,” he explains, even though I have heard it so many times before already. “Any final words?” “Just, again, I tell you, begging you not to do this,” I say. clean conscience. That’s the thing, though; I haven’t murdered anyone. It’s been this way my The chaplain nods sadly, sorrowful that I do not face my executioner with a clean conscience. That’s the thing, though. I haven’t murdered anyone. It’s been this way my entire life. I don’t know why, but whenever I would accidentally hurt myself others near me would receive the wound. I once got a paper cut in class that caused the three people around me to bleed from their fingers. In high school, I was in a car accident, and even though my side of the car was hit, my girlfriend developed a broken leg. I’m always very careful. I take care of myself, trying to stay in the very best of health. But when I was mugged by that trio and he shot me in the face, theirs exploded, not mine. And when the cops came, they found me kneeling by their bodies, trying to figure out what to do and stupidly holding their gun. Around thirty seconds after the execution started, I see both the executioner and chaplain fall to the floor with a hard thump. “I begged you,” I repeat sadly. —stellarpath

⦻

r/TwoSentenceHorror 5 yr. ago spenceyfresh As death came for him, his life flashed before his eyes. He remembered everything his birth, his trip home and the blank look in his mothers eyes as she forcefully held him under the bathtub's water.

https://www.creepypasta.com/ya-te-veo/

SherlockHolmesz 25 apr 2023 On average, you walk past 36 murderers in your lifetime. ~iFunny

Digital_F1aw POV: You were a respected scientist who made an uncanny discovery in the Siberian permafrost. You tried to warn them, but no one listened. As the rumbling footsteps creep closer and closer, you can't help but laugh. 5 jul

r/TwoSentenceHorror 5 yr. ago netflixandskill my son was reported missing last week they found him but it's not my son

I thought telling the genie “I want to live forever” But the universe went dark 3 billion years ago by douggold11

The End From Redditor u/MrCookieCutter: For the first time in recorded history, no humans died today. Granted, that's because the last one died yesterday.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 4 days ago CalebVanPoneisen While tidying up my girlfriend’s apartment I found a purple diary labelled “Boyfriends Whom Dare to Look”. Unable to resist the temptation my heart raced, at the sight of names and dates marked with red but before I could fully process it's meaning, a voice be- hind me chuckled “It’s time to break up,” as a sharp object pierced my back.

“I woke up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. As I stood in- front of the mirror, there was no one staring back at me.” -Lucas Smelser

“I woke up in a joyful mood and went to my mirror with a smile on my face; only, my reflection wasn’t smiling back at me.” -Aubrey Lichtfield

r/TwoSentenceHorror 4 days ago kaoru-aeli They pointed at me, laughing and calling me "four-eyes". They weren't laughing after I decided to revealed 82 more.

no- ~pets ~unnecessary detail ~crims -in said stories

avoid- ~losing animals ~excessive detail ~inaccurate portrayal of certain people ~making fun of groups

My Fear of Water pazuzuscrypt: I’ve always had a terrible fear of being submerged completely in water. Not that I can’t swim or anything. My dad made me learn; he said I almost drowned when I was really young. I was afraid of it because, for as long as I can remember, whenever I am under water and look up at the surface I see a woman reaching down to me with a warm smile with glowing golden hair and dark blue eyes. Even if its just in a bathtub. It always happened it was just normal for me, but i never got used to it. It was unnerving, but also soothing at the same time. She always made me feel like it was okay. I still avoided it, though, because I was just a kid and it was really freaky. I never told my dad about it as a kid, but I did ask him about my mom. He never wanted to talk about her. Sometimes he even got mad at me for trying too hard to bring it up. It was only recently that I described this apparition to him. He nearly drove into a telephone pole; obviously he knew something. I asked him again, about my mom. He still wouldn't say much, except that she died when I was very young, and that she loved me very much. He also admitted that her hair and eyes were those colors, just like mine. So I did some research on my own, looking up her name for myself on my birth certificate and trying to find any references I could any news clips about a boy nearly drowning, any thing. I mostly wanted a picture, something I could match to my guardian angel. Today, buried in our town library, I found it. WINCHESTER: Withie, 28, drowned yesterday evening after climbing a razerwire fence and fleeing to a nearby resevoir. A funeral is scheduled by her family for the 25th. She was institutionalized just six months ago, after being found “not guilty” of attempted murder on grounds of insanity. Her husband Withie had acted quickly enough to rescue their infant child when she was found trying to drown him in a bathtub. Monday, December 14th, 2015 | via: pazuzuscrypt | source: pazuzuscrypt

✶ 🩸 🏹 ❤️ / ⚔️ 🩸 ⚔️ / ❤️ 🏹 🩸 ✶

Fatherly Advice She broke it off with me today. She said something about how we just weren’t meant to be and that we could be friends. They always say that. At first I was hurt. Then I was angry. How could she do this to me after everything I’ve done for her? Not meant to be? I started to get really mad! But then I remembered the advice my father gave me long ago after my first big heartbreak. “Son, some-times a woman just doesn’t want to give you her heart, and that’s OK, because you can always cut it out of her chest...” 8 YEARS AGO

‘Crying isn’t going to help’ by HonestRage She's gone, all because of him. Dead. He killed my wife. She'd still be here, if it's not for him. If only he could speak with reason; I could’ve let him live long enough to explain. But that was obviously not going to happen. After all, he was born just a few minutes ago...

Avoid~ -profanity -animal loss -stereotyping -ignorance

⠀⣠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⠀ ⣼⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣻⣿⣟⡿⠿⢯⡿⠿⢿⣽⣿⣿⣻⣿⢿⣻⣿⣿⢿⣿⣧ ⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⠿⠛⠉⠀⠀⢀⣴⣷⣀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⡀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣽⣿⡿⣟⣿ ⣿⣿⡿⣷⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⣠⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⡀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣅⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠘⣿⣷⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣽⡟⠀⢠⣧⡀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⡿⠻⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⢹⣿⣿⣻ ⣿⣿⣿⡇⠰⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⡗⢸⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣾⣧⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣦⣾⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠈⠻⠃⠀⣸⣿⣿⣽ ⣿⣿⡿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⢙⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠈⠿⠋⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⡟⠋⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣟⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣀⠀⠀⠈⠻⡟⠋⠀⠀⣀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿ ⢻⣿⣿⢿⣻⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣷⣿⣿⣟⡏ ⠀⠙⠿⢿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣷⣿⢿⣿⢿⣿⡿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣟⣯⣷⣿⣿⣿⣻⠯⠋⠀

🍷 ⋆ 🍓 ❣ ◕ ❣ 🍓 ⋆ 🍷

💘🥹🥹🥹💘

🔴🔴🔴🔴⚪⚪⚪⚫⚪⚪⚪🔴🔴🔴🔴 🔴🔴🔴⚪⚪⚪⚫⚫⚫⚪⚪⚪🔴🔴🔴 🔴🔴⚪⚪⚪⚫⚫⚫⚪⚪⚪⚪⚪🔴🔴 🔴⚪⚪⚪⚫⚫⚫⚪⚪⚪⚫⚪⚪⚪🔴 ⚪⚪⚪⚫⚫⚫⚪⚪⚪⚫⚫⚫⚪⚪⚪ ⚪⚪⚪⚪⚫⚫⚫⚪⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚪⚪ ⚪⚫⚪⚪⚪⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚪⚫⚫⚫⚪ ⚫⚫⚫⚪⚪⚪⚫⚫⚫⚪⚪⚪⚫⚫⚫ ⚪⚫⚫⚫⚪⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚪⚪⚪⚫⚪ ⚪⚪⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚪⚫⚫⚫⚪⚪⚪⚪ ⚪⚪⚪⚫⚫⚫⚪⚪⚪⚫⚫⚫⚪⚪⚪ 🔴⚪⚪⚪⚫⚪⚪⚪⚫⚫⚫⚪⚪⚪🔴 🔴🔴⚪⚪⚪⚪⚪⚫⚫⚫⚪⚪⚪🔴🔴 🔴🔴🔴⚪⚪⚪⚫⚫⚫⚪⚪⚪🔴🔴🔴

r/TwoSentenceHorror 12 hr. ago HoardofAngryQuokkas It's happening again - I must wash away all this blood; silently, I creep out to the kitchen like I've been doing for the past three years, spending hours in the moonlight scrubbing out every speck of evidence. I know my dad and brothers think I'm some late bloomer, but I just don't want to freeze to death out in the menstrual hut like mum did.

❣️💉 V A M P Y R 💉❣️

🍒🍓🍄🍒🥀❤️🍷💋

🔴 - 🔪 - 🔴 🔪 - 😈 - 🔪 🔴 - 🔪 - 🔴

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The Wrong Room April 1, 2014 You get back to your apartment after a long day's work and you want to get inside and rest. You were about to pull out your keys and unlock the door, but you notice it's open ... The Wrong Room April 1, 2014 / Dark Comedy, Humor, and Parodies, Deaths, Murders, and Disappearances / parodies / 2 minutes of reading Estimated reading time — < 1 minute You get back to your apartment after a long day’s work and you want to get inside and rest. You were about to pull out your keys and unlock the door, but you notice it’s open. Turning the doorknob and stepping inside, You notice something different. You stand in the doorway trying to figure it out. then it hits you. this isn’t your room. As you turn and leave, something catches your eye. There is a man hunched over a dish of flesh, eating it with his bare hands, tearing into it as a wild animal would with prey. Red dripped down the side of his mouth, and the smell that emanated from it was sickening. You were paralysed by the sight. Unconsciously, you start cover your nose and mouth. This accidentally bumps your elbow against the doorway. You freeze. He stopped eating there was something wrong. Then he looked up and started searching for the source of the noise. His eyes scanned the room till they found you. Your legs start moving on their own, and you find yourself running, running away from that room, and the horrors within it. ~~~ The man silently stands up, locks the door, sits back down, grabs another slice of pizza, and mutters quietly to himself: “Crazy vegans”. Credit To – Walrus King

An Egg September 1, 2012 It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a quick passing. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail ... An Egg Strange and Unexplained / 5 minutes of reading Estimated reading time — 4 minutes It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. You’re so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me. And that’s when you met me. “What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?” “You passed,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point mincing words. “There was a…a truck and it was skidding…” “Yup.” I said “I… I’m gone?” “Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone passes.” I said. You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?” “More or less,” I said. “Are you god?” You asked. “Yup.” I replied. “I’m God.” “My kids… my wife,” you said. “What about them?” “Will they be alright?” “That what I like to see,” I said. “You just passed and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.” You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like a God. Some vague authority figure. “Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.” “Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to the afterlife or something?” “Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.” You followed along as we strolled in the void. “Where are we going?” “Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.” “So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.” “Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.” I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part or yourself into the vessel and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.” “You’ve been a human for the last 34 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we stay out here for longer, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point doing that between each life.” “How many times have I been reincarnated, then?” “Oh, lots. Lots and lots. And into lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 A.D.” “Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?” “Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.” You pondered. “But wait. If i get reincarnated to other places in time, could I have interacted with myself at some point?” “Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own timespan you don’t even know it’s happening.” I looked in your eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.” “You mean mankind? You want us to mature?” “No. just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature, and become a larger and greater intellect” “Just me? What about everyone else?” “There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you, and me.” You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…” “All you. Different incarnations of you.” “Wait. I’m everyone!?” “Now you’re getting it.” “I’m every human who ever lived?” “Or whom will ever live, yes.” “I’m Abraham Lincoln?” “And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too.” I added. “I’m a criminal?” you said, appalled. “And you’re the victims, too.” “I’m a leader?” “And you’re everyone who followed you.” You fell silent. “Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “You were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.” “Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?” “Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.” “Whoa.” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?” “No. Not yet. You’re as a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.” “So the whole universe,” you said. “It’s just…” “An egg of sorts.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.” And with that, I sent you on your way. Credit: Andy Weir

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Leon Czolgosz March 24, 2008 / Artifacts and Objects / anonymously authored / 1 minute of reading Estimated reading time — < 1 minute Leon Czolgosz, the assassin of William McKinley (the 25th President of the United States) was electrocuted for his crime on October 29, 1901, at Auburn Prison in Auburn, New York. Among the personal effects found in his cell was a U.S. quarter stamped with the date 2218. The face in profile on said quarter was not George Washington, but rather a face which has yet to be identified.

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America’s Top 5 Spooky Spots for Horror Enthusiasts February 17, 2024 / Strange and Unexplained / 4 minutes of reading Estimated reading time — 3 minutes How many times have you tried to find a place in the US that will raise your hair up and fill you with adrenaline? If you’re the kind of person who loves to take part in horror adventures, then you should know that America is full of spooky places, like dark cemeteries, abandoned mansions, and dark towns. The only thing you’ve left to do to satisfy your horror cravings is to choose the most suitable one for your needs and plan your next trip. The 5 spooky places in America that we’re about to list and discuss will indeed fascinate every horror enthusiast. Table of Contents 1. Bonaventure Cemetery 2. Lemp Mansion 3. Bally’s Resort and Casino 4. Gettysburg National Military Park 5. Clinton Road Final Thoughts 1. Bonaventure Cemetery At first glance, you might think that Bonaventure is just another cemetery that might attract horror lovers at times. But trust us, you actually need to prepare yourself before you see the centuries-old tombstones that surround this historic site in Savannah, Georgia. Bonaventure Cemetery is an ancient, historic district that was once a privately owned cemetery. Even though this site attracts tourists with its beautiful nature and architecture, to this day, multiple people have reported unusual occurrences, such as the sounds of children and barking dogs, even when no one is around. As visitors claim, you should definitely consider going around the graves of Gracie Watson or Kehoe House – children who died in the 19th century but whose ghosts never left the Bonaventure Cemetery. 2. Lemp Mansion Besides cemeteries and battlefields, you can find numerous mansions and old houses in America that are considered haunted. Lemp Mansion in St. Louis, MO, is one of those mansions that still fascinates visitors with its eerie atmosphere. The main reason why this house is considered haunted is the history behind it – the tragic death of the Lemp family over 60 years ago. Almost a century ago, Lemps were important figures in the brewing industry. In the 1920s, the business began to decline. Not surprisingly for that period, this downturn made a few family members commit suicide. The first one among them was William Lemp who was followed by his son Billy. His brother, Charles, did the same later, along with a 13-year-old physically and mentally disabled brother. Today, Lemp Mansion is an inn and a restaurant and its visitors sometimes encounter the spirits of these 4 dead members of the Lemp family. 3. Bally’s Resort and Casino If someone asks you to name some of the most popular attractions in Las Vegas, chances are that you’ll name Bally’s Resort and Casino if you’ve ever gambled in this building. Everyone knows that Las Vegas is full of casinos and entertainment venues. But it turns out that horror enthusiasts either take pleasure in playing thrilling real casino games online or gamble at physical casinos that have a reputation for being haunted. Bally’s Resort and Casino is one of those haunted places in America. This casino was initially known as MGM Grand in the 1970s and attracted wealthy people from all over the US. But this was before a terrible incident happened – in 1980, faulty wiring started a fire in the building, which resulted in the deaths of 80 individuals. Today, visitors to this casino claim that from time to time they hear spooky noises and notice the spirits of the people who died on that day. That’s why Bally’s Resort and Casino is considered haunted. 4. Gettysburg National Military Park Considering the number of people who died at the Battle of Gettysburg during the American Civil War, it’s not really surprising that the National Military Park of Gettysburg is said to be haunted by the ghosts of soldiers. As a matter of fact, the Gettysburg National Military Park consists of numerous spots where paranormal activities occasionally take place. For example, there, you might encounter three disembodied heads. These hands belong to Confederate soldiers who died tragically on the battlefield. But other than these figures, sometimes you can even hear gunfire, shouts, and even the cries of wounded men. 5. Clinton Road One more scary place in America that usually fascinates horror lovers of various preferences is Clinton Road in West Milford, New Jersey. It’s a 10-mile-long road that isn’t anything special at first glance. However, the legend says that if you decide to race on this road, chances are that you won’t escape evil spirits and phantom headlights. Even more exciting about this haunted place is the rumor that after throwing a coin into the bridge at midnight, someone will throw this coin back at you. It’s hard to decide whether it’s true or not, but if you dare to explore this place, throwing a coin is worth it. Just remember to do it exactly at midnight. Final Thoughts It wasn’t easy for us to choose only 5 haunted spots for horror enthusiasts who plan their ghost-haunting trip in America. But at least, now you have a starting point for your adventure. Just keep in mind that although you might consider yourself brave enough to explore these eerie locations, we don’t recommend going to those spooky places alone. Who knows, maybe those ghosts are actually waiting for a brave person who can become a part of their company.

🇺🇸 https://s1.sos.mo.gov/records/archives/archivesdb/BirthDeath/Default.aspx#searchDB 🇺🇸

‘A Message From Your Personal Demons’ By MrGarm “I am the worst of your demons, but you see me as a friend.” Hello, my dear. You do not know who I am, but I know you. I am one of the three demons that were assigned to you at birth. You see, some people in this world are destined for greatness, destined to live happy, fulfilling lives. You, I am afraid, are not one of those people, and it is our job to make sure of that. Who are we? Oh yes, of course, how rude of me. Allow me to introduce us: Shame is my younger brother, the demon on your left shoulder. Shame tells you that you’re a freak; that those thoughts you have are not normal; that you will never fit in. Shame whispered into your ear when your mother found you playing with yourself as a child. Shame is the one who makes you hate yourself. Fear sits on your right shoulder. He is my older brother, as old as life itself. Fear fills every dark corner with monsters, and turns every stranger on a dark street into a murderer. Fear stops you from telling your crush how you feel. He tells you it is better not to try than to let people see you fail. Fear makes you build your prison. Who am I, then? I am the worst of your demons, but you see me as a friend. You turn to me when you have nothing else because I live in your heart. I am the one who forces you to endure. The one who prolongs your torment. Sincerely, Hope.

Horror Confessions @Horror_Fessions "When I was 8 I would hear what seemed like a younger girl calling for me in my back yard, my mom decided to ask around to see if any young boys had the same name as I did, turns out 8 years prior, a girl and her brother with the same name as I were murdered in a courtyard behind our house."

The Growths May 12, 2008 / Madness, Paranoia, and Mental Illness / anonymously authored / 2 minutes of reading Estimated reading time — 2 minutes I’d had them ever since I was a kid. I can remember being incredibly self-conscious about them, hiding them in my pockets under books and bags. The kids at school never said anything to my face, but I knew they were laughing behind my back. I remember asking my parents to take me to the doctor, to get them checked out. The growths on my hands seemed to be the elephant in the room back then, since they’d just say I was fine and change the subject. But I knew better. I had tried to remove them as a child, but without avail; trying to get them off was always a lost cause because I couldn’t continue once the pain kicked in. But today was different. It’s amazing how numb you can get with a couple of tourniquettes and a bottle of drink. I was originally planning to use sharps, but figured that trying to slice through the tough growths would be too arduous in my state. I opted for the slightly more technological plan B. I had to hurry though. I was already pretty light-headed and was starting to feel dizzy. My hands and forearms, nearly blue, couldn’t wait much longer either. The whirring of the blender helped to put me in a sort of trance–ready to do what I had wanted to do since I first looked down at my strange formations. I shoved my left hand in first. The immediate sensation of sharp blades slicing through was jarring, but I was surprised at how well the alcohol was working–I expected it to hurt more. I could hear the sharp metal churning and cutting, working perfectly as planned. I pressed my hand down harder. All those bad memories, all of the embarrassment–all of those horrible things were now nothing more... Breaking from the feelings of ecstasy, I pulled out before the blades hit knuckle. I smiled, taking a good look at my new hand. As for the growths–well, five down, and five to go!

My Sister's Sculpture My Mother told me about it when I was around 6 years old. She told me I wasn't an only child, I was one of two little girls. You see, she told me that when I was first born along with my twin sister, she died the evening she was born. She never told me why or how she died.or when they had the funeral for her. She told me about my Father going into a deep sense of mourning, and so to let us never forget my little sister my Father made a sculpture ofher. She was painted to every last detail. Her cute blue eyes to the little dimples in her cheeks. My Father would copy me as a reference since we were twins, and as I grew up I thought the sculpture was of me, but now that my Mother cleared this all up I felt more close to the sculpture than I did before. It wasn't long until I noticed that every year; on my birthday my Father would replace the sculpture and now the sculpture looked the same age as me, as if the sculpture would follow me as l aged. My Father continued to do this well into my teenage years, capturing her older and more mature features and the change in her face. On my 18th birthday I realised I could not sleep. I was wondering how my Father made the sculpture so detailed to me so late into the night. Perhaps he took a photo of me and paints it in every detail? I was curious. So I desided to creep my way downstairs to see if could catch my Father making the sculpture, and as l peeked my head around the kitchen door I felt all the colour of my face drain. There, on the Kitchen table my Father was injecting the “sculpture” with a liquid as he whispered "You will always be my little sculpture." as I watched the “sculpture's” hands twitch.

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⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣰⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣛⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣶⠿⠿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⣿⣿⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣤⣤⡶⠶⠾⠛⠛⠛⠛⠻⠟⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠚⡽⣿⣿⣿⣦⣄⣀⢀⣀⣠⣴⡶⠶⠟⠛⠛⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣻⢯⣟⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⣻⢿⣿⣿⣟⡛⠟⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣍⣷⡦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣟⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⢧⡛⡿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣶⣾⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠹⢷⡹⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠈⣹⣿⠟⠛⣿⣿⠋⣴⣤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢃⠻⣿⣿⣿⣷⠾⢷⣦⣤⣤⣀⣠⣤⣾⣿⣿⡿⠧⡴⠿⠛⠃⠀⣰⣿⢣⣽⡟⠁⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⡼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠻⣿⣿⣷⠸⣿⣿⣇⠈⠻⣿⣿⣆⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣼⣿⢿⣿⣄⠀⠉⠹⡿⠛⠛⠛⠷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣾⡟⡭⣿⡿⠁⣸⡇⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣠⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⢠⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⢿⣿⣿⣆⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠙⠻⣿⣿⣤⣄⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣴⣶⣿⢟⠻⣼⣿⣿⢃⣼⣿⡇⠀⢠⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⣼⡏⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣄⠈⢳⣄⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⡿⣿⢿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠋⣛⢥⣾⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⢿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⠉⠉⠙⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠈⢿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣷⣷⣾⣴⣯⣿⣾⣷⣾⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠘⠃⢸⣿⢿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡿⠿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣆⣀⢀⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠶⠺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⣿⡟⢰⣿⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⠒⠋⠉⠉⠛⠿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢃⠈⢿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡇⠀⢸⡀⠀⢸⣦⢰⡈⡆⠈⡟⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣇⣀⢰⣿⣿⣄⢸⣿⣿⣟⣷⠀⣷⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡸⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⣿⡿⡏⢻⠁⢱⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣧⠻⣿⠛⠿⠈⠀⠀⠈⠀⣇⠈⣷⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣆⠀⣹⣦⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣀⣿⠀⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣀⣿⣿⣆⠘⡷⠢⢤⡴⠖⢉⡏⢹⢹⡗⠻⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⢹⡿⣦⡼⡔⠊⠀⢠⣾⠀⡧⠘⡇⠀⠀⠘⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⣿⠟⢻⣾⠓⠛⡇⢳⠄⢠⠟⡇⢠⡁⢠⠃⢀⠀⠀⣽⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⠖⠒⠛⢦⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡀⠁⢴⢻⠈⣆⡀⣣⣸⡆⠀⠀⢹⣌⣷⡧⢼⣿⡀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢧⠀⠘⡀⡆⢉⣿⣿⡏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠁⠀⠚⠛⡄⢸⠀⠀⢀⣠⠔⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡀⠀⢹⡃⡾⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⣸⠷⢒⠟⠁⠀⠀⢰⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡎⠀ ⠀⢀⡴⠒⠒⠲⠤⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⠀⠀⠳⣇⠀⠀⠀⣀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠒⠚⢿⠏⢠⠔⠁⠀⠀⠀⢠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁⠀ ⢠⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠒⠦⢄⣸⡀⠀⠀⠈⣖⢲⡚⠁⠀⠀⠒⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⢸⡗⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀ ⢸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠒⢤⣀⣸⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡏⠀⠀ ⠀⠱⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠢⣀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡀⠀⢀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠣⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⠤⠼⡟⡅⠀⠙⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡜⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣄⣸⣧⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠘⢿⣠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠉⢦⣀⣀⣰⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢃⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠈⠛⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠢⣀⠀⠀⢀⠆⠀⠑⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣧⣀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⠀⠀⠀⣀⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢳⣄⣀⣀⡠⠔⠋⠀⠀⠉⠉⠋⢉⡏⠙⣄⠀⣰⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠸⣧⠙⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢷⡀⠹⣿⠉⣯⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢳⣾⡟⢳⡿⠀⣵⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢷⣄⢙⣿⣏⣩⠍⠿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⡿⠿⢿⠧⣠⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣸⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠥⠤⠐⠚⠀⣸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠯⠵⢶⠭⠽⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧⣀⢀⣀⡠⢔⡯⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠓⠒⠒⠒⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡤⣶⠐⢾⣿⡿⢿⠿⡿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣇⢿⣷⣶⣶⣄⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠼⠋⠁⠈⠙⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⡿⢻⣿⣿⣿⠏⢿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣶⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡿⣿⣿⠏⣰⡆⣿⣿⡿⢸⣄⢻⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⣉⣤⠹⠃⣼⣿⣷⠘⡿⠃⣿⣿⣦⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢟⣯⣭⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣶⡇⣿⣿⡿⢠⣴⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣭⣝⡻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣋⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡿⡍⣿⣿⣿⡇⢹⣿⢃⣿⣿⣇⢻⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣮⣙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀ ⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⢋⣵⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣋⣴⡇⢾⣿⡿⢱⡈⠃⢸⣿⣿⣿⠈⢿⡿⢡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣮⡹⢿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⡟⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⢿⣿⣿⡧⢸⡿⢡⣿⣷⣿⡘⣿⣿⣿⢷⡌⢃⣿⡆⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡎⢻⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⣦⠻⣿⣿⠟⣡⣾⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⢸⣿⣿⠇⣈⣰⢸⣿⣿⣿⡇⢻⣿⡿⢸⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢇⣿⣌⠿⣿⣿⠏⣴⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣷⣌⣥⣾⣿⣿⡇⢿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠿⠟⣻⣼⣿⡿⣼⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⠇⡌⢿⢃⡸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⡻⢿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠻⣿⣿⣿⡿⣸⣿⣿⣷⣮⣡⣾⣿⢸⣿⣿⣷⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⡷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡘⣿⡿⣡⣾⡸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣦⣤⣭⣶⣾⣿⡏⢹⡿⢱⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⠏⢸⣿⣄⣾⣇⢻⣿⣿⠋⣿⣿⣶⣶⡇⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢁⣷⣜⢿⣿⢃⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢹⣿⣿⣯⠀ ⠀⢿⣿⣿⣇⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣉⣴⣿⣿⣧⢻⣿⣿⣿⢋⡝⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣸⡀⣡⠸⣿⣿⣿⣇⠸⡟⡤⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⢻⡏⣼⢻⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢣⡙⣿⣿⣿⠃⣾⣿⣿⣦⣡⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⣹⣿⣿⣯⠀ ⠀⢿⣿⣿⣟⡄⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⢿⡿⢃⣼⣧⠸⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢣⣿⣿⣿⡸⣿⣿⣿⢻⣄⣠⣧⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣄⣸⣿⡄⢻⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⠇⣿⣿⡜⣿⡟⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢸⣻⣿⣿⡿⠀ ⠀⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣵⣿⣿⣿⣇⢻⡿⣋⣶⡍⢿⣿⣿⡿⣿⡿⢁⣾⣿⣿⣿⡇⢿⣿⠃⢸⣿⣿⣿⡜⣿⣿⣿⡟⢸⣿⣿⣿⣷⢀⢻⣿⡗⣿⣿⣿⡟⣰⣧⡙⢿⡟⣸⣿⣿⣿⣦⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⡟⠀⣿⢼⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⢿⣿⣿⡿⣿⠀⠈⠿⢟⡄⣦⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⣴⣿⣿⣿⣎⢿⡟⣡⠟⣡⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⡜⢃⣾⢸⣿⣿⣿⣇⠹⣿⣿⠃⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣧⡙⠧⣌⠻⡟⣱⣿⣿⣿⣦⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣴⢉⡻⠟⠀⠀⣿⢺⣿⣿⣷⠀ ⠀⣻⣿⣿⣇⣿⠀⠀⢰⣿⡧⣿⣧⠹⣿⣿⣿⡿⢋⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣾⣿⢸⣿⣇⢻⣿⣿⡇⣼⣿⣿⣿⡆⣿⣿⣿⡟⣤⠹⢃⣦⠹⣿⣿⣿⡏⢸⣿⣿⡆⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⡙⣿⣿⣿⣿⢋⣾⣿⣸⣿⡆⠀⠀⣿⢹⣿⣿⣯⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⡷⣿⣿⡇⠘⠻⢟⣵⢸⣷⡙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⡄⢿⡿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠘⣿⣿⠃⣿⣷⣾⣿⡆⢹⣿⡿⢠⡼⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢫⣾⡇⣮⡻⠟⠁⢸⣿⣿⢽⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⢸⣿⣿⣟⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⠃⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣼⣿⢿⣿⣷⠈⢿⡿⢋⣍⣮⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⡷⡘⢁⡸⣿⣿⣿⣿⢁⣷⠸⠏⡀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⡄⠛⢡⣿⣧⢸⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣴⢩⡙⢿⡿⢁⣿⣿⡇⣿⡧⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⢺⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⢸⣿⣿⡿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⡿⢸⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣻⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠄⠀⢰⣿⠤⣿⣧⠻⣿⣿⣿⠟⡻⣿⢼⣿⡟⣰⣿⣾⣧⠹⣿⣿⢃⣾⣿⣷⣼⣇⢻⣿⣿⡿⢹⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⡶⣿⡇⡿⢟⢻⣿⣿⣿⠟⣾⣿⢸⣿⡎⠀⠠⣿⣿⡇⣿⣟⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⢹⣿⡆⠀⠀⣿⡆⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⠇⣾⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⢿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⢻⣿⣾⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⡘⣿⣿⡇⠘⠿⢫⣾⣿⣎⢹⡟⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⢠⡙⢁⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠄⢻⡿⢃⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣜⠋⣵⣿⣷⣝⠿⠃⢸⣿⣿⢼⣿⡇⠀⠠⣿⣿⡇⣿⣏⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣷⠸⣿⣿⠀ ⢸⣿⠏⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣻⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⢘⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣼⠸⣿⣿⣿⡟⣸⣿⣿⣆⢻⣿⣿⣿⡿⢸⣦⣡⣾⡌⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢱⣿⡀⠀⠀⠈⠈⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⢺⣿⡇⠀⠐⣿⣿⡇⣿⡧⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⢸⣿⠇⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠻⣿⡀ ⠜⢩⡖⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣽⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣽⣿⢿⣿⣿⠁⠀⢸⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣇⢹⣿⣿⢁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⢿⣿⣿⢃⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠘⣿⣿⣿⠇⢺⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠸⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⣿⣯⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⢸⣿⡃⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⣷⡌⠣ ⠀⣾⡟⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⢾⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⢼⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⢸⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡄⢻⠏⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠹⢃⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠂⣜⢿⠟⣼⡙⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠰⣿⡇⠀⢀⣿⣿⡇⣿⡇⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⢸⣿⡅⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣏⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣻⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⢺⣿⢿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⢩⣦⣴⡘⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣰⣷⣿⡇⢻⣿⣿⣿⡿⢸⣿⣦⣾⣿⣷⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠐⣿⡇⠀⠠⣿⣿⡇⣿⡇⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⢸⣿⠆⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⡧⢸⣿⡟⠀⠀⢸⣿⣽⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣻⣿⣻⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢇⣾⣿⣿⣷⡘⣿⣿⠟⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣿⣿⣿⠃⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⡇⠀⠐⣿⣿⡇⣿⣏⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⢸⣿⡃⠀⠀⢻⣿⡇⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⡗⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢾⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⣹⣿⢼⣿⡟⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢏⡾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢬⢋⣴⣧⡙⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠹⢃⣾⡈⣿⣿⣿⡿⣼⣌⠿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⢻⣿⡇⣿⡇⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⢸⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⣿⣯⠀ ⠀⣿⣏⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣏⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣹⣿⢸⣿⠃⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣷⡘⣿⣿⣿⡏⢼⣿⣿⣿⡇⠈⠛⠃⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣷⡘⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⠈⣿⡇⠀⠀⠘⣿⡇⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢸⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⣿⣟⠀ ⠀⣿⣧⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣎⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣽⣿⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣷⡌⢿⡿⢠⠸⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣷⡘⠁⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠐⣿⡇⣿⣏⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢸⣿⡃⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⣿⡿⠀ ⠀⣿⡧⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡎⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢾⣿⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⢗⣦⣡⣿⠀⢹⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡸⣿⣿⣿⠇⣶⠘⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠠⣿⡇⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢸⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⣿⣟⠀ ⠀⣿⡗⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣻⣿⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⣿⣯⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡟⠸⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠉⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣧⠹⣿⡟⣸⣿⣧⡸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢸⣿⠆⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⣿⣯⠀ ⠀⣿⡟⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣽⣿⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⣿⡷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡿⢁⣧⡙⢿⠁⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣇⠘⣀⢿⣿⣿⣷⡝⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⣿⡧⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢸⣿⠆⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⣿⡷⠀ ⠀⣿⣏⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠇⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣽⣿⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⣿⣟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢼⢃⣾⡿⢟⣡⣴⣾⣿⣿⢻⣮⡝⠁⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣠⣿⣌⢻⣿⣿⣿⢏⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠐⣿⡇⠀⠀⢀⣿⡇⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢸⣿⡃⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⣿⣏⠀ ⠀⣿⣏⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢾⣿⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⣿⣯⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⣫⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠘⣿⡇⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⣿⡟⣽⣿⣿⣦⠙⣿⣋⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⣿⣗⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢸⣿⡃⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⣻⡧⠀ ⠀⣿⣏⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠁⢀⣿⢳⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠻⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⢠⠠⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⣿⡷⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢸⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⣻⡗⠀ ⠀⣿⣏⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡃⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣻⣿⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣧⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣶⢗⣮⡝⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⣠⣴⣷⣭⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⢇⣾⣷⡘⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣼⣿⡇⠀⠀⠠⣿⡇⣿⣏⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢸⣿⠆⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⣽⣏⠀ ⠀⣿⣏⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡅⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣽⣿⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⢸⣿⢱⣿⡿⠋⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣇⣾⣿⣿⣿⣮⣁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠐⣿⡇⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⢸⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⢾⡧⠀ ⠀⣿⣯⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣯⣿⣿⡸⣿⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⡏⣿⡿⣏⡛⣿⣏⣿⣷⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠠⣿⡇⣿⡷⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢸⣿⡃⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⢾⡗⠀ ⠀⣿⣧⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡅⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢾⣿⢸⣿⠄⠀⠀⠸⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡟⠙⠓⠛⣀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⠇⠻⣿⣿⣟⡿⢏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠧⠀⠀⠰⣿⡇⣿⣏⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢸⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⣾⡟⠀ ⠀⣿⣷⣾⡏⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡆⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣻⣿⣾⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢇⡀⢀⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⢀⣤⣬⢿⣧⣄⠈⠟⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣏⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⢸⣿⡃⠀⠀⠀⢿⣷⣿⣟⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣻⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣝⣻⣿⡿⢁⣴⣿⣿⣿⣶⣾⣿⣧⡄⠀⠹⣿⣿⣭⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣯⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢸⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣯⠀ ⠀⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣽⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠉⢉⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣀⠀⣼⢷⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣧⠀⠀⠀⢺⣿⢸⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⢸⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡄⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⣏⠃⡉⠒⡐⠂⡔⠢⡘⢰⡿⣭⠯⡽⡭⢯⡽⢭⢯⡝⡧⢯⡝⣞⡭⢯⡹⣭⠯⡽⣭⠯⣽⡹⢯⡝⣯⠽⣭⠯⡽⡭⣏⡯⣏⢯⡻⣭⢏⡷⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣜⣫⣵⡿⣏⣏⣷⣿⣯⢯⡽⢭⣏⡽⡭⣏⡽⡭⢯⡽⢭⢯⡽⢭⢯⡽⢭⢯⠽⣭⠯⡽⡭⢯⡽⢭⣏⡽⣭⢏⡽⡭⢷⡀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠄⢠⠀ ⢽⠀⠥⠑⡠⠃⡔⢩⢐⣿⡳⢧⡻⣝⣭⢳⡞⣽⣚⡼⣹⣓⠾⣱⠞⣧⢻⡼⣹⣓⢧⣛⢶⡹⢧⡻⣵⢫⡗⣏⣷⢳⡝⣞⡽⢮⣝⢮⡻⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⡿⣏⢷⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⣚⠷⣪⢗⡳⣭⢶⣹⠳⣞⡽⣺⡜⣯⢞⡼⣫⢞⡽⣲⢏⡷⣹⢳⠞⣧⢏⡷⢎⣛⢶⡹⢏⣷⠁⢌⠠⠉⢀⠈⢀⠈⠀⠁⡀⠠⠁⠠⠐⠐⠐⠀⡀ ⠷⢌⠲⢅⠲⢇⡜⢠⣺⡷⣫⢷⡹⣞⡼⣣⢟⡦⣝⣞⣳⢞⣯⢳⡟⣾⢳⡽⣳⢾⡳⣟⡮⣝⢧⡻⣜⢧⣛⣾⣿⣿⣿⣮⣝⣳⢮⣿⣵⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢭⡻⣵⢫⣗⢳⣎⢷⡻⣜⡳⢧⢿⡼⣻⢞⣷⢻⠾⣵⢻⡼⣳⢯⡿⣞⡯⣞⣭⣛⢮⡝⣮⢽⣏⠄⡂⢁⠂⠠⡀⠒⠸⠰⠐⠒⠔⠂⠖⠄⠖⢲⠀ ⡉⢆⡑⣊⠕⡪⣌⢣⣟⢧⣛⢶⡹⣞⡵⣫⢞⡵⣋⠶⣭⢞⡼⣣⢟⡼⣣⢷⡹⢶⡹⢮⡵⣛⢮⡳⣭⢻⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⡶⣽⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣼⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢻⣜⡳⣎⠷⣎⢷⡹⢮⡝⣯⢞⡵⣫⢞⡮⣏⠿⣜⢧⡻⣥⢻⡜⣧⢻⡜⣶⡹⢮⡝⣎⢧⢿⡈⠔⠂⠠⠀⠀⠄⠀⠄⢀⠂⢀⠄⠀⠠⠀⢀⠀ ⡘⢢⡑⢧⠚⡕⢮⣹⣏⢾⡹⣎⢷⣹⣷⡹⣎⠷⣭⢻⡜⣮⢳⡝⣮⣓⠷⢮⡝⣧⣛⢧⡳⣝⢮⣳⢭⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⡯⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣗⣻⣜⡳⣝⣻⡜⣧⢻⢧⣻⡜⣯⢞⡵⣫⢞⣭⢻⡜⣧⢻⡜⣧⣛⢮⡳⣝⢶⡹⢧⡻⣜⣫⢞⣏⠄⠂⢀⠐⠀⡀⠂⠐⠀⠐⠀⠀⠈⠀⠄⠀⠂ ⡌⢣⠜⣣⠛⡼⡱⣿⡹⣎⠷⣏⢾⣿⣣⢟⡼⣋⠾⣥⢻⡜⣧⣛⠶⣭⣛⢧⣛⢶⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⣫⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⣿⣿⡿⣱⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢳⡞⣽⣮⢳⡽⣎⡟⣮⣷⣝⢮⡻⣜⢧⡻⣜⢧⡻⣜⢧⣛⢶⡹⣎⢷⡹⢮⡝⣧⢻⠼⣥⢏⣿⠄⠒⠀⠀⠄⠀⡀⠂⠈⢀⠀⠁⡀⠁⠀⠂⠀ ⡘⢆⠹⡐⣏⠶⣹⡧⣟⡼⣻⣜⣿⣿⣱⢻⡼⢭⡻⡜⣧⣛⠶⣭⣛⢶⡹⢮⡝⣶⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⠿⣬⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⡿⣻⣛⣿⣿⣻⡼⣽⣿⣷⡹⢮⡝⣶⢻⣿⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⢮⡝⣮⢳⡝⣮⡝⣧⢻⠼⣭⢻⡜⡾⣼⣇⠠⠌⠀⡀⠂⠀⠐⠀⡀⠀⠂⠀⠄⠁⠠⠁ ⡐⠌⣡⠓⣬⠳⣽⣏⢷⡹⢧⣾⣿⡷⣭⢳⡞⣣⢯⡝⡶⢭⣛⠶⣝⢮⣽⣣⢟⡶⣹⢮⡳⣝⢾⡹⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⠿⡿⣿⣛⣟⡻⣟⢯⡽⣹⢭⡖⣧⣛⣷⣹⣧⣿⠾⠿⣷⣝⣺⡟⢻⣏⢷⡻⣜⢯⣿⣿⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⢮⡝⣧⢻⡜⣧⣛⠶⣹⠮⣝⡽⢲⡏⢾⡱⣎⣷⠀⠄⠂⠀⠄⠁⡀⠂⢀⠈⠀⠌⠀⡐⠀⠄ ⢀⠣⡐⡫⢔⣋⣿⢼⣣⠟⣽⣿⣿⡿⡼⣣⢟⣱⢳⡞⣭⢳⣭⢻⣼⣿⡳⣝⢮⡳⣝⢮⣿⣏⢾⡹⣿⣫⡽⣹⣭⢳⡳⣎⡳⣝⡮⣏⢿⣱⣣⣯⣞⣵⠿⠮⠷⠛⠚⠛⠋⠉⠉⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⢖⡳⣿⠀⢿⣎⠷⣙⠮⣿⢹⣏⡞⣵⡹⢎⡝⡧⣝⢎⡧⣛⢶⣩⢏⡳⡝⣞⡼⣣⢟⣣⡝⣖⣻⡇⠐⡈⠠⠐⢀⠠⠈⠠⢀⠡⢀⠂⠀⠄⠀ ⠠⢂⠅⡓⣎⢒⡿⣣⢏⣻⣿⣿⣿⢷⡹⢧⡻⣜⢧⡻⣜⡳⢮⣓⣾⡟⣷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣾⣯⢞⣧⣛⣿⣵⡿⠵⠾⠷⠛⠛⠛⠛⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣯⢳⣿⠀⠘⣯⣏⣭⠳⢾⡇⢿⣟⡴⢫⡝⢮⠵⣎⢏⡶⡹⢶⣩⠞⣵⢛⣬⢳⡝⡮⣇⡻⣜⢞⣧⢁⡐⢀⠂⠄⢂⠡⠌⡄⠒⠤⠈⠄⡀⠂ ⣀⠣⢌⠳⣌⢫⣷⢫⣏⣿⣿⣿⣿⢧⣛⢧⡻⣜⢧⡻⣼⢹⢧⣻⣿⣯⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣿⣿⢫⢶⣹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣄⣀⣀⡴⠋⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⢛⣿⡄⠀⢻⣜⡖⣏⠧⣿⠘⣿⡜⣧⢛⡎⢷⢪⣝⡲⣝⣣⢧⢻⠼⡭⡖⣯⣜⡳⣭⢳⡹⢎⣿⢀⠒⡄⠊⢌⢂⠱⢨⢌⡱⢊⡑⢂⡐⠀ ⢠⠢⢍⠶⣩⢾⡳⣏⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡻⣜⢧⡻⣜⢧⣛⢶⣫⢞⣿⣿⡷⣫⢷⡹⣎⢷⣿⣯⣏⢶⣻⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⠛⠉⠁⣀⣀⠀⠉⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧⡟⢾⡇⠀⠈⣿⡜⣎⢳⣿⠀⢿⣿⢬⡳⢭⣋⠷⣬⢓⡮⡵⢎⣏⠷⣹⡜⣧⢞⡱⢧⠯⣵⢫⣿⣌⠲⢠⠍⡢⠜⣌⢣⢎⡴⢣⠜⣢⢐⡁ ⠢⣑⠪⣕⢣⢾⣝⠮⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢳⡝⣮⢳⡝⣮⡝⣶⢫⣾⣿⣿⡟⡽⣎⢷⡹⢾⡇⣿⢎⡷⣻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠋⠀⣠⡶⠟⠛⠛⠻⢶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡞⣽⣧⣶⣶⣿⡞⣭⢎⣽⡄⠘⣿⣎⠷⣍⠾⣱⢣⡟⣴⢫⢏⡼⣫⢵⡺⣱⢮⣝⣫⢳⡝⣦⢻⡧⣙⠦⣙⠴⣋⠴⣋⢶⡘⢧⡙⡔⢢⠐ ⠱⢠⠓⣌⠳⣾⢎⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡳⣝⢮⡳⣝⣶⡝⣮⢳⣿⣿⣿⣟⡽⣎⢷⡹⢿⠇⢸⡟⡼⢿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠃⠀⢰⡏⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣿⣦⣤⣴⣶⣶⠯⠿⠟⢿⣜⢶⡏⠉⠀⠘⣿⡰⣏⢾⡇⠀⢻⣿⡹⢮⢫⡵⣓⠾⣱⢏⡾⡱⢏⡶⣹⡱⣞⣬⢳⣫⡜⣮⣛⡷⣭⢚⡵⢪⠵⣩⠒⡖⡉⢆⠒⡈⠄⠂ ⢡⢃⡝⡌⢧⣿⢫⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⡽⣎⢷⣹⣿⢧⡻⣜⣻⣿⣿⣿⣯⢞⡽⢮⡝⣿⠀⢸⣟⡽⣻⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣴⣶⣿⣷⡿⢿⣯⠽⠿⠟⢻⡾⠛⠉⣿⡉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣮⣻⡇⠀⠀⠀⢻⡽⣸⢻⣧⠀⠸⣿⡟⣭⠳⣎⣳⢫⢧⡻⢴⣫⢛⡼⣱⢣⡗⢮⣓⢧⣛⠶⣭⣿⣒⢯⡜⣣⠓⡤⢋⠔⣁⠂⠌⠐⠈⡀ ⢂⠧⡘⡜⢦⣿⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡱⣏⡾⣽⣷⣋⠷⣭⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢻⡜⣧⣛⣿⠀⢘⡿⣼⣹⡟⠛⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠛⣷⡀⠀⠙⠷⠶⠶⠛⠀⠀⢠⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⢻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠘⣯⢳⡣⣿⠃⠀⣿⣿⣱⠻⣜⡲⢏⡾⣭⢳⢎⡻⢼⣱⢳⡚⣧⢛⡮⣭⢳⠧⣿⡜⢧⡚⢥⡙⠄⡃⠐⠠⠈⠠⠁⠐⠀ ⣊⠖⣩⡜⢧⡿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⣝⢮⢳⣿⣗⢯⡻⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⢷⡹⢶⡭⣿⠀⠠⣿⢧⣽⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠇⠀⠈⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣰⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⢻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡳⡝⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⡷⡻⢬⡳⢏⡞⣷⣏⠾⣍⢷⣊⢧⡝⣎⡟⣼⡱⣏⢾⣹⡾⣭⡝⢦⡑⡊⠄⡉⠄⠠⠁⠠⠈⠄ ⢆⡻⡴⣝⢯⣗⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⢮⣏⣿⣿⣟⢮⣝⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡯⣞⡹⢧⣛⣿⠀⠀⣿⡳⢾⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠻⠶⠶⢦⢬⣿⣷⣶⣶⠾⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡹⣧⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⢷⠹⣿⡿⠿⠿⣿⣿⡵⣫⢗⡯⢞⣿⣯⢻⡜⣧⢫⢮⡝⣮⢝⡶⣹⢎⡷⣹⣟⡮⣝⠦⡱⢁⠊⠤⠀⠂⢈⠀⡉⡐ ⣏⢶⡹⣎⢿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢗⡮⣿⣿⣯⡗⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⣭⢻⡝⣮⣿⠀⢀⣻⣏⢿⡇⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣴⢶⡶⣻⠿⣿⣿⡷⣹⣿⣿⡿⠿⠛⢹⣯⢳⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣷⡹⢮⡽⣫⣿⣿⣻⢼⣣⢟⡺⣜⢧⡻⣜⢧⣏⢷⣹⡟⣼⢩⢒⠡⠂⠄⠠⠐⠈⠠⠀⠌⡡ ⢞⢢⡝⣮⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⢮⣽⣿⣿⡷⣝⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢧⣛⢾⡱⣿⡀⣻⣿⣟⣾⣇⢈⣧⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⢶⡶⣾⣿⣿⣻⣿⣯⣯⡽⠾⠷⠾⠓⠛⠛⠉⣩⣿⣿⣽⣟⣋⡤⣤⣶⣾⣿⣧⣿⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣧⡟⣧⣛⡵⣿⣿⡷⣏⢮⡳⣝⢮⣏⣿⣝⠶⣹⢮⣹⣏⡖⠣⠌⠠⠁⠠⠀⠐⠈⡀⠁⢆⠡ ⢎⢣⠞⣜⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢳⣾⣿⣿⣟⢮⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⢏⣯⣝⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢾⣿⣿⣿⣛⣟⣯⣻⣽⠯⠿⠽⠚⠓⠛⠛⠛⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡴⣾⣯⢿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡗⠐⠀⣰⢿⣿⣿⣽⢲⡽⣜⣿⣿⣿⣜⢧⡻⣜⡳⣎⣿⣿⡹⢧⣳⣹⡇⣎⠱⡈⠐⠠⠀⠌⢀⠂⡐⠉⡄⠣ ⢎⢧⡛⣮⢽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⣿⣿⣿⣟⡮⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⡟⣦⢻⣿⠉⠉⠉⢹⣿⣏⣉⣉⣉⡙⠛⠛⠻⠿⠷⣶⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⢴⡟⠉⣠⣞⣿⢾⣯⣾⣿⣟⡿⣟⣿⣯⣹⣿⡇⢀⣴⠃⢼⣿⣿⣧⢟⡶⣹⣿⣿⣿⣮⢳⣝⡲⣝⡲⣿⣿⣏⢷⡣⢾⡗⡬⢓⠌⣁⠆⠡⡈⢄⠂⡌⠱⣈⠱ ⣏⠶⣙⣧⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣜⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⣝⢮⡻⣿⣌⣭⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣯⣍⣛⡳⠦⣄⠀⠈⠉⣍⠓⠲⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢡⠞⠀⢾⡿⠋⠁⢈⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠾⠉⠙⣿⣿⣿⢎⡳⡽⣿⣿⣿⣧⢛⢦⣛⣬⢳⣿⣿⣿⢎⡿⣹⣇⡳⣉⠖⡠⢎⡑⡰⣈⠖⡬⠱⣌⠣ ⣾⡹⢧⣏⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡺⣭⡛⣿⠛⠛⠉⠉⢻⣿⣿⣟⡿⣿⣿⣟⣻⡟⠛⠶⢯⡆⠀⠈⠳⣄⠀⢹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣏⡀⠅⠉⠈⠉⠉⢹⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣞⡹⣽⣿⣿⣿⣧⣛⠮⣵⢊⡷⣿⣿⣿⡯⣼⢹⣧⠳⡜⡼⣑⠮⣔⠳⡜⣜⠲⡍⢦⡑ ⣷⣻⣳⢯⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣛⢶⣹⢻⣆⡀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣠⠤⠤⠖⠃⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀⠀⢷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡮⣵⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⢼⣙⢦⡛⣖⣿⣿⣿⣷⢣⣻⣷⣋⢾⡱⣝⢾⣩⢟⡽⣎⢷⡹⢦⣙ ⣿⣳⣯⣟⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡽⢮⣝⣻⡏⢉⠿⠟⠻⢿⡏⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⢀⡼⠃⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⢤⡀⡀⢸⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣟⡴⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⢺⡌⣧⠽⣌⣿⣿⣿⣿⠧⣽⣳⡽⣺⣽⣻⢾⡽⣯⢷⣯⢷⣻⣽⣺ ⣿⣯⣷⣿⡾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡸⣟⣳⢞⡼⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠎⠀⣠⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡿⣜⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡗⣞⠲⡽⢬⣿⣻⣿⣿⣏⣽⢾⣽⣳⢯⣟⣯⣿⡽⣿⣞⣯⣷⢯⣷ ⣿⣟⣷⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⢧⣻⣜⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠃⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⢣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣬⢛⡵⣋⣿⡿⣿⣿⡧⣿⣻⢾⡽⣯⣟⡷⣯⣿⢯⣿⣽⣾⢿⣻ ⣿⡿⣽⣾⢿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢸⣷⢳⡎⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣅⡖⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠀⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢦⣛⡴⢣⣿⢛⣿⣿⣟⣿⣯⣿⣿⣷⣻⣟⣷⣻⣿⣳⣿⢾⡿⣿ ⣿⣻⢿⣽⣻⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢿⣣⡽⣺⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡆⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡏⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⡀⠀⠘⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠷⣬⢹⣹⣿⣵⣾⣿⣿⣿⣰⣓⢮⡝⣏⣟⠻⢿⢾⣿⣽⣟⣿⣽ ⡿⣽⣻⡞⣷⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠸⣷⡭⣽⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡆⠀⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⡞⢶⣩⣿⣿⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣻⢿⣻⣾⢿⣯⣾⣼⡶⣭⡛⢿ ⡿⣶⢷⡿⣹⡾⣿⣿⣿⣷⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢹⡾⡶⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⡹⢷⣈⢿⣿⡿⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⣾⣏⡿⣷⣏⡿⣾⢷⣏⣿⣹⣿⣧ ⢿⣜⣳⡻⣵⢫⣿⣿⣿⣟⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠘⣯⠷⣹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⢯⠳⣭⣾⣿⡽⣯⣿⣿⣿⣽⣳⢯⣟⡷⣯⢿⣽⣻⣽⡾⣷⣻⣿ ⣏⠾⣱⢻⡜⣯⢾⣿⣿⣏⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠸⣟⣽⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡧⢞⡽⣲⣿⣷⣻⡽⣿⣿⣟⡾⣽⢯⡿⣽⣯⣿⣯⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣎⢟⡱⢯⡝⣮⣽⣿⣿⣛⣭⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⢹⣮⢻⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣤⡄⠀⢠⡶⢦⣄⠀⠀⢀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠷⣚⢿⣿⣞⡷⣟⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣎⢾⣙⣷⣟⣯⣵⣿⣿⣿⣻⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⢻⣽⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⣸⠞⠋⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢫⢞⣭⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣟⣿⣿⣻⣯⣿⣿⣿ ⣾⣻⣽⣾⢯⡿⣽⣾⣿⣿⣽⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠈⢿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠐⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣯⣿⣷⣿⢿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿ ⣿⣽⣳⣯⣿⣻⢷⣻⣻⣿⣞⣿⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠈⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡔⠁⢀⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣻⣿⣻⣯⣿⣾⣟⣿⣿⣽⣿⣯⣿⣯⣿⣾⣿⣿⢿⣟⣯⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿ ⣿⣞⡷⣟⣾⡽⣟⣯⣿⣿⣽⡾⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣽⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⢤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠶⠶⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠊⠀⠀⣾⣿⡙⢾⣿⣿⣷⡿⣯⣿⣿⣻⣿⣽⡿⣷⣿⡿⣯⣿⣷⣿⣯⣿⣿⣽⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣾ ⣿⣞⡿⣯⣷⢿⣻⣽⣞⣿⣿⣽⣟⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡭⢽⣿⣧⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠁⠀⢀⠀⢀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣠⡤⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠜⠁⠀⣠⠞⢹⡿⣩⣿⣿⣿⣾⢿⡿⣷⡿⣿⣽⡿⣿⣟⣷⣿⣿⢿⣽⣾⣿⣯⣿⣟⣯⣿⣿⣻⣽⣾⣿⣿⢿⣾⣿ ⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢚⣿⣿⡷⣄⠈⠢⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⠋⠀⣠⠞⠁⠀⣾⡷⣡⣿⣿⣾⢿⡿⣿⡿⣽⣿⣻⣿⣟⣿⣿⣻⣾⣿⣿⣻⣷⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣽⣿⡿⣟⣯⣿⣿⡿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣱⢺⣿⣧⠈⠱⢤⡀⠙⠢⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⠁⢀⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⢠⣿⡗⣯⣿⣿⡿⣿⣟⣿⣽⣿⣻⣽⡿⣯⣿⣾⡿⣟⣷⣿⡿⣟⣯⣿⣿⢿⣾⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⡿⣷⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣋⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠙⠢⣄⠀⠉⠢⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠞⠁⢀⡴⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣽⠏⡟⣼⣿⣿⣿⣟⣯⣿⣽⣾⣿⣻⣽⣿⣯⣷⣿⣿⢿⣯⣿⣿⣿⢿⣻⣿⣿⣽⣿⡿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡜⣹⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠦⣄⠀⠈⠒⠤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠔⠋⠀⣠⠖⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⢀⡿⢀⡟⡾⣿⣿⣯⣿⣟⣯⣿⣷⡿⣟⣿⣷⣿⣻⣽⣿⣿⣻⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⢿⣻⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣟⣯⣷⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⡝⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠲⢤⣀⠈⠉⠒⠦⢄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠤⠖⠉⠀⣀⡴⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠀⣸⠁⢸⡏⣷⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣻⣷⡿⣿⢿⣻⣾⣟⣿⡿⣷⣿⢿⣟⣿⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⢿⣻⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣸⢻⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠲⠤⣀⡀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⢀⡠⠔⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠋⠀⠀⢸⠇⠌⢸⣏⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣽⡿⣷⣿⢿⡿⣟⣯⣿⣟⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⡿⣿⣻⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣯⣿⣷⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⢿⣻⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣧⡛⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠒⠦⠤⠤⠤⠤⠴⠚⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠜⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⢸⢣⣿⣿⣿⣽⣾⡿⣟⣿⣽⡿⣿⡿⣟⣯⣿⣿⣽⣿⣯⣷⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣽⣾⣿⢿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣽⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢹⢻⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠽⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⢿⣿⣻⣯⣿⣟⣿⡿⣟⣿⣾⡿⣷⣿⣿⣻⣽⣾⣿⣿⣻⣿⣻⣿⡿⣟⣿⡿⣿⡿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠾⣿⢿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢭⣿⣿⣿⣽⡿⣿⣻⣿⣽⣟⣯⣿⣿⢿⣻⣷⣿⣿⢿⣾⣿⢿⣟⣯⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢏ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢳⢿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣊⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⢿⣿⣽⣯⣿⣟⣿⣾⣿⣿⢿⣽⣾⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⢿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⡰ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣾⣿⣿⣽⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠾⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡧⣟⣿⣿⣷⣿⣻⣿⣯⣿⣽⣷⡿⣿⣽⣾⣿⡿⣿⣻⣷⣿⣿⢿⣾⣿⣿⣾⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢠⠑ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡝⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⣠⠀⠸⣞⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣦⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣗⣻⣿⣿⣯⣿⣟⣷⣿⣻⣾⢿⣽⣿⡿⣽⣾⣿⣿⢿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠠⢁⠎ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⢽⡅⣷⠀⠀⡰⠁⠀⠀⠘⢿⡤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⢎⡽⣿⣿⣻⣷⣿⢿⣯⣿⣻⣿⣯⣷⣿⣿⢿⣷⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⢀⠢⢁⠂ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣚⣧⢻⢀⡔⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢻⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡏⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣺⡹⢼⣿⣿⣟⣿⣾⡿⣟⣷⣿⣷⣿⣻⣽⣾⣿⡿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠐⡀⠂⢄⠈ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡜⣻⡞⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣝⣿⣿⣿⣻⣯⣿⢿⣿⣟⣷⣿⣾⢿⣟⣯⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⢂⠐⠈⡀⠂ ⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⣙⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⣜⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣽⡿⣿⣾⢿⣳⣿⡿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣬⡀⠂⢃⠠⠁ ⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠭⢿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣟⡖⣿⣿⣯⣿⣟⣯⣿⣿⣽⣿⢿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⢂⠂⡁ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣹⢺⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣏⣗⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣻⣽⣾⣟⣯⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⢂⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡧⣓⣷⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠖⠁⣸⢗⡿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣾⢿⣻⣽⡿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣄ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢥⣿⡈⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠴⠁⢀⣰⣿⢎⢳⣿⣿⣿⣻⣯⣿⡿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡲⣹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠓⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠋⠀⣀⡼⢧⣾⢎⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣽⣷⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⡥⣷⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣲⣶⠲⢄⣀⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡤⠴⠒⠋⠁⠀⠀⣽⡞⣿⣿⣿⢿⣯⣿⢿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣻⣽⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡙⣿⡀⠉⡉⠙⠒⠒⠒⠒⠦⠤⠤⠤⠤⢴⣋⣸⡇⢈⡿⢀⣹⠒⠒⠒⠚⠉⠉⠁⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡜⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠖⠋⠻⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠁⢀⡤⠒⠂⠀⡠⠒⠀⠀⡖⠚⡆⠀⠀⠀⣠⡶⠋⠀⠀⠀⣠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⢧⣰⠁⠀⠀⡇⢸⠒⠋⡇⡞⠖⢤⡀⢀⣧⡋⠁⠀⢀⡼⠋⠀⠀⡄⠀⢠⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠘⠈⠃⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠉⠒⠁⠈⠧⠴⠃⠘⠀⠉⠃⢠⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠁⢠⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡏⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣶⣿⡇⠀⣾⣿⣄⡀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣟⠀⠀⣀⣈⡘⠛⠁⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢀⡤⢤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⡼⠋⢀⠀⢻⣞⡉⠈⠹⣆⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⠁⠀⠉⠳⣤⡀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠁⣀⣾⡷⠏⢀⣤⡄⠀⢹⠀⠀⢸⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡴⠖⢲⡆ ⠸⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡀⠉⠹⠳⡄⠘⠛⠉⢁⡟⠀⠀⠈⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠞⠋⠁⠀⠀⢠⡏ ⠀⠹⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠳⠤⠤⠾⠳⣄⣀⣠⠞⣀⡀⠀⠀⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⠞⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡟⠁ ⠀⠀⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠈⠂⠀⠈⠙⢦⡄⣰⢇⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣿⡟⠒⠀⠘⡇⠀⣠⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠟⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠻⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠏⠀⠈⣿⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⣿⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠏⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⣰⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠄⠀⣠⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣦⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠋⠀⠳⣾⣿⠟⠉⠀⠋⣁⡴⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢦⡀⢀⡾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣻⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠾⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⠀⠰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠋⠀⢻⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⠈⢳⣿⡶⣤⣀⠘⠻⠿⠖⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⣶⠿⠋⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣆⠸⣄⣨⣟⠺⢿⣲⣤⡤⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣺⠯⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⣸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡌⠉⣿⠋⠀⠀⠈⢫⡉⠓⠒⣿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠓⠋⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣰⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⡙⠶⣄⣀⣀⣸⠸⢦⠾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠁⣼⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⠀⠙⠳⢤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠻⣤⣤⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢧⣄⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠒⢶⠤⣤⣄⣀⣰⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡖⠒⠾⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡛⠲⠦⠤⢤⣤⠾⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡆⠀⣠⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢧⡰⠀⠀⢀⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢻⡟⠓⠒⠚⠛⠋⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣤⣤⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣄⠀⠀⠀⣴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⣄⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️ ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️ ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚪️ ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚪️ ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚫️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚫️⚪️ ⚪️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚫️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️ ⚪️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️ ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚪️ ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️ ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

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