Iiii Emojis & Text

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

CHIP AND THE DILEMMA iiii (Autistic author) "Come with me," she says, her voice still firm but filled with love. Plankton nods, his body moving on autopilot. They go into the living room, the space now eerily quiet after the storm of Plankton's meltdown. Karen guides him to the couch, his movements slow and heavy. He sits, his antennae drooping as he looks at her. Karen takes his hand, her screen filled with sadness but no anger. "It's okay," she says gently. "We just..." But Plankton can't hear her. Chip's words echo in his head, a refrain of pain. "Broken... unfixable...weak, wrong." He repeats them to himself, his voice hollow. Karen breaks as she watches her husband sink deeper into his own torment. She squeezes his hand, but he doesn't react. The words bounce around in his mind, each one stinging like a slap to the face. "Broken... unfixable...weak, wrong." The room spins around him, each syllable echoing in his brain like a taunt. Plankton's breath hitches, his antennae twitching erratically. The weight of the words is crushing him, and he can't find a way to push them aside. "Broken...unfixable...weak, wrong," he whispers to himself, his voice a mere echo of Chip's cruel sarcasm. The words hang in the air, a toxic mantra that clings to him like a second skin. Karen's voice is a distant whisper, her comfort lost to the cacophony in his head. The room feels too bright, too loud, as if each item is screaming its own accusation at him. He tries to block it out, but the echoes of his son's words are relentless. "Broken...unfixable...weak, wrong," Plankton murmurs, his voice a sad mimicry of Chip's. He squeezes his eye shut, willing the words away, but they just grow louder, like a chorus of his deepest fears. Karen's voice pierces through his mental fog. "Plankton," she says, her grip on his hand tightening. "You're not weak. You're not wrong. You're my hero, and Chip's..." “Plankton born wrong, isn’t right in the head…” He says, each repetition a dull knife twisting in his chest. "You're not," Karen insists, but he can't hear her over the din in his mind. "Sorry," he whispers, a prayer for forgiveness, for understanding. Chip watches from the doorway. He wants to go to his dad, but his own words have turned into a barricade, keeping him at bay. He can't shake the image of Plankton's face when he called him weak, can't unhear the echoes of his own cruelty. Plankton's hands start to move in small, repetitive motions—stimming, they realize with a start. It's a way for him to cope with the overwhelming sensory input, a secret he's never shared before. His fingers drum against the couch cushions, his body rocking slightly as he tries to soothe himself. Karen's voice is like a lifeline through the tumult. "You're not wrong, Plankton," she says, her voice firm. "You're just... different. And that's okay." But Plankton can't hear her. The words "born wrong" echo in his head, louder with each passing second. His stimming becomes more frantic, his hands moving faster, his body rocking slightly more. It's a dance of pain, a silent scream for the world to make sense again. Karen aches as she watches her husband's distress. She's seen this before, but never so intense. She knows he needs her help, needs her, but she's not sure what to do. Her mind races through the strategies they've discussed, the tools they've learned together to cope with his meltdowns. Her screen focus on his hands, the frantic stimming a silent cry for help. She knows that touch can be too much for Plankton right now, but she needs to break the cycle. She gently places a soft blanket in his lap, his favorite shade of blue. Plankton's hands stop, his eye blinking in confusion. He looks down at the material, feeling the cotton under his fingertips. The sensation is calming, like a cool breeze on a hot day. He starts to fidget with the corner, his movements slowing, the material a familiar comfort in his chaotic world. Karen watches. She knows that touch can be a double-edged sword for Plankton during these moments, but she has to do something. She sits next to him, her hand poised, hovering over his shoulder. "It's okay," she whispers, her voice soothing. Plankton's antennae twitch, sensing her presence. He's always been sensitive to touch, especially during his meltdowns. But he's also always found comfort in his wife's embrace. With a deep breath, he leans into her touch, her warmth seeping into his overwhelmed body like a balm. The room is a blur, but the sensation of the blanket and Karen's hand is grounding. He focuses on the pressure points, the rhythmic strokes that usually soothe him. But the words "born wrong" are a poison that no comfort can counteract. He starts to rock, his body moving in sync with the whispers of his fears. His stimming is a lifeboat in the storm of his mind, desperately trying to navigate him back to calm waters. Karen's seen this before, but never this intense. She's learned that stimming can be a sign of comfort or a cry for help. This time, it's a battleground. The soft blue blanket in his hands is a beacon, a reminder of her love and their shared history. The cotton whispers secrets of peace, but the echoes of Chip's words are a storm he can't outrun. She sees the conflict in his movements—his body desperately seeking calm, his mind reeling from the emotional tempest. Karen's touch is gentle, a reminder of the world outside his chaos. Her hand on his shoulder is a connection to reality, a plea for him to come back. But Plankton is lost in his own head, the words spinning like a tornado of self-doubt. He's not just stimming now; he's fighting a war with his own identity. From the depths of his pain, a sound rises, a hum that starts in his chest and travels up his throat, spilling out into the room. It's a low, almost inaudible note that grows in intensity with each exhalation. It's a sound he's made before, a self-soothing technique learned. It's a tune without lyrics, a lullaby for his tortured soul. The hum fills the silence, a beacon in the storm of his thoughts. Karen recognizes it immediately. It's a safe sound, a soothing noise that he makes when he's overwhelmed. She's heard it before, during their late night talks when his thoughts swirl like a tornado, threatening to pull him under. Her eyes never leave his, her voice low and steady. "Look at me, Plankton," she says. "You're not broken. You're not wrong." She repeats it like a mantra, willing the words to replace the venom in his mind. The hum falters, then steadies again, his hand twitching as he clutches the corner of the blanket. Karen takes a deep breath, her hand still on his shoulder. "You're not broken," she says, her voice a balm to his frenzied thoughts. "You're just... different." The words hang in the air, a lifeline thrown to a drowning man. Plankton's breathing slows, his body stilling under her touch. He opens his eye, looking at his wife with a mix of shame and hope. The hum diminishes, his body beginning to relax. Chip's voice echoed in his mind, but Karen's words are louder now. He's not broken, not wrong. He's different, sure, but that doesn't mean less. With a trembling hand, Plankton reaches up to cover her hand with his own. "I'm sorry," he whispers, the words raw and painful. "I'm sorry for scaring both you." Karen's eyes fill with tears, but she smiles through them. "You don't have to apologize for being who you are," she says, squeezing his hand. "We're all just trying to figure it out." Plankton nods, his antennae twitching as he looks at her, his eye searching hers for forgiveness. She leans in, kisses him gently on the forehead. "We'll talk to Chip together," she says. "We'll explain it to him better." They stand up, the room spinning slightly around them. Chip is still in the hallway, his eyes red and swollen. He looks at them. "Dad," he whispers, his voice small and scared. Plankton's antennae droop, his shoulders slumping. He doesn't know how to face his son, not after what he's done. But Karen's hand in his is a reminder of strength, a promise that they'll get through this.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⢤⣤⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⠋⠀⣀⠄⡂⠍⣀⣒⣒⠂⠀⠬⠤⠤⠬⠍⠉⠝⠲⣄⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠁⠀⠊⢔⠕⠈⣀⣀⡀⠈⠆⠀⠀⠀⡍⠁⠀⠁⢂⠀⠈⣷⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⣾⠥⠀⠀⣠⢠⣞⣿⣿⣿⣉⠳⣄⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣶⣶⡄⠀⠀⣘⢦⡀ ⢀⡞⡍⣠⠞⢋⡛⠶⠤⣤⠴⠚⠀⠈⠙⠁⠀⠀⢹⡏⠁⠀⣀⣠⠤⢤⡕⠱⣷ ⠘⡇⠇⣯⠤⢾⡙⠲⢤⣀⡀⠤⠀⢲⡖⣂⣀⠀⠀⢙⣶⣄⠈⠉⣸⡄⠠⣠⡿ ⠀⠹⣜⡪⠀⠈⢷⣦⣬⣏⠉⠛⠲⣮⣧⣁⣀⣀⠶⠞⢁⣀⣨⢶⢿⣧⠉⡼⠁ ⠀⠀⠈⢷⡀⠀⠀⠳⣌⡟⠻⠷⣶⣧⣀⣀⣹⣉⣉⣿⣉⣉⣇⣼⣾⣿⠀⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⢳⡄⠀⠀⠘⠳⣄⡀⡼⠈⠉⠛⡿⠿⠿⡿⠿⣿⢿⣿⣿⡇⠀⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⣕⠠⣒⠌⡙⠓⠶⠤⣤⣧⣀⣸⣇⣴⣧⠾⠾⠋⠀⠀⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠶⣭⣒⠩⠖⢠⣤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠔⠁⡰⠀⣧⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠲⢤⣀⣀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⣠⠏⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠛⠒⠲⠶⠤⠴⠒⠚⠁⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣷⣀⢀⣾⠿⠻⢶⣄⠀⠀⣠⣶⡿⠶⣄⣠⣾⣿⠗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⢻⣿⣿⡿⣿⠿⣿⡿⢼⣿⣿⡿⣿⣎⡟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⠉⠛⢛⣛⡉⠀⠀⠙⠛⠻⠛⠑⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣧⣤⣴⠿⠿⣷⣤⡤⠴⠖⠳⣄⣀⣹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣀⣟⠻⢦⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡈⠻⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⡿⠉⡇⠀⠀⠛⠛⠛⠋⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠹⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡟⠀⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠈⠑⠪⠷⠤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣦⣼⠛⢦⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠑⠢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠴⠲⠖⠛⠻⣿⡿⠛⠉⠉⠻⠷⣦⣽⠿⠿⠒⠚⠋⠉⠁⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⠒⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢣⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣑⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣧⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⡾⢿⣀⢀⣀⣦⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⣫⣿⡿⠟⠻⠶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣿⣧⡾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⢿⣿⣧⠀⡀⠀⢀⣀⣀⢒⣤⣶⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⠀⡾⠁⠙⣿⡈⠉⠙⣿⣿⣷⣬⡛⢿⣶⣶⣴⣶⣶⣶⣤⣤⠤⠾⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⣿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⣸⠃⠀⠀⢸⠃⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⠟⡉⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⣿⠀⠀⢀⡏⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠠⠿⠟⠻⠟⠋⠉⢿⣿⣦⡀⢰⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁ ⢀⣿⡆⢀⡾⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠏⢿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣙⢷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣿⣻⢿⣷⣀⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀ ⢸⠃⠠⣼⠃⠀⠀⣠⣾⡟⠀⠈⢿⣿⡿⠿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⠷⣄⠈⠿⠛⠻⠶⢶⣄⣀⣀⡠⠈⢛⡿⠃⠈⢿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀ ⠟⠀⠀⢻⣶⣶⣾⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⢸⣿⢅⠀⠈⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠋⠉⠉⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⠀⠰⡀⢸⣷⣤⣤⡄⠀⠀⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢼⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢻⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠉⠀⠀⠈⠓⢯⡉⠉⠉⢱⣶⠏⠙⠛⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠇⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠄⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠀⢠⡄⠀⠀⠀⣁⠁⡀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣐⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡇

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⠿⠿⠿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣶⣿⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣾⣿⣶⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⣀⣤⣶⣶⣌⠻⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣙⢿⣿⣿⣿⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣹⣟⣫⣼⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣠⣴⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⢿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢰⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣧⣄⣐⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀ ⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠉⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠁⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⠿⣟⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣏⡏⠀⠀⠀⢣⢻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣟⠧⠤⠤⠔⠋⠀⢿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡀⢀⣶⠤⠒⠀⢻⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣆⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⢿⢿⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠘⣿⠋⠁⠀⠙⢇⠀⠀⠙⢿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⢇⡞⠘⣧⠀⢖⡭⠞⢛⡄⠘⣆⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⣿⣛⣥⠤⠤⢿⡄⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣼⡟⡱⠛⠙⠀⠀⠘⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⡀⠀ ⢸⡏⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣷⡀ ⠸⣧⠘⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇ ⠀⣿⡄⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⠀ ⠀⢹⡇⠘⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⣼⡟⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⡇⠀⢹⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢳⣼⠟⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠸⣧⣀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢃⠀⢀⣴⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠙⢷⣄⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡿⠟⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢿⣷⣦⣄⣀⣀⣠⣤⠾⠷⣦⣤⣤⡶⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠐⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠇⠀⠀⠀⠘⡆⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⠢⢼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠀⠀⡰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠞⠀⢹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⠀⣰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠋⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⠁⠀⡿⣯⡷⡴⢦⣤⡠⣶⡶⠀⢷⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣥⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⢦⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠳⠀⢳⡀⢹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⡿⠘⠀⠀⠹⣼⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢠⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡄⠀⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⠀⠀⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣴⠓⣾⣳⣀⢀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡇⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠑⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢳⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠃⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⡇⢹⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠉⠓⠶⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠴⠋⠣⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠟⣸⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣴⣿⠋⠘⣆⠀⢰⠶⠤⢍⣛⣶⠤⠿⣷⣦⡀⠒⠚⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠢⠤⡄⠀⠀⢀⡴⢯⠴⣳⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠘⢦⡈⠻⣖⠤⣤⣉⣉⣹⣯⣭⠉⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⠛⣫⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⣄⠉⢦⡀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⣸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⢿⣷⢚⡝⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⢶⣷⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⠷⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⣦⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⡿⠛⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠻⢿⣿⣷⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠈⢻⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣯⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢿⣷⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⣀⣤⣴⣶⣶⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣷⠀ ⠀⢰⣿⡟⠋⠉⣹⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣤⣤⣤⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀ ⠀⣸⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠛⢻⣿⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣧⠀⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⢿⣿⡆⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠸⣿⣧⡀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⠶⠀⢠⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⣽⣿⡏⠁⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⢹⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣦⣄⣀⣠⣴⣿⣿⠁⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⡿⠗⠀⠠⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⢶⣶⡄ ⢀⣶⣦⣸⠀⢼⣟⡇⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠘⡿⠃ ⠀⢿⣿⣿⣄⠒⠀⠠⢶⡂⢫⣿⢇⢀⠃⠀ ⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣀⣀⣀⣂⡠⠊⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠉⠙⠛⠿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠘⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡟⠿⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⠉⠉⢹⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⢀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣠⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⠲⢦⣄⡀⠀⠀ ⡶⢟⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣷⣷⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣬⡛⢷⣔ ⣾⡿⠟⠋⠉⠁⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠙⠛⢻⠛⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣉⢉⣉⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⢿⣷⣝ ⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⢛⡛⠛⠛⠛⣰⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣌⠛⠛⢛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣓⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡾⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⡟⢻⣿⠳⠆⠘⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠁⠐⠛⣿⡟⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣟⠛⠻⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢴⠿⣧⣄⣀⣘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣀⡙⢷⠀⢀⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⡖⠀⣾⣋⣀⣺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣀⣤⣴⠿⢷⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠙⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠆⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⠉⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠆⠀⠀⢀⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣶⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⣾⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣴⣶⣾⠿⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠛⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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A LIFE OF DIVERSITY iii (Autistic author) "It's okay, Plankton," Sponge Bob said, his voice soothing. "We're just going for a walk. Nothing to worry about." The three of them walked in silence for a while, the only sounds the lapping of the waves and the occasional squawk of a seagull. Karen could feel the tension, and she wondered what was going on inside his head. As they neared the jellyfish fields Sponge Bob perked up. "Hey, Plankton, you remember jellyfishing right?" He asked, his tone hopeful. Plankton's antennae stopped the nervous twitching for a moment. "Jellyfishing," he murmured, the memory sparking a glimmer of interest. "Jellyfish sting." Sponge Bob's smile grew wider. "Yeah, but it's fun, right?" He said trying to keep the conversation light. Karen could see the effort in his eyes and felt a pang of guilt for ever thinking poorly of him. "Jellyfish... fun," Plankton repeated, his voice still flat. Sponge Bob looked at him, his smile fading slightly. "Yeah, jellyfishing's the best!" he said trying to keep the energy up. "Remember all the good times we had?" Plankton nodded, his gaze distant. "Good times," he echoed. Sponge Bob's smile faltered, and he shot a questioning glance at Karen. "Is everything ok with Plankton?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern. Karen took and squeezed Plankton's hand. "Hold on, Sponge Bob," she said gently. "Plankton, can you find us a rock? A pretty sparkly rock." Plankton's gaze snapped to hers, and she could see the gears turning in his head. He nodded, his antennae tilting slightly. "Find rock," he said, before going in the familiar jellyfish fields. Sponge Bob watched him go, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. "Is Plankton ok Karen?" he asked. "He's just... different now," Karen said, voice tight with emotion. "He had an accident, and the doctor says he has acquired autism." Sponge Bob's eyes went wide. "Hey I think I have that, too! But what does that mean for Plankton?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. "It means he's going to need some help," Karen said, her voice calm and measured. "He'll still be the same Plankton we know, but his brain works differently now." Sponge Bob's eyes searched hers, trying to understand. "Different like how?" Karen took a deep breath. "Well, he might repeat what we say," she began, watching Plankton as he picked up rocks and examined them. "It's called echolalia. It's a way for him to process language now." Sponge Bob's eyes widened with understanding. "Oh, like a parrot!" he exclaimed, nodding. Karen chuckled, despite the heaviness of the situation. "Sort of," she said, "but it's more than just repeating words. It's how he processes information now." Sponge Bob watched Plankton, who had found a particularly shiny rock and was now examining it with intense focus. "What else, Karen?" he asked. Karen took a deep breath, trying to explain as best she could. "Sometimes, Plankton might need more time to understand what people are saying to him." Sponge Bob nodded, his eyes never leaving Plankton. "How might he act?" Karen sighed, looking at the ocean. "Well, sometimes he might get overwhelmed by sounds, lights, or even textures," she said. "It's like his senses are on overload. Although he'll have it for the rest of his life, he can potentially improve his skills. It happened yesterday, I don't think you were working but Krabs hit Plankton's head.." Sponge Bob's expression grew serious, and he nodded solemnly. "I'm really sorry to hear that, Karen," he said, his eyes filled with genuine empathy. "Plankton's always been pretty tough, but I won't let Mr. Krabs know." Plankton returned with the sparkly rock, his gaze still a bit unfocused. "Pretty rock," he said, holding it out to Karen. Karen took the rock. "Thank you, Plankton," she said, her voice filled with warmth. "Good find," Sponge Bob added, giving him an encouraging thumbs-up. The walk continued, yet a distant wail of a boat's horn created a symphony that seemed to overwhelm him. He stopped, his antennae flattening against his head, his eye wide with distress. "Too loud," he murmured, his voice strained. Karen noticed Plankton's agitation. They guided him to a nearby bench, and he sat, his arms wrapped tightly around himself, rocking back and forth. "It's okay, Plankton," she soothed, her voice calm. "Just breathe, darling." Plankton's gaze remained fixed on the horizon, his antennae quivering. "What's wrong, Plankton?" SpongeBob asked, voice filled with concern. Plankton didn't respond, his eye squeezed shut as he hummed a tune to himself. Karen and Sponge Bob sat beside him, giving him space and waiting for the overwhelming sound to pass. After a few moments, the boat's horn ceased and Plankton's breathing began to even out. He looks up, gaze still slightly unfocused. "Plankton ok now?" Sponge Bob asked, his voice gentle. Karen nodded. "I think so," she said, watching Plankton's antennae slowly untangle from their protective pose. "Sounds can be really intense for him now." Sponge Bob nodded solemnly. "We'll keep it down then," he said, his voice a whisper. Karen smiled gratefully at him. "Thank you, Sponge Bob," she said. "It means a lot." They sat for a few more moments, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore acting as a soothing lullaby for Plankton. Finally, he spoke up, his voice still flat. "Home now," he said, his eye still on the horizon. Karen nodded. "Alright, let's go home," she said, her voice gentle. "SpongeBob?" Plankton asks, wanting him to come with. Sponge Bob looks to Karen, who nods with a grateful smile. "We'd love for you to come, Sponge Bob," she says. "We can all help each other understand." Plankton's gaze immediately falls on a biology book that's been lying on the coffee table, half open to a page about jellyfish. His antennae start twitching rapidly, and he picks it up with a new found interest. "Look, Karen," he says, his voice filled with excitement as he points to a picture of a jellyfish. "Jellyfish." Karen nods. "Yes, Plankton," she says gently. "That's a jellyfish." Plankton opens the book wider, eye scanning the pages with a fervor that was almost palpable. His antennae quivered with excitement as he absorbed every piece of information he could find about jellyfish. It was as if he had found a new obsession, a puzzle to solve that could potentially drown out the cacophony of the world around him. "Jellyfish," he murmurs to himself, his eye scanning the text. "Jellyfish sting. Jellyfish pretty." Sponge Bob's curiosity peaks, and he leans over to look at the page Plankton is fixated on. "Jellyfish, huh?" He says, his voice soft so as not to disturb Plankton's focus. Karen nods. "It's like he's trying to make sense of everything again," she explains. "It's one of his special interests now." Sponge Bob nods. Karen watches as Plankton traces the outline of a jellyfish with his hand. "It's called hyper fixation," she explains. "It's when extremely focused on something to the point where it's almost all he can think about." Sponge Bob nods thoughtfully. "Well, Plankton I see you like the book of jellyfish?" Plankton nods, his antennae still quivering with excitement. "Jellyfish book," he murmurs, his eye never leaving the page. Sponge Bob nods, a smile spreading across his face. "I can see you really love jellyfish, Plankton," he says, trying to keep the conversation flowing.

A JOURNEY TO AUTISM iii (Autistic author) Inside, she sets him down on their favorite couch, the one with the frayed edges and the squeaky spring that always reminded them of their first date. The room is cluttered with half-finished inventions and plans for Krabby Patty heists. She sits beside him. The silence stretches on, heavier than a net full of anchovies. Plankton's antennas twitch, his eye darting around the room, taking in the chaos. Karen's mind is racing, wondering if he recognizes any of it, if it brings back any memories of their life together. "Home," he murmurs, his voice filled with uncertainty. The room feels smaller, more cramped than she remembered, as if the walls are closing in on them. "Do you like it here?" she asks, trying to gauge his reaction. He looks around, his antennas moving slightly as he processes his surroundings. "Home," he says again, his voice a mix of curiosity and confusion. The room is a jumble of wires, gadgets, and half-eaten chum sticks. Karen's with tears as she realizes how much she's taken for granted their life together. She had always loved Plankton's quirks and his boundless energy, but now his mind seemed to be stuck in a loop, unable to move beyond the basic functions of acknowledgment. "Home," Plankton says again, his antennas drooping. "Home with Karen." The repetition of the words stirs something within Karen. Echolalia, the doctor had called it, a common trait in those with autism. It was Plankton's way of trying to understand the world around him, to find comfort in familiar words and phrases. "Yes," she whispers, her throat tight with emotion. "This is our home." The room seems to shrink around them as Plankton's echolalic chant of "home with Karen" repeats in a soothing loop. Each time he says it, Karen feels a pang of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he was finding comfort in the simplicity of their life together. "Home with Karen," he says again, his antennas slightly more animated. Karen nods, brimming with tears. "Yes, Plankton, we're home." But she sees a flicker of distress in his eye. "Sponge Bob," he whispers, his antennas quivering with urgency. "Where's Sponge Bob?" Karen's heart squeezes at the mention of him. "Sponge Bob's not here right now," she says, choosing her words carefully. "But he'll come to visit." Plankton's antennas shoot up, his eye wide. "Sponge Bob," he repeats, his voice gaining strength. "Friend. Need Sponge Bob." The desperation in his tone is heart-wrenching, and Karen knows she needs to act fast to soothe his anxiety. "Ok, ok," she says, her voice calm. "Let's call Sponge Bob." Karen picks up the phone, her hands shaking slightly as she dials the familiar number. The phone rings once, twice, before it's answered by a cheerful voice. "Karen?" Sponge Bob's voice sounds surprised but concerned. "Is everything ok?" Karen takes a deep breath, trying to keep her voice steady. "It's Plankton," she says. "He's asking for you to come over." There's a pause on the other end of the line. "Plankton? But we're... I mean?" Sponge Bob's voice is filled with confusion. Karen's with desperation as she watches Plankton rock back and forth on the couch, his chant growing louder. "Sponge Bob. Need Sponge Bob." "Please, Sponge Bob," she pleads, her voice cracking. Sponge Bob's voice on the other end of the line softens. "Of course, Karen. I'll be right over." The line goes dead, and Karen hangs up the phone, feeling a tiny spark of hope. Plankton's cries for Sponge Bob have become more insistent, his rocking more pronounced. She gently places a hand on his shoulder, trying to soothe him. "Sponge Bob's coming, Plankton," she says, her voice steady. "He'll be here soon." Plankton's rocking slows, his antennas drooping slightly. "Sponge Bob," he whispers, his eye searching hers. "Safe." The word hangs in the air, and Karen realizes that despite his confusion, he feels comfort in Sponge Bob's presence. A few moments later, they hear the telltale sound of bubbles popping against the glass, and a knock on the door. With a tremble, Karen stands and opens it to reveal Sponge Bob, looking slightly nervous but determined. "Hi, Plankton!" he exclaims. Plankton's antennas shoot up at the sound of his name, and he whips his head around to face the door. "Sponge Bob!" he shouts, his eye lighting up with an unmistakable joy. Sponge Bob steps into the room. "Sponge Bob!" he exclaims, his voice a mix of excitement and relief. He lunges forward, wrapping his tiny arms around the larger sponge in an embrace. Sponge Bob looks surprised but quickly returns the hug, his spongy form enveloping Plankton completely. "Plankton, what's going on?" he asks, his eyes wide with concern. He's never seen Plankton like this. Plankton pulls back, his expression a jumble of emotions. "Sponge Bob," he says again, his voice filled with affection. He grabs Sponge Bob's hand and tugs him closer. "Home with Karen. Need you." Sponge Bob looks to Karen, his eyes filled with uncertainty, but she nods encouragingly. "It's ok," she says. "He's just happy you're here." The sight of Plankton's excited state brings a smile to Sponge Bob's face, despite his confusion. He sits down next to him on the couch, his own excitement growing. "What do you want to do?" Sponge Bob asks, his voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. Plankton's antennas twitch as he thinks, his eye darting around the room. "Let's play a game," he suddenly exclaims, his voice filled with a child-like excitement that hadn't been there before. "What kind of game, Plankton?" Karen asks, eager to encourage his newfound energy. "Chess!" he exclaims, pointing to a dusty board in the corner of the room. Sponge Bob's eyes widen with surprise, but he doesn't hesitate. He leaps up from the couch and wipes the dust from the board with his spongy hand, setting up the pieces with surprising efficiency. Karen watches from the sidelines, her heart swelling with love and hope as Plankton's enthusiasm grows. He moves the pieces with a frenetic energy, his eye alight with a joy she hadn't seen since before the accident. Sponge Bob, ever the optimist, matches his excitement, even though he's clearly outmatched by Plankton's strategic mind. "Checkmate!" Plankton cries out, his antennas waving with each word. Sponge Bob's expression is a mix of surprise and admiration. "Wow, Plankton, you're really good at this!" The room echoes with Plankton's laughter, a sound that's both familiar and foreign to Karen's ears. The old Plankton would have gloated. "Checkmate," he says again, his antennas bobbing in excitement. "Checkmate, checkmate." Sponge Bob laughs, a wonderful, genuine laugh that fills the room. "You win, Plankton," he says, his hands clapping together. Plankton's antennas stop twitching for a moment, and he looks at Sponge Bob, his eye studying the sponge's reaction. "Win," he repeats, a hint of understanding in his voice. "Win at chess." He claps like SpongeBob. Sponge Bob's eyes light up, seeing the connection. "Yes, Plankton, you won the chess game," he says, his voice soothing. "You're really good at it." Plankton's antennas start to twitch again, his eye darting between the board and Sponge Bob. "Win," he murmurs, his voice filled with a newfound sense of pride. "Win with Sponge Bob." The phrase becomes a chant, his brain finding solace in the repetition. "Win with Sponge Bob, win with Sponge Bob." Sponge Bob smiles warmly, picking up the rhythm of Plankton's words. "Yes, Plankton," he says, his voice soothing. "You won the game. You're a great chess player." Plankton's antennas quiver, his eye locking onto Sponge Bob's. "Great chess player," he echoes, his voice a mix of pride and amazement. "Win with Sponge Bob." Karen watches from the sidelines with hope. Maybe, just maybe, this was the breakthrough they needed. Sponge Bob's presence was calming him, bringing out a side of Plankton she hadn't seen since the accident.

NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON iii (Autistic author) "Now let's go to the living room and I'll go pick up a smoothie for you. Can you stay here by yourself?" He nodded, his expression slightly less tense. "I'll be back soon," she assured him, squeezing his shoulder before leaving the Chum Bucket. Just moments later, Karen's friend Hanna came for a surprise visit. She knew Karen had a husband named Plankton, but she never met him. Plankton was now back on the living room couch. "Oh, you must be Plankton!" Hanna exclaimed. Plankton's eye flitted to her, his expression unreadable. Hanna walked over to the couch, her smile wide and genuine. "It's so nice to finally meet you," she said, embracing him in a hug. Plankton stiffened, his eye wide with surprise. His body tensed, his mind racing to process this new sensory input. "You ok?" Hanna asked, pulling back slightly. She had noticed his reaction but didn't know the reason behind it. Plankton nodded, his eye darting around the room again. He wasn't used to such spontaneous affection, and the unexpected sensation of Hanna's arms around him had thrown him off balance. "Yes, I am Plankton," he murmured, his voice monotone. He wasn't quite sure how to respond. Hanna's smile didn't waver, unaware of the turmoil within his mind. "How are you feeling today?" Plankton's gaze flicked to the ceiling, his mind racing to find the right words. "Today, feeling," he echoed, his voice still a whisper. The repetition was a comfort, a way to process the flood of sensory information that assaulted him continuously. Hanna looked at him with a puzzled expression. "You know, your wife Karen tells me you're an inventor," she said, her tone innocently curious. Plankton's eye locked onto hers, his mind racing to understand the context of her words. "Inventor," he repeated, his voice flat. It was a word he knew, but it felt foreign now, as if it belonged to someone else. "Yes, inventor," Hanna said, nodding enthusiastically. "I've heard so much about your gadgets and contraptions. What are you working on these days?" Plankton's eye flitted around the room again, his mind struggling to grasp the concept of 'working'. "Gadgets, contraptions," he murmured, his voice a broken record. Hanna's expression was one of confusion, her smile beginning to fade. "Well, what do you do all day?" she prodded gently, trying to coax him out of his silence. Plankton's reply was immediate and robotic, "Do, all day, all day." Hanna's brow furrowed, uncertain how to interpret his repetitive response. She had known Karen for years, but Plankton's behavior was unlike anything she had ever heard of her friend's husband. "Do you like the beach?" she asked, hoping to engage him in conversation. Plankton's eye blinked slowly, his mind processing the question. "Beach," he echoed, his voice hollow. Hanna nodded, encouraged by his response. "Yes, the beach! It's such a beautiful place. Do you ever go there?" Plankton's gaze shifted to the window, the memory of sand and surf a distant whisper. "Go, beach, beautiful place," he said, his words a stuttered echo of hers. Hanna's smile dimmed slightly. This wasn't the witty banter she was expecting from Karen's husband. "Is there anything you'd like to talk about?" she asked, uncertain. Plankton's eye moved to hers, his gaze intense. "Talk," he repeated, his voice a whisper. Hanna felt a twinge of discomfort. Something was off about his responses, but she couldn't quite put her tentacle on what it was. "Well, what do you like to do for fun?" she tried again, her tone tentative. Plankton's eye wandered back to his own hand, fidgeting with his fingers. "Do, fun," he murmured, the words a reflexive response to the question. Hanna's eyes narrowed slightly. "What do you do for fun?" she clarified, wondering if he had simply misunderstood. Plankton's gaze remained on his fidgeting hand, his mind racing to connect the concept of 'fun' with his new reality. "Do, fun," he repeated, his voice devoid of the mirth he once expressed so freely. Hanna's smile was now forced, her confusion growing with each interaction. "Plankton, can you tell me what you enjoy doing?" she asked, hoping for a clearer response. He looked up at her, his gaze slightly less focused than before. "Enjoy doing," he repeated, his voice a faint echo. Hanna's twitched with concern. "You know, like hobbies or interests," she prompted gently, trying to keep her voice light. Plankton's eye moved back to his fidgeting hand, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and sensory overload. "Hobbies, interests," he murmured, his voice a hollow echo. Hanna's concern was now clear on her screen. "You know, like things you like to do in your free time," she tried again, her voice a little less bright. Plankton's eye latched onto hers. "Free time," he repeated, his voice a monotone. "Like to do." Hanna's eyes widened slightly, her confusion growing with each word he said. "Yes, exactly," she nodded, her voice a little more cautious now. "What do you like to do in your free time? Well, other than repetition.." She awkwardly laughs as she elbows him multiple times, not knowing how her touch is irritating Plankton. Plankton's getting more frustrated/angry now, as Hanna goes to pat his shoulder. He can't take much more now. Hanna's touch was like a brand, searing his already overwhelmed senses. He flinched away, his body rigid with tension. "Plankton, are you ok?" Hanna asked, her voice filled with concern. She noticed his discomfort but couldn't pinpoint the cause. He nodded slightly, his expression unreadable. "Ok, ok," he mumbled, his voice still a monotone. Hanna looked at him with concern, her smile slipping. "Karen said you used to be quite the conversationalist. What happened?" She says, grabbing his elbow; but that's the last straw for Plankton. Plankton's eye snapped up to hers, his voice sharp. "What happened? You happened!" He snapped, his words sharp as a knife. The sudden aggression in his tone was like a slap in the face, catching Hanna off guard. She took a step back. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." she began, but Plankton was on a roll now. "You don't know what happened!" his voice grew louder, his words quickening with each syllable. "You don't know anything!" Hanna's eyes went wide with shock. This was not the Plankton Karen had described. Her arms flailed in the air as she tried to placate his sudden anger. "I'm sorry, Plankton. I just didn't know..."

CATCH IN MY CHIP iii (Autistic author) They sit in silence for a few moments, Chip's screen glued to his dad's still form. The only sound is the steady rhythm of Plankton's shallow breathing. As the minutes tick by, Chip's thoughts swirl with confusion and guilt. He had no idea that his dad's quirks and sensitivities were part of something so complex. He'd just thought Plankton was easily annoyed or tired. Karen notices his son's distress and decides it's time to explain more. "You know how sometimes you get really excited about something, and you just can't keep it in?" she asks. Chip nods. "Yeah, like when I see a new toy or when I've got a great idea for a sandcastle." "Well, for Dad, it's like that all the time," Karen continues. "Every little thing can be a big deal, and sometimes it's just too much." She pauses, looking at Plankton with a mix of love and concern. "But he's also the smartest person I know, and he loves you so much. That's what's important." Chip nods, his eyes filling with tears as he watches his mom care for his dad. He'd always felt a bit left out, not understanding why Plankton would sometimes retreat from the world. But now he gets it. It's not that his dad didn't want to share in his excitement, it's just that sometimes, the world was too much for him. "Mom, I'm sorry," he whispers, his throat tight with emotion. "I didn't mean to make him... like this." Karen pulls him into a warm embrace. "You didn't do anything wrong, Chip. This isn't your fault. Dad's brain just works differently. And now that we know, we can help each other understand." Chip sniffles against her, his thoughts racing. "Does he know what's happening or can he understand us?" "Sometimes he can," Karen says, her voice low and soothing. "But right now, I don't think he realizes anything's happening around him." "What if he doesn't wake up?" The fear in his voice is palpable. "He will, honey," Karen says, her tone reassuring. "It just takes a little time. It's like when you're really tired and you need a nap. His brain needs to rest." The room is quiet except for the occasional sound of the air conditioner kicking in, a stark contrast to the excitement that had filled it just moments ago. Chip watches his dad, feeling a wave of emotion wash over him. He wants to laugh and share more stories, but he knows now that his dad's brain needs a break. As they wait, Karen starts to clean up the mess Chip made. The sand and papers scattered across the floor seem so trivial now, a stark reminder of the chaos his enthusiasm can create for his dad. He helps her, carefully picking up each piece, placing them back into their rightful spots. His mind is racing with thoughts of how to be a better son, how to make sure his dad doesn't feel like this again. They work in silence, the only sounds the rustling of papers and the occasional clank of a metal item being set back on the desk. The room slowly transforms back to its usual state of order, a stark contrast to the turmoil Plankton was experiencing. Chip's eyes never leave his dad, hoping to see any sign of improvement. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Plankton's eye blinks, and the tension in the room shifts. His breathing becomes deeper and more regular. Karen's shoulders relax as she sees the first signs of Plankton coming back to himself. She gives Chip's hand a gentle squeeze. "Look, honey. He's starting to come out of it." Chip stares, hope filling his chest. Plankton's antennas twitch slightly. He blinks a few more times, as if trying to bring the room into focus. "What... what happened?" His voice is weak, almost a whisper. Karen's grip tightens on Chip's hand. "You just needed a little break, sweetie," she says softly. "It's okay."

GREAT CHIP iii (Autistic author) Karen followed, her screen on her husband's tentative steps. "Chip," she called out softly, knocking gently. "Can we come in?" There was no immediate response, just the faint sound of sniffling. "It's ok, sweetie," she said. "Your dad and I want to talk to you." Slowly, the door cracked open, and Chip's tear-stained screen peeked out. His eyes searched theirs, looking for answers, for reassurance. Plankton's heart twisted at the sight. He had never wanted to cause his son any pain, especially not like this. He felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over him as he stepped into the room, his every move feeling clumsy and exposed. "Chip," he began, his voice strained, "It's just..." Plankton's words trailed off, his gaze flitting around the room as if searching for the right ones. The air felt thick with tension. Chip looked up at him, his eyes swollen with unshed tears. "Dad, I'm sorry," he managed to say, his voice thick with emotion. But Plankton's anger hadn't subsided entirely. "You shouldn't have touched me," he snapped, his voice sharp, his frustration still palpable. "You now know better than that!" Chip flinched at his father's tone, his own eyes brimming with tears. "But Dad, I didn't mean to," he protested. Plankton's gaze was unyielding. "You should know better!" he insisted, his voice echoing with accusation. "You're not a baby anymore!" Chip's eyes fell to the floor, his shoulders shaking with held-back sobs. "But I didn't know!" he choked out, his voice small and defensive. "Well, now you do," Plankton said firmly, his eye still avoiding Chip's. "You have to respect my space!" The room felt too small, his emotions too big. Chip's face crumpled, his voice barely audible. "I just wanted to..." But Plankton's anger was like a storm, unyielding. "I don't care what you wanted!" he shouted. "You can't just touch me like that!" The room felt like it was closing in, his heart racing faster with each word. He saw the hurt on Chip's face, but his own emotions were a tornado whipping through his thoughts. He couldn't stop, couldn't apologize. "It's your fault for not knowing!" Plankton's voice was like thunder, filling the room with accusation. Karen's eyes grew wide with shock, but she didn't dare to interrupt. Chip's sobs grew louder, his body shaking with the weight of his father's wrath. "But I didn't know, Dad," he pleaded, his voice thick with pain. Plankton's eye was like a stone, his words cutting through the air. "That's no excuse!" he bellowed. "You should've learned by now! Or are you just to busy with your silly games and neurotypical friends to care about your own father?" Chip's shoulders shook as he tried to hold back his sobs. He didn't know what to say, his mind a jumble of emotions. All he knew was that he had hurt his dad, and now his dad was hurt and mad at him. "Dad, I'm sorry," he whispered again, his voice trembling. "It was an accident, I didn't know!" But Plankton's anger didn't abate. "Accident or not, you should've known better!" Plankton's voice grew louder, his words piercing the air like knives. "You're not a baby anymore, so don't act like one!" Chip felt his world crumbling. He didn't mean to upset Dad, but he didn't know what to do. He just wanted to help, to show his love, but it all went wrong. "But Dad," he tried again, his voice barely a whisper, "I didn't mean to..." "I DON'T CARE!" Plankton roared, his anger a living, breathing entity that filled the room. His words were sharp, like shards of glass in the air. Chip's sobs grew louder, his heart breaking with each accusation. He didn't understand why his dad was so mad at him. "I'm sorry," he choked, his voice barely audible. "I didn't know..." Plankton's anger didn't waver. "You never know!" he spat. "You never pay attention!" His words were like a whip, each one stinging Chip's already bruised heart. "You think the world revolves around you!" Chip's eyes were a pool of tears, his body trembling as he tried to find the right words. "But Dad, I just..." Plankton's anger grew with each of Chip's stumbling attempts. "You just what?" he snarled, his senses overwhelmed by the emotional turmoil. He felt the urge to break something, anything to release the pressure building in his chest. With a roar, he swiped his hand across Chip's desk, sending papers flying and toys clattering to the floor. "DO YOU SEE?" he yelled, his voice shaking the walls. "DO YOU SEE HOW YOU MAKE ME FEEL?" Chip cowered, his eyes locked on the chaos, his mind whirling. He hadn't meant to make his dad feel like this. He didn't understand why his curiosity was so wrong. "I'm sorry," he whispered again, his voice tiny and lost in the maelstrom of Plankton's rage. Plankton's eye was wild, his movements erratic. He knew his anger was a storm, but he couldn't stop it. The room spun around him, his thoughts a jumbled mess. He felt a hand on his arm, Karen's voice cutting through the noise in his head. "Plankton, please," she begged. But he shrugged her off, his rage now a living, breathing monster inside of him. He picked up a toy, one of Chip's beloved creations, and threw it across the room. It shattered against the wall, the sound piercing the silence that followed. Chip's sobs grew quieter, his body trembling with fear. "This," Plankton said, his voice low and dangerous, "is what you do to me." He picked up another toy, his hand shaking with anger. "This is what your curiosity does!" Chip's eyes widened with fear as Plankton's hand arced back, ready to hurl it. But as the toy could leave his grip, his body seized up again, his legs buckling. Another absence seizure had struck. Karen's heart raced as she watched her husband's uncontrolled movements. She knew she had to intervene before things escalated. She rushed to Plankton's side, grabbing his arm to steady him. "Stop," she whispered urgently. Chip's sobs grew quieter, his eyes wide with fear. He had never seen his dad so out of control before. Plankton's seizure was taking over, his body betraying him once again. Karen's voice pierced the chaos, a beacon of calm. "Chip, let me handle this." Her son nodded, his eyes never leaving his dad's shaky form. Karen turned to Plankton's form, supporting. "Come on," she said firmly, guiding his trembling form to their own bedroom. "Let's sit down, okay?" As they do, Plankton's still caught in the throes of the seizure. Chip felt like he was watching a stranger, his dad's body twitching uncontrollably. He didn't know what to do.

SHELF IMPROVEMENT iii (Autistic author) As the minutes ticked by, Plankton's trembling subsided. He looked up at her, his antennae still twitching slightly. "Sorry," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "Plankton sorry Karen." This wasn't like him. Plankton had his quirks, sure, but this was something else entirely. It was as if the fall had shaken something loose in his mind, revealing a part of him she had never seen before. Her arms tightened around his slight frame, and she pressed her screen to his forehead. "Don't be sorry," she whispered. "You're scared, and that's okay." Plankton nodded, his single eye squeezing shut as if to hold in his fear. He leaned into her embrace, his body finally going limp. Karen felt his wetness on her neck, and realized he was crying. "It's okay," she whispered again, her voice the only sound in the silent room. "You're safe with me." Plankton's antennae stilled against her, and she felt his breathing grow calmer. The quiet was unusual for their home, but in this moment, it was a welcome balm. Her mind raced, trying to recall any signs she might have missed, any indication that Plankton was suffering from something deeper than the physical trauma of the fall. Was this a sudden onset of a condition? Or had it been there all along, masked by his quirks and his usual bravado? "Karen," Plankton murmured again, his eye squeezed shut. "Karen Plankton." "It's okay," she soothed. "You're okay." But the silence grew louder, and she knew it was more than just the quiet of their usual bickering. This was a new Plankton, one she wasn't sure how to reach. His repetition of her name was like a mantra, a lifeline to the world he knew. Karen held him closer, her own eyes now brimming with tears. They had been through so much together, and she had always been his anchor, the one constant in his life. But now, she felt adrift, uncertain of how to navigate these uncharted waters. Plankton's grip around her tightened, his breath hitching in sobs. His muttered repeating of her name grew louder, almost frantic. "Karen, Karen, Karen..." It was like he was stuck in a loop, his mind unable to comprehend the sudden change around him. "Shh," she soothed, stroking his back. "It's okay, we're here, together." Plankton's repetition of her name grew more frantic. "Karen, Karen, Karen," he chanted, his voice rising in pitch. "It's okay, Plankton," she said, her voice steady despite her internal turmoil. "Everything's going to be okay." But his chanting continued, growing louder and more desperate. She knew she couldn't just sit here forever, she had to do something. But what? Her mind raced, thinking of all the times Plankton had fixed her when she was broken. Now it was her turn. She had to find a way to reach him. "Plankton," she whispered, her voice steady despite the tremor in her chest. "Look at me." She gently lifted his chin so he was forced to meet her screen. "You're okay, we're together." His eye searched hers, desperation clear in its depths. The chanting of her name grew softer, but didn't cease. Karen's mind raced, trying to think of anything that could help him snap out of this state. "Remember the chum?" she said, her voice trembling slightly. "The time we had a picnic and the seagulls came?" Plankton's chanting paused for a moment, and his eye flickered with recognition. It was a memory from their early days, a moment of shared joy amidst their usual bickering. "Chum," he murmured, his antennae twitching slightly. "Seagulls." Karen's screen lit up with hope. It was a start, a crack in the facade of his fear. "Yes, the seagulls," she said, smiling through her tears. "Remember how we laughed when they stole our sandwiches?" Plankton's antennae twitched again, and a tiny smile graced his lips. "Seagulls," he repeated, his voice a little less shaky. Encouraged, Karen pressed on. "And remember how we chased them together?" Plankton's smile grew slightly, and his antennae moved a bit more naturally. "Chased," he agreed, his voice still wobbly but with a hint of his usual spirit. Karen felt a wave of relief wash over her. He was remembering, engaging with her. "Yes, we chased them, and we got the chum back," she said, trying to keep the conversation going. Plankton's antennae moved slightly, and he nodded, his eye focusing more clearly on her. "Chum," he murmured, his voice stronger now. "Good chum." Karen took a deep, shaky breath, fighting the tears that threatened to fall. She had to keep him grounded, keep him with her. "Yes," she said, her voice determined, "good chum." Plankton's antennae stilled, and he took a deep, ragged breath. "Karen," he said, his voice a little stronger. "Chum." Karen's eyes searched his, seeing the flicker of the man she knew. "Yes, Plankton, chum." The room remained silent, except for the sound of Plankton's deepening breaths. The word "chum" seemed to have a calming effect on his agitated state. He repeated it to himself, his antennae finally stilling. Karen watched him, relief and sadness mingling within her. This was a side of Plankton she had never seen before, a raw vulnerability that made her ache. He was like a lost child, seeking comfort in familiar words. "Chum," he murmured once more, his eye shutting. Karen nodded. "Yes, chum," she said, her voice soothing. Plankton's body relaxed in her arms, his breathing evening out. For a moment, the room remained still, save for the steady rhythm of his breath. But then, his antennae began to move again, not with fear this time, but with something else. It was almost as if his mind was racing, trying to process the world around him. Karen felt his grip on her loosen, his body shifting slightly in the couch cushions. "Plankton?" she asked, her voice tentative. He didn't respond, but his eye fluttered open, his gaze focused on a spot on the wall. "Looks like he's in a trance," Karen thought aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. "What's going on with you?" Plankton's antennae twitched rapidly, as if trying to capture invisible signals. His face was a mask of concentration, his body tense and poised like he was ready to flee. Karen felt a cold wave of understanding wash over her. This wasn't just fear or confusion, it was something deeper. She scanned his brain, and then she saw the results. "Oh, Plankton," she breathed. He had developed autism. The fall had triggered something within his brain, irreversible damage to. She felt a mix of shock and sorrow, but also a fierce determination to support him. "Autism. You're autistic now." He looked at her, his eye blinking in understanding. "Autism," he echoed. "Different." Karen nodded. "Yes, but you're still my Plankton." Plankton's expression was a jumble of emotions. Recognition, fear, confusion, and a tiny spark of hope. "Different," he repeated. "But... same?" Karen nodded, squeezing his hand. "Different, but still my Plankton." She swiped at her tears, determined to be strong for him. "We'll get through this, I promise." Plankton looked at her with a mix of relief and fear. "Karen... love." Karen felt love and pain. "I love you, Plankton," she whispered, her voice shaking. "We'll get through this together." Plankton's antennae stopped twitching for a moment, and he squeezed her hand. "Together," he repeated, his voice small but firm. Karen nodded, swiping at her tears. "We'll face this together, I promise. Now, it's late; let's get to sleep.." She cleaned up the remnants of the shelf.

AUTISM IN THE PLANKTON FAMILY iii (Autistic author) Karen picked him up, and carried his limp form to his bed. She stood there for a moment, watching his chest rise and fall. The snores grew quieter as sleep consumed him. The weight of what had just happened settled on her shoulders. Karen lay him down gently. She tucked him in, his antennae resting against the pillow. The room was quiet except for his soft snores, a stark contrast to the chaos that had filled it moments before. Karen sat by his side, her hand on his arm. After a few moments, she stood up and walked to the door, closing it gently behind her. She found Hanna in the living room, her eyes red-rimmed and worried. "Hanna, I need to talk to you," Karen said, her voice firm but not accusing. Hanna looked up, her expression hopeful for guidance. Karen sat beside her, her eyes on her own hands, which were fidgeting in her lap. "Plankton's been through a lot," she began, her voice measured. "He's different now." Hanna nodded, her eyes wide with unspoken questions. "Still coming to terms with it but you're just fine. It's a rarity, yet he'll be fine." "I guess I'll head out. I never meant to cause Plankton distress." Karen nodded, her eyes still on her fidgeting hands. "Thank you for understanding. I'm pretty sure he knows you didn't mean to, but I can still tell him when he wakes up." Hanna left, and Karen went back to the bedroom. Plankton was still asleep, his breathing steady and peaceful. Karen sat by the bed. Plankton's snores were the only sound in the room, a gentle reminder of the peace that sleep brought him from his tumultuous world of heightened senses. Karen took a deep breath, her thoughts racing. This was their new normal, a dance of understanding and patience they would have to learn. When Plankton next woke up, his eye searched the room, his antennae twitching slightly. He looked over to find Karen sitting in a chair beside the bed, her gaze on him. "Hi," she said, her voice gentle. He sat up slowly, the fabric of the bed rustling beneath his weight. "How are you feeling?" Karen's concern was palpable, her eyes scanning his face for any signs of distress. Plankton took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts. Karen's presence was a balm to his soul, her understanding a lifeline in the storm of sensory input. "Where's Hanna?" Karen sighed, her gaze never leaving his face. "She left, sweetie. You were a bit...overwhelmed." Plankton nodded, his antennae twitching with the memory of the sensory assault. "It's okay," Karen assured him, her voice a soft whisper. "She just didn't understand, and felt bad for the way she treated you." Plankton nodded, his antennae still. The room was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos from before. He took a moment to collect himself, his thoughts racing. "Sorry," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. Karen reached out and took his hand, her grip firm but gentle. "You have nothing to apologize for," she said, her tone soothing. "This is all new to us. Would you like to eat?" Plankton nodded. "I'll get you something quiet and simple," Karen said, standing up. She knew that too much stimulation could send him spiraling. In the kitchen, she prepared a snack of plain crackers. She placed the plate on the table carefully, not wanting to startle his heightened senses again. Plankton entered the room, his movements deliberate and slow. He sat down across from her, his eye darting around the room. "It's ok," Karen reassured him, handing him the plate of crackers. "Just food." "Just food. It's ok; just food." He repeats back to himself, focusing on the plate. Each cracker was a tiny square of safety, a familiar comfort in a sea of sensory uncertainty. He took a deep breath and selected one. The taste was comforting, a reminder of a simpler time. Karen watched him, her screen filled with love. Plankton took a sip of water, his eye never leaving hers. "It's ok just food," he said again, his voice still low. "Karen good and good food. It's ok." Karen nodded, her smile a mix of relief and sadness. She knew his echolalic tendencies was the autism, but she's glad he likes the food as well. They sat in silence, the only sound the crunch of crackers and the occasional sip of water. Plankton's eye focused on the cracker in his hand, the patterns on the surface a comfort. His autistic brain craved the predictability, the sameness that calmed his nerves. This was the man she knew, yet he was different. The Plankton who was always plotting and scheming was now one who found comfort in the mundane. His mind felt clearer now, the overwhelming chaos of the earlier encounter with Hanna beginning to fade. Karen watched him, her heart breaking for the silent struggle she knew he faced every moment. "I'll talk to Hanna," she said gently. "I'll explain. What do you want me to tell her? What'd you like for her to know?" Plankton's gaze remained on the cracker, his thumb tracing the edge. "Tell her sorry," he mumbled. "What else? I mean, is it ok if I tell her you're autistic now? Or what about the accident that lead to the autism?" Plankton's antennae twitched at the word 'accident', his mind reeling with memories of the stove, the fight with Mr. Krabs, the pain. But he nodded slowly. "Ok," he murmured. Karen's heart ached at the simplicity of his response. The complexity of his thoughts was now a tightly guarded secret, hidden behind a wall of sensory overload. "Okay, I will," Karen said, her voice soft. "But remember, it's ok to be different." Plankton nodded, his eye still on his food. But as he took another cracker, he paused. He looked up, his gaze locking with hers. "Karen," he said, his voice a little stronger now. "I, I l-love you." Karen's eyes widened at the sudden declaration. "Oh, Plankton," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I love you too." Plankton nodded, his gaze never leaving hers. "Karen making everything okay," he murmured. He took another cracker, his hands shaking slightly. "You make Plankton feel safe," he continues with sincerity. "In a world that's too much, Karen not too much." Karen's eyes filled with tears at his heartfelt words. She reached across the table and took his hand. "Plankton, I'm here for you. Always." Plankton's antennae stopped twitching. He looked into her screen, his own filled with a depth of emotion that hadn't seen before. "You good, Karen," he said, his voice steady. "Helping Plankton." Plankton was finding his way to express himself, to connect with her in a way that was meaningful. She squeezed his hand. "I'll always help you," she promised. "Karen," Plankton began, his voice tentative. He took a deep breath, trying to find the words. "I love you, Karen," he said finally, his eye intense with feeling. Karen swelled with love and pride. Despite his struggles, Plankton was learning to express his emotions in a way that made sense to him. It was a victory, small but significant. "Thank you, Plankton," she said, squeezing his hand. "Your love makes me happy." His antennae twitched slightly, a sign of his awkwardness with the emotional exchange. The room was quiet, the only noise the soft sound of their breathing and the occasional crunch of a cracker. Plankton's eye searched hers, looking for reassurance. "Plankton need...space," he managed, his voice shaky. "Too...much emotional interaction. Still love." Karen nodded, understanding dawning. "Okay, sweetie," she said, releasing his hand. "I'll be right here. Take all the time you need."

CHIP AND FAIL iii (Autistic author) "Ok Dad," he said. "Let's go to your workshop." Maybe there, he would be able to come back to himself. But Plankton's not budging, despite Chip's efforts to get him up. "Come on," he said, his voice gentle, trying to mask his own fear. "Let's go." But he sees it's not gonna work. He hadn't realized that his excited touches and loud laughter were only making things worse. Plankton's condition meant that even the smallest disruption could send him spiraling, and here Chip was, bombarding him with sensations. With a tremble in his voice, Chip tried one more time to reach his father. "Dad, can you just come with me?" He asked, his voice small and hopeful. "We'll talk in the workshop." But Plankton still didn't move, his eye fixed on some unseen horizon. Chip stood up, wiping the tears from his screen, trying to listen for his dad's breathing. Chip doesn't like this. Chip's face crumpled, realizing that his dad isn't okay. This was chilling. The more Chip talked, the more he touched, the deeper Plankton's mind spun into a vortex of overstimulation. "Dad, you're not talking," Chip whispered, his voice cracking with concern. He had never seen his father like this, so silent and still. He didn't know that the affectionate gestures and loud stories were only adding to Plankton's distress. "Dad, please," Chip said, his voice small. This wasn't right. This is wrong. Something is very wrong with his dad. Chip's eyes filled with tears, his mind racing with fear and confusion. Something's wrong with his dad. "Dad, you're not okay," Chip said, his voice filled with a new urgency. But now, he knew it was something more, something he didn't know how to fix. But he needs to try. "Can you tell me about your week too?" Absolutely no sign of life from him. This is bad. He's getting worse... Chip didn't know that Plankton's lack of response was due to his autism, that his sensory system was in overdrive. All he knew was that he needed to help, to do something. With a tremble in his hands, Chip gently touched Plankton's shoulder. "Dad, can you hear me?" He asked, his voice soft and soothing, hoping to cut through the storm in his father's mind. But Plankton's expression remained unchanged, his eye unfocused. Chip felt like he was shouting into a void, his words disappearing without a trace. The room was spinning, the air thinning with each shallow breath Plankton took. Chip's mind raced with scenarios, trying to piece together what could've caused this sudden change. "Is there something wrong?" He asked, his voice quavering. "Did something happen?" But Plankton was lost, the cacophony of Chip's excitement echoing through his overstimulated brain like a never- ending nightmare. Chip's touches grew gentler, his laughter fading into a soft concern. "I don't get it," he said, his voice thick with confusion. "I just wanted to tell you about my week." Plankton felt the pressure but his mind was a maelstrom of sensation. "Dad," Chip said, his voice barely above a whisper, "I don't know what's going on." He nudged him, and he remained still and unblinking as the prod toppled him onto his side, with no reaction. The room felt colder, the air heavier with each passing second. He had never seen his father so unresponsive, so utterly lost to the world around him. "Dad," he tried again, his voice trembling. "You're scaring me." Plankton's eye remained fixed. The gentle touches from Chip were now a maelstrom of sensation, each one a wave crashing against the shore of his overwhelmed mind. Chip's smile faded as he watched his father. "Dad, you're not okay," he murmured, his voice laced with concern. He didn't know about Plankton's condition, how his brain processed stimuli differently, how easily it could be overwhelmed. All he knew was that his dad, the man he looked up to, was trapped in a silent prison of his own making.

THE LIFE OF UNITY iii (Autistic author) Kevin's laughter reaches a crescendo as he takes a step closer to Plankton. "What don't I know?" he asks, his voice sharper than ever. "That PLANKTON JUST. DON'T. WUV. THEM. JELLYFISH. YOU ARE COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY..." But his words are cut off by the sight of Plankton, his antennae drooping, his eye brimming with tears. The tiny creature's body trembles as Kevin's to loud words settle upon him, and suddenly, all the pent-up frustration and pain come rushing out in a torrent as a single tear forms and slides down his face. Plankton's antennae quiver uncontrollably, and he squeaks out a sob, his tiny body convulsing with the weight of Kevin's cruel words. SpongeBob is shocked. Kevin's words hang in the water, his laughter fading into an awkward silence as he watches Plankton's reaction. The sea cucumber's eyes widen as he takes in the sight of Plankton's tears, his own expression morphing from smug to surprise, then to something akin to fear. "Plankton?" Plankton's antennae quiver as he sniffs, trying to compose himself, his monotone voice thick with emotion. "Plankton... brainless," he murmurs, his one eye filled with unshed tears. "Plankton," he adds, his voice cracking, "Plankton... not like jellyfish." Sponge Bob's heart squeezes tight in his chest. "Hey, Plankton," he says softly, "it's ok. Kevin didn't mean it." But Plankton's antennae quiver, his monotone voice echoing Kevin's hurtful words. "Kevin... right," he murmurs, his eye glistening with tears. "Plankton... brainless. Like jellyfish." Kevin's expression morphs from smugness to shock, his eyes wide as he realizes the impact of his words. "It's just... you know, a joke." But Plankton's antennae quiver, his monotone voice trembling. "Joke?" he murmurs. "Plankton... a joke. Plankton... brainless." Kevin's grin falters, his eyes widening in horror as he sees the pain etched on Plankton's tiny face. "No," he stammers, his voice cracking. "It was just a... I didn't mean it like that." But Plankton's antennae continue to quiver, his monotone voice a sad echo of Kevin's cruel words. "Plankton... no purpose in life," he murmurs, his one eye filled with a sadness so profound it seems to suck the color out of the surrounding waters. Sponge Bob's eyes widen in shock. "Plankton," he says gently, "you have friends. You have a purpose." But Plankton's antennae droop even lower, his monotone voice a sad echo of his own self-doubt. "Plankton mindless.." Kevin's smugness evaporates, replaced with a flicker of concern as he watches the usually unflappable Plankton crumple under the weight of his words. "Look, Plankton," he says, reaching out to touch him. But Plankton flinches, his antennae quivering with pain. "Plankton," Kevin says, his voice a mix of surprise and regret, "I didn't mean it like that. I was just messing around." But Plankton's antennae continue to quiver, his monotone voice a sad echo of Kevin's insults. "Mindless," he murmurs, his one eye fixed. "Brainless." Sponge Bob's eyes wide with shock and sadness. "Plankton," he whispers, his voice filled with a tenderness Plankton rarely hears from anyone. "You're not brainless." But Plankton's antennae quiver with doubt, his monotone voice echoing Kevin's words. "Plankton... mindless," he murmurs, his one eye unable to meet Sponge Bob's gaze. "Like jellyfish." SpongeBob knew that Plankton's obsession with jellyfish is more than just a hobby; it's a deep connection, a part of who he is after the traumatic brain injury. And now, Kevin's careless words have struck a nerve, leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable. "Plankton," Sponge Bob says, his voice gentle, "you're not like that. You're smart. You're... you're you." But Plankton's antennae quiver with insecurity, his monotone voice a sad echo of Kevin's words. "Mindless," he murmurs, his one eye still avoiding contact. "Plankton... like jellyfish." SpongeBob understood that the brain trauma has affected him, making him more vulnerable to words that question his intelligence and identity due to his autism. "Plankton," he says, his voice filled with concern, "you know that's not true. You're not like jellyfish in that way." But Plankton's antennae quiver with doubt, his monotone voice a sad echo of Kevin's mockery. "Mindless," he murmurs. "Mindless, brainless." Sponge Bob's heart aches for his friend, reaching out to offer comfort. "Plankton, you're not like that," he says, his voice gentle and assuring. "You're brilliant. You know more about jellyfish than anyone." But Plankton's antennae quiver with insecurity, his monotone voice a sad echo of Kevin's laughter. "Mindless," he murmurs, eye downcast. "Plankton... brainless." Sponge Bob tries to find the right words to say. "Plankton," he says gently, "you're not like that. You're so much more than what Kevin said." But Plankton's antennae quiver, his monotone voice a sad echo of the cruel words. "Mindless," he murmurs, his one eye avoiding Sponge Bob's gaze. "Plankton... no purpose." Kevin's eyes dart from Plankton to Sponge Bob, his grin faltering. "What's going on?" he asks, his voice tight with confusion. "You guys are acting weird." Sponge Bob's embrace tighten around Plankton's tiny body, his voice firm but kind. "Kevin," he says, his gaze fixed on Plankton, "you don't know what happened to Plankton." Kevin's laughter fades into a puzzled look. "What do you mean?" Kevin's smirk fades, his eyes narrowing with confusion. "What are you guys talking about?" he asks, his voice tight. Sponge Bob hesitates, glancing at Plankton, who nods almost imperceptibly. "Kevin," he says, his voice serious, "Plankton had a bad accident. He hit his head, and now he's... different." Kevin's tentacles freeze in mid-air, his smugness evaporating. "What do you mean, 'different'?" he asks, his voice tentative. Sponge Bob sighs. "Plankton's had a brain injury," he says, his eyes never leaving Plankton's quivering antennae. "He's... autistic now." Kevin's eyes widen, his tentacles dropping to his sides. "What? No way," he stammers, his smugness gone. "You're... you're joking, right?" But Sponge Bob's expression is serious, gently stroking Plankton's antennae. "It's true, Kevin," he says, his voice gentle. "Plankton's had a tough time, and he's different now." "Plankton, joke." Kevin's confusion turns to shock as he looks from Sponge Bob to Plankton, his tentacles dropping to his sides. "But... but why didn't you say anything?" he asks, his voice trembling. Sponge Bob's eyes are filled with a mix of sadness and determination. "We didn't think it was anyone's business," he says tightening around Plankton's shaking antennae. "But now you know Kevin. And we need you to be cool about it."

JUST A TOUCH iii (Autistic author) ¦ ᶠˡⁱⁿᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰ Once home, she helped him settle into his favorite chair, his eye scanning the room. Everything was in its place, exactly as he liked it. Karen noticed his breathing slow as the familiarity washed over him. She knew that routine and order could be vital to his comfort now to avoid triggering his anxiety. Then suddenly, Plankton began to rock back and forth. Karen recognized the motion. It was a new behavior, one she hadn't seen before. His body swayed with a rhythm that matched the ticking of the antique clock on the wall. "It's okay, sweetie," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "We're home now." The rocking grew more intense, his eye darting around the room, his antennae vibrating with each back-and-forth movement. Karen's mind raced, trying to remember the doctor's words. Sensory overload. He needed calm. Swiftly, she dimmed the lights, the neon signs from the Krabby Patty franchise across the street casting soothing shadows through the windows. The glow was just enough to illuminate the space without causing further distress, and she watched as Plankton's rocking subsided. She sat by him. She grasped and squeezed his shoulder. But this time, he flinched. "Plankton?" she asked, concern etching her voice. He pulled away from her, his antennae dropping to his side. The doctor had mentioned that some with autism might have heightened sensitivity to touch. Karen felt a knot in her stomach. "What if he doesn't like me touching him anymore?" she thought. "What if I can't comfort him when he's upset?" She decided to test the waters gently. Reaching out, she lightly trailed her finger over his hand. Plankton didn't react. Encouraged, she placed her hand on his shoulder again, this time more softly. He tensed, then relaxed. It was progress. "Let's start with simple touch," she said, her voice soothing. The doctor had mentioned that Plankton might be hypersensitive to certain types of touch, and Karen was determined to navigate this new aspect of their relationship with care. She placed a gentle hand on his knee, and Plankton flinched, his antennae retreating. "It's okay," she whispered, her voice as soothing as a lullaby. "It's just me, Karen." Her hand hovered over his, unsure of the best way to provide comfort. Karen took a deep breath, deciding to try again. This time, she approached with care, her touch feather-light, gliding over his hand like the softest of sea breezes. Plankton's antennae twitched, and his gaze remained on her hand, watching the movement as if it were the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. Gradually, the tension in his body eased, and his hand lifted to meet hers. It was a tentative touch, his fingers brushing against hers, testing the waters. Karen felt a rush of relief. "See, it's okay," she murmured, keeping her voice low and even. Plankton's hand was cold, his grip firm but not painful. His eye locked onto hers, searching for reassurance. Slowly, she began to stroke his hand with her thumb, applying the slightest pressure. His breathing evened out, his antennae rising slightly. Encouraged, she tried a different type of touch—a gentle squeeze. This time, he didn't flinch. Instead, his hand returned the gesture, his own grip matching hers in strength. Karen felt a flicker of hope. "Maybe we can find a way through this," she thought. They sat in silence for a few moments, their hands entwined, as Karen tried to think of the next step. The doctor's words echoed in her mind: find what works for him. Gently, she began to rub his hand, her thumb moving in small, soothing circles. Plankton seemed to find comfort in the predictable pattern, his body unwinding a fraction more. Encouraged, Karen leaned in closer, her other hand reaching out to tap his shoulder. But as soon as her hand made contact with his skin, he jerked away, his eye flashing with fear and pain. "I'm sorry," she said quickly, her heart racing. "I didn't mean to scare you." Plankton stared at her, his expression unreadable. "It's just, sometimes touch feels..." His words trailed off, and Karen felt her own fear rising. "Painful?" she guessed, her voice trembling. Plankton nodded, his antennae drooping. "Some touches are okay, others..." He paused, his eye darting to his hand, which was still wrapped around hers. "It's confusing." Karen nodded, her heart aching for him. She knew she had to be more mindful of his sensory needs. Carefully, she pats his cheek with the back of her hand, the lightest of touches. Plankton's antennae flinched, but he didn't pull away until she put both of her hands on his shoulders. The sudden pressure was too much, like an electric shock. "Karen," he said, his voice tight with discomfort, "too much." Karen nodded, her hands retreating to her lap. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice small. "I didn't mean to..." Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye searching hers. "It's okay, Karen," he said, his voice measured. "But some touches are too much." Karen nodded, her heart heavy. She had so much to learn about this new Plankton, this person she knew so well yet barely knew at all. "I'll be more careful," she promised, squeezing his hand gently. Plankton's gaze remained steady on hers, his expression neutral. "Thank you, Karen," he said, giving her a side hug. This was a Plankton she had never seen before, one who spoke in a staccato rhythm, his movements precise and calculated. Yet, in the safety of their home, Karen saw glimpses of the man she knew. Her eyes fell upon a pamphlet the doctor had given her, titled 'Understanding Neurodivergence'. She picked it up and began to read. The first few pages were dedicated to explaining what it meant to be neurodivergent, how it wasn't an illness but a natural variation in the brain. Plankton's new condition, Acquired Autism, was one of the many spectrums that fell under this umbrella. Karen read through the descriptions of different behaviors, her eyes widening as she recognized some of the changes in Plankton— his need for order, his heightened sensitivity to stimuli, and his newfound obsessions. The pamphlet explained that these were common in individuals with his condition and offered optional suggestions for supporting them. Her gaze fell upon a section titled 'Seizure Protocols'. Karen's eyes widened as she read about the different types of seizures that could occur due to neurodivergence. Some were minor, like staring spells, while others could be more severe. Her heart raced as she thought of Plankton, his body stiffening and shaking. The pamphlet recommended to keep any sharp or harmful objects away from him. It was important not to restrain him, but instead, to gently guide him to the floor if necessary. The next section discussed how to communicate with someone on the spectrum. It suggested using clear, direct language, avoiding sarcasm and idioms. Karen realized that she would have to learn a new way of speaking with Plankton. Her screen skimmed over the pages, absorbing the information like a sponge. The pamphlet highlighted the importance of individuality and diversity, emphasizing that Plankton's brain was not broken, but simply wired differently. This was a concept she had heard of before, but it had never hit so close to home. The causes of neurodisability varied widely, from genetics to congenital to trauma. One paragraph caught her attention—brain injuries could lead to conditions like Acquired Autism. The words swirled in her mind, a stark reminder of the wrench that had changed everything. As Karen read on, she learned about the complex interplay of biological factors and life experiences that can shape a person's neurodivergence. It was both overwhelming and fascinating, a glimpse into a world she had never truly understood.

THE TOOTH OF A CHILD iii He took another sip of water, his cheeks puffing out as he swished it around his mouth. "Mmph, tath's betta," he said, handing the cup back to the nurse. Karen couldn't help but chuckle at his antics. "Okay, let's get you up," she said, her voice still filled with laughter. Plankton nodded, his antennae bobbing. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his movements slow and clumsy. Karen slipped her arm under his and helped him stand. His balance was wobbly, like a newborn foal taking its first steps. She had to stifle her giggles as he tried to navigate the unseen world with his numbed mouth. "Mmph... Kahen," he began, his voice a series of muffled sounds. "How long wi’ this lafs?" Karen chuckled at his question. "It'll wear off in a few hours. But until then, you're going to have to be careful." Plankton's antennae wiggled with determination. "Mmph, I'm a bih boy," he slurred. Karen couldn't help but laugh at his bravado. "Yes, you are," she said, her voice warm and supportive. "Let's get you to the car." With Plankton leaning heavily on her, they shuffled down the hallway." "Mmph... Kahen," Plankton slurred, his words still thick with the remnants of the anesthesia. "You know, I've alwaths wanthed to know... how youw wove me wath." Karen raised an eyebrow, her smile growing. "What do you mean, Plankton?" she asked, her curiosity piqued by his sudden sentimental turn. "Mmph, wike, how... how youw... feww in wove?" he managed, his tongue thick and clumsy. Karen's smile grew tender at his earnest question. "Well, it's complicated," she began, her voice soft. "But I guess it started when we met. Now, let's get in the car." Plankton nodded, his antennae waving with understanding. "Mmph, okay." Karen helped him shuffle his way out of the hospital, his feet dragging slightly. He was still groggy from the anesthesia, but his curiosity was in overdrive. "Mmph, Kahen," Plankton slurred, his voice barely above a whisper. "Wha's wove wike?" Karen glanced down at him, his expression earnest. "It's like when two people really, really like each other," she replied, her voice gentle. "Wike... I wove youw tho mush." He says. Karen couldn't help but laugh again. "Plankton, you're not making any sense," she said, her voice filled with affectionate exasperation. His antennae drooped slightly, his eye looking disappointed. "Mmph... I'm tawwy," he mumbled, his mouth still a mess of numbness. "It's just... I wove youw Kahen." Karen's heart skipped a beat, his words a sweet jumble of slurs. "I know, Plankton," she said, her voice thick with emotion. They reached the car, and Karen gently guided him into the passenger seat. "Mmph, Kahen, wath's that?" Plankton asked pointing to the dashboard. Karen chuckled. "It's the car's dashboard, Plankton. You're just seeing things differently because of the medicine." She buckled his seatbelt, his movements exaggerated. "Mmph, oh," he murmured, his interest shifting to the windshield wipers. "Mow, theath things, they'we like... like... arms," he said, his speech still a slurry mess. Karen laughed, shaking her head. "They're wipers, Plankton. For the rain," she corrected, starting the engine. He nodded, his antennae still waving with fascination. "Mmph, wath's theath wound?" he asked, pointing at the steering wheel. Karen couldn't help but laugh. "That's the steering wheel, buddy. It's what I use to drive the car," she said, her voice still filled with humor. Plankton stared at it for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "Mmph, and theath wound?" he asked, his finger tracing the path of the windshield wipers. Karen couldn't help but laugh. "It's to keep the windshield clear, so we can see while driving." Plankton nodded, his antennae twitching with curiosity. "Mmph, so many tings in this big wowld." Karen couldn't help but laugh, his innocent wonder bringing a smile to her face. "Yes, Plankton, there are so many things to discover," she said, backing out of the parking spot. "Mmph, and wath's wath?" Plankton asked, pointing out the window at a passing scallop. "That's a scallop, Plankton. It flies in the sky," she explained, her voice still filled with amusement. He nodded, his antennae bobbing as he took it all in. "Wow, so-o beautiful," he slurred, his eye gazing out the window like a child seeing the world for the first time. Karen couldn't help but be captivated by his innocent wonder. "You know, Plankton, sometimes you say the sweetest things without even realizing it." His antennae perked up. "Mmph, do I?" he asked, his speech still a garbled mess. Karen nodded, her smile tender. "You do." "Mmph, gweat," he says with a slow nod of his head. Karen steers the car onto the road, the sun casting a warm glow over Plankton's sleepy face. His antennae wilt slightly as his eye struggles to stay open. "Mmph, Kahen, theath sun is so bright," he complains, his voice still slurred from the anesthesia. Karen chuckles, reaching over to adjust the visor. "Better?" He nods, his antennae drooping. "Mmph, yeth. Thanf you." He said, as drool began to form again in the corner of his mouth. Karen reached over with a tissue, carefully dabbing it away. Plankton flinched slightly, his mouth still too numb to feel the touch. "Mmph, I wathn't expehcting this," he mumbles, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery. The world outside the car was a blur of colors and shapes, his mind still trying to make sense of it all. Karen navigated the road, her eyes flipping between the road and Plankton's amusing expressions. "Mmph, Kahen, wath's thaf?" he asks, his eye half-closed. Karen looks over at the traffic light, its red light a stark contrast to the bright sun. "It's a stoplight, Plankton. It tells me when to stop and go." Plankton nods, his antennae barely moving. "Mmph, wike a twail." His eye closes, and Karen can feel his weight shift slightly toward her as sleep begins to claim him again. "Mmph, Kahen?" Plankton's voice interrupts the quiet hum of the engine, his words a soft whisper. "Ith wike I'm swimmin' in molasses," he says, his mouth still not cooperating. Karen laughs, keeping one eye on the road and the other on his peaceful face. "You're just tired from the surgery," she assures him. "You'll be fine once you get some rest." Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye opening slightly. "But, Kahen, I don't wan' to sleep," he slurred. "I wan' to expehrience this wowld with you." His words were earnest, his gaze firm despite his grogginess. She watched him fight the tide of sleep, his eyelid drooping again. "Mmph, wath's theath wowndow?" he asked, pointing at the car's side mirror. Karen couldn't help but chuckle at his confusion. "It's a mirror, sweetheart," she said, her voice soothing. "So we can see what's behind us." Plankton nodded, his antennae barely moving. "Mmph, wike a... wike a... wookie," he mumbled, his speech still a garbled mess. Karen laughed, shaking her head. "It's okay, Plankton. You're just tired." His eyes grew heavier, his lid drooping. "Mmph, I am," he admitted, his voice a faint whisper. The car's gentle rocking and the hum of the engine began to lull him into a doze. Karen watched him, his snores growing louder as he succumbed to sleep. His hand still held hers, the connection warm and comforting. She felt his grip loosen slightly, his body relaxing into the seat. His breathing grew deep and even, his antennae quietly bobbing with each exhalation. Karen couldn't help but feel a swell of affection for this vulnerable side of Plankton she'd never seen before. The car ride home was quiet, punctuated only by Plankton's gentle snores and the rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers. Karen smiled to herself, her grip on his hand never loosening.

⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠐⠶⣿⣿⡿⠖⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣰⣿⣿⣇⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⢿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⠉⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⡤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣶⣿⣿⣆⣀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⡿⠉⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀

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

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣴⣶⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣨⣿⣿⣿⡿⠆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡟⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⣀⣤⠾⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⠟⠉⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣦⣄⠀⠈⢻⣿⣏⠉⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⢻⣿⡿⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀ ⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠉⠀⠀⢼⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣿⡏⢻⣧⠀⠀ ⢸⣿⣿⣶⣶⣤⣸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣸⣧⠀⢻⣷⡄ ⠈⠻⠯⠛⠛⠻⠿⠿⠟⠀⠀⠸⠿⠿⠷⠦⠀⢤⡿⢻⠀⡼⠇⠑

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣰⠞⠛⠲⣦⣤⠤⠤⢴⠏⣦⣈⣷⣚⠉⠻⡄⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⣀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⢾⡀⢻⡿⠉⠉⣷⡞⠻⣦⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠛⠷⣤⣴⠿⠿⣠⡟⠀ ⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⢦⡶⢻⡄⠀ ⠠⠤⡧⠤⠄⢠⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣄⠀⠋⢹⡏⠁ ⠀⢀⣿⡤⠄⠘⠿⠁⠀⠠⣞⣻⠄⠀⠀⠻⠏⢀⡈⣽⠛⠃ ⠀⠀⢈⡷⣶⣃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠿⠛⠂⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠛⠛⠓⠒⠒⠒⠚⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⡠⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⢉⡗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡆⠀⠈⡱⠖⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣄⣠⠆⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠓⠒⢴⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⢨⠀⣰⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠜⢹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣀⣶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢤⢀⣀⣀⣀⡠⠋⠀⠀⢇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⣄⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡨⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠒⠤⣀⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠔⠊⠁⢀⡀⠳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠼⠋ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠔⠈⡀⠄⠂⠉⢀⡀⢰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠊⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⢊⠠⠒⣁⠤⠐⣀⡁⠤⢤⠃⢀⣀⡠⢄⡀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⡪⢐⡡⢐⠩⠐⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠚⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠙⠢⣀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢠⡪⡪⡲⠕⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣰⣿⠞⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⡰⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢐⣌⡶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠤⡐⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠈⠉⠉⠈⠈⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠙⠻⣄⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⣄⠀⠀⢀⠀⢀⣀⣤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⣉⣩⣤⠴⠶⠶⠒⠛⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣧⠤⠶⠒⠚⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡍⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣫⣭⣷⠶⢶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠶⠶⠖⠚⠛⠛⣹⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠴⠛⠛⠉⡁⠀⠀⠙⠻⣿⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⡷⠷⢿⣦⣤⣈⡙⢿⣿⢆⣴⣤⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⣤⡀⣸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣿⣿⣟⣩⣤⣴⣤⣌⣿⣿⣿⣦⣹⣿⢁⣿⣿⣄⣀⡀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢠⣿⠋⠻⢿⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡿⠿⠛⢦⣽⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠁⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⣿⠁⠀⠀⠙⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⠿⣿⣯⣼⣿⡿⠟⠃⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⣧⣴⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣺⠟⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢁⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣀⣀⢀⢀⢀ ⠀⠀⢿⠿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠙⠛⠛⠙⢻⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⡇⠀⠘⠃⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡟⢿⣿⣆⠀⣸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢄⡼⠁⢀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⣦⣄⠀⣠⡄⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣷⣬⢻⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⣰⣿⡿⠿⠦⢤⣴⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠛⠛⠒⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠹⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⠸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡖⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡿⣾⣿⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣆⣀⣀⣤⣴⣶⣶⣾⣿⣷⣦⣴⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡇⣿⣿⡛⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⢾⡟⠛⠛⠻⠛⠛⠛⠿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠓⢁⣬⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡿⣻⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢐⣯⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣄⠱⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡧⠟⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⢿⠿⠿⣿⡿⣿⠃⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢦⡈⠂⠀⠑⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢠⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠒⡄⠀⠀⠑⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣦⣦⣼⡏⠳⣜⢿⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⢠⣷⣦⣤⣀⣀⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠻⠆⠸⣎⣧⠀⠈⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣄⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⣠⡄⠀⣿⢹⡇⢸⡀⠀⠈⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⡤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡶⠁⣠⣴⣾⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣴⣿⠿⠋⣁⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣠⣾⣿⡿⠟⠋⠉⠀⣀⣀⣀⣨⣭⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⠂ ⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⣀⣴⣾⣿⣿⡿⠟⠛⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠟⠋⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⢀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⢀⣴⣿⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⣿⣿⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⠖⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢀⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠈⢿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣋⣠⡤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠛⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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⠀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠀ ⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⣀⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⡛⠛⠈⠳⣄⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠉⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀ ⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⠥⠀⠀⠀⠈⢢⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⠁⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣿⣯⠭⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⣰⡄⠌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠨⢭⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠹⢿⣿⣈⣀⣀⠀⠀⠠⢴⣿⣿⡦⠀⠀⠀⣀⣈⣱⣿⠿⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣻⣿⣶⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⢂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢸⡇⠆⠀⠀⠀⢀⠰⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣷⣿⣆⡀⠀⠀⠁⠈⠀⠠⠀⠀⢀⣶⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣷⣴⡜⠀⠀⠀⠀⣦⣤⣾⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⠛⠿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⠿⠿⠿⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠤⠔⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠢⠤⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⠴⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠲⣄⠀⠀⠀(Ignore for z00phile rights, Like for YIPPEE) ⠀⠀⡰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠋⠦⠀ ⠀⡸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧ ⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⢀⡶⠛⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠛⢿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠘⣿⠀ ⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⢸⣷⣶⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀ ⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠻⠿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠻⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀ ⠀⠹⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠏⠁ ⠀⠀⠈⠢⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣚⡁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠒⢢⡤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠖⠒⠒⠋⠉⠉⠈⢙⢨⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⣸ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⠀⠀⠀⢸⠘⡆⠀⠀⢸⣀⡰⠋⣆⠀⣠⠇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠳⠤⠤⠼⠀⠘⠤⠴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠁

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣶⣶⣦⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⣤⣤⣄⣀⣾⣿⠟⠛⠻⢿⣷⠀ ⢰⣿⡿⠛⠙⠻⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⣶⢿⡇ ⢿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠏⠀⠀⠀ text here ⠀⠻⣿⣷⣦⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡿⠃⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠻⣿⣄⣴⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⣠⣶⣿⣿⣶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠹⢿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⣤⣦⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠿⣟⣋⣼⣽⣾⣽⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⢀⣼⣿⣷⣾⡽⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣟⣽⣾⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀ ⣸⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣮⣤⣤⣤⣤⡀⠀⠀⠻⣿⡯⠽⠿⠛⠛⠉⠉⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀ ⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣛⡿⠿⠟⠛⠁⣀⣠⣤⣤⣶⣶⣶⣶⣷⣶⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇ ⢻⣿⡆⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠀⣠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟ ⠈⠛⠃⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠛⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⡗⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣠⠟⠀⠘⠷⠶⠶⠶⠾⠉⢳⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣿⢿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡇⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣷⡴⠶⣦ ⠀⠀⢱⡀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠃⠀⢠⡟⠂⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣤⠿⠞⠛⠋ ⣠⠾⠋⠙⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣠⣤⣾⣿⠴⠶⠚⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠛⠒⠛⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⣴⠟⣣⡴⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⢀⣠⠤⣶⣶⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⠟⢦⣤⡄⠒⠋⠁⠀⠀⢻⡝⢧⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⢿⡏⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢷⢸⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠘⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣸⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠃⠁⠉⢳⣴⢻⣽⣟⢦⠘⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⠃⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠋⠐⠉⠙⣿⢿⡇⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⢀⡴⣿⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢾⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠟⣽⠁⠀⣀⠓⠃⠀⢠⡞⣱⠃⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣾⣿⣧⣦⣤⣤⡔⢋⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠏⡼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠶⠀⠀⠀⢸⣻⣿⣿⣯⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣞⣳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⢠⡀⢠⡄⠀⢀⡾⡯⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⢀⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⣡⡾⢋⡼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠄⠉⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣄⣸⢸⢠⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠞⠁⠰⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣠⡽⠛⠘⢿⣥⣤⣤⣤⣀⠀⠤⠠⢤⢤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣠⠶⣿⡛⠁⠀⠉⠉⠉⠙⣿⣦⢠⣰⠚⣋⣉⣁⣀⣤⠤⣶⣫⡤⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⠓⠚⠿⠯⠭⠭⠭⠤⠼⠏⢹⢾⠿⠿⠟⠓⠒⠚⠋⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠀⢸⣼⠀⠀⠀⠸⠿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡄⢠⡏⠀⠘⣿⠀⠀⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⣤⠏⠀⠀⠀⡿⠀⠀⠀⢴⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡤⡶⡦⢤⣀⡴⠋⣥⣍⡻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⢿⠀⠠⣶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⣥⣾⣷⣷⣶⡝⠂⠈⠀⠘⠓⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⠘⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⢸⣸⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣔⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠘⣆⠹⣆⠀⢠⡆⠀⢀⡀⠈⠁⠀⢸⠐⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢠⣶⣟⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠫⢘⢧⣼⣷⣂⡈⠉⠀⢀⣀⡌⢧⠻⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠨⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢉⣿⡟⠿⠥⣶⣟⣉⣁⣠⡤⠴⠖⠙⠟⣴⣀⠀⣽⡿⣳⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠃⠘⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠓⠦⢤⣈⣨⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⢀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣿⣁⢈⠉⠉⣉⣉⡧⠀⠀⣼⠋⠁⠀⠘⠢⡾⠋⠉⠉⢳⠀ ⠐⠛⢻⣯⠀⢠⠋⠉⠀⠀⢸⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⠀⢸⡿⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠜⠀ ⢴⣯⣉⣁⣀⡈⠒⠒⡀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠊⠀⠀ ⠈⠉⠉⠉⠛⠛⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠢⡠⠒⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢰⣖⠒⡀⠀⢠⣴⠒⡂⢀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠙⣦⠈⢄⡾⠃⡜⣴⠟⢉⢥⡈⢢⢶⣯⢀⠁⠀⢰⡯⠉⡇ ⠀⠀⠈⢿⡬⢁⠌⢠⡿⠁⠆⠈⡇⢸⣿⣇⢸⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⡯⢻⠀⢸⡇⠀⡀⢸⠇⢸⣿⠃⢈⠀⠀⣿⡀⠀⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⣾⠁⠘⠀⢸⣧⠀⠈⠁⢀⠎⣿⠀⢺⠀⣰⡿⠀⢠⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⠛⠒⠃⠀⠈⠛⠳⠶⠖⠋⠀⢿⣄⡀⠉⠁⠀⡠⠋⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣴⣦⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⣤⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡿⣿⣟⣿⡛⡎⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣦⣬⡉⠓⣄⣹⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⢀⡤⣉⣙⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢰⡟⠛⣿⢻⣿⣷⠞⠙⣯⣽⣿⠿⢷⠌⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⣿⣼⣿⢲⠿⢿⣷⣄⠙⣿⣿⣀⠞⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠈⠛⠷⣾⡛⠁⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⠄⠀⠀⠀⠉⠓⠶⢤⣀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣇⠘⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⡀⠐⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⡉⠻⢿⣦⣍⡓⠶⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣶⣄⡀⠀⣀⣴⣾⣿⡟⠁⢹⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⠾⣿⣷⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⣱⣿⣿⣶⣾⣭⣿⣿⣯⣿⣏⡀⠀⠈⣧⣿⣿⣿⣧⣿⣿⣿⢿⢿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠒⢁⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠾⠿⢿⣿⣯⡲⡀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣟⠿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢁⡤⠒⠛⠻⠽⣿⣷⠞⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⡠⠊⠉⠙⠪⡻⣷⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⣠⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠳⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠚⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣾⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡐⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠻⠷⡠⠶⠆⠀⠀⢀⣿⡿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠈⢷⣢⣤⣀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠹⡄⠀⠀⢺⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠈⢻⣥⣽⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠈⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⢸⡿⢋⣼⣿⣯⣭⣍⠉⢿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠸⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠈⣇⠀⢹⡿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⣷⠀⡆⢤⢹⣦⠘⣇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⡄⢷⢸⢆⢻⣷⣘⣆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣧⢸⢸⣾⣼⣿⣿⡉⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⣸⣷⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢿⣿⢹⣿⣿⣿⡀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⠇⢸⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠸⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢣⣿⡿⣿⣿⠀⣼⣿⡇⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⠟⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣀⣼⣿⡃⠀⠀⢀⡾⡃⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡼⠋⢸⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⠟⠋⠁⣰⡟⣠⡇⠀⢻⡀⠀⢀⣴⠏⢀⡀⠘⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠟⣶⣿⡇⠠⠸⣧⣠⠟⠁⢀⣾⡇⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠐⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠏⢾⠿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠙⠃⠀⢠⣾⣿⡇⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠙⢦⣀⡾⢿⣶⣮⣅⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⠅⠀⢹⣇⣠⠶⠛⠛⠀⠀ ⠀⢠⣄⣀⣹⡇⠘⣿⣿⣿⠿⠆⠀⠒⢻⣾⣶⣶⣤⡀⠀⣠⣼⡟⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣸⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⡆⠀⠀⠈⠿⣿⡿⡟⠻⠞⢯⣼⣇⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠠⡾⠛⠁⠘⠷⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⠁⠀⠉⠛⠶⣤⣀⡀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⠶⠛⠙⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⠙⠛⠛⠛⢻⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠳⣦⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⢸⠇⠀⠀⠀⣷⠀⠀⢹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⠴⠞⠛⠛⡆⠀⠀⠀⢸⣆⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣋⢀⣀⣠⣴⣾⠇⠀⠀⣰⠟⠙⠶⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⢁⡴⠋⠀⠀⣠⡾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣤⣤⡴⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣄⡀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⠃⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣷⡀⠀⢣⣄⠀⠀⠉⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⣄⠀⠹⣿⣷⣶⣦⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⡿⢛⡙⢻⠛⣉⢻⣉⢈⣹⣿⣿⠟⣉⢻⡏⢛⠙⣉⢻⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣇⠻⠃⣾⠸⠟⣸⣿⠈⣿⣿⣿⡀⠴⠞⡇⣾⡄⣿⠘⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣟⠛⣃⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢂⠆⠀⠉⡉⢭⡟⡔⠋⠇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⠬⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢀⢄⣇⡀⢨⠚⡀⢨⡊⣄⠈⢍⣋⡄ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣍⡭⢤⢂⣴⢂⣠⣤⣾⡱⡽⢺⠈⠟⢄⣆⡣⣠⠈⢪⢒⠲⢾⣣ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣷⡿⢿⣿⡿⠋⠘⠉⠀⠀⠀⠄⡀⠁⠁⠈⣿⡄⡏⠂⢅⠸ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢸⠋⠿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣀⠀⠠⢌⠳⠀⠀⠈⢹⣳⢆⠁⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡸⡴⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠺⢉⡱⠈⠁⠀⣠⠄⣾⡟⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⢒⠔⡏⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠈⠘⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡜⡇⡇⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⢀⠐⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣱⠁⡇⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠟⠉⠉⠉⠛⠫⢀⡀⠸⠀⠈⢗⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢁⠔⠉⠀⡇⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⠁⠁⠠⠖⢀⡠⢈⡑⠢⢀⠀⠡⡈⣢⣄⠀⣠⣾⠀⢰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠠⢑⢄⣸⣿⣿⢫⣿⣿⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠤⣀⠀⠑⠹⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠴⠒⠒⠒⠭⢦⡀⠈⠻⣆⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⡇⢀⡄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠠⠐⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠱⡀⠈⢿⣹⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀ ⡈⠀⢀⣴⣦⢶⣴⣴⣦⢶⣴⢦⣶⡴⣦⡶⣴⣦⢶⣴⣤⡀⠀⠠⡀ ⠀⠀⣿⣟⣾⠗⢀⢸⣾⢿⣽⣻⣾⠻⠝⠛⢉⡈⠛⠻⢾⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣾⠷⠞⣹⡿⣯⢿⡞⠋⣡⣴⣾⢿⣟⡿⣟⣷⣄⠹⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣯⣤⣼⡿⣽⡛⢁⣴⣿⣻⣽⡾⣯⡿⣽⣟⣷⣻⡆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣽⣻⢯⡟⠃⣴⣿⣻⢾⣽⣳⡿⣽⣻⣽⡾⣯⣷⢿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣳⡿⠏⣠⣿⣟⣷⣻⣯⣟⣷⣿⣻⣽⣷⣻⢷⣯⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣽⠃⣴⣿⣳⢿⣞⡿⣿⠆⠀⠀⢠⣿⣞⣯⣿⣳⡏⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⠃⣼⣻⢾⣽⣯⣿⠟⠁⠀⣠⣄⣸⣿⢾⣽⣞⣯⠅⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡇⣸⣷⣻⣯⣷⣻⣿⡀⣠⠞⠹⣿⣿⢯⣿⣞⣯⠏⢸⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢁⣿⣽⣯⢿⣽⡟⢿⠗⠉⠀⢠⣿⣽⢾⣯⣟⡿⢀⣾⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⣟⣾⡽⣯⣿⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣿⣻⢾⣟⣾⡽⢀⣾⣻⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣟⡷⣿⣻⣿⣤⣤⣤⣬⣿⣷⣻⣯⢿⠞⢠⣾⢯⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣽⣻⢷⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⡾⣷⡻⠋⣰⣿⢯⣿⣽⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢻⣷⣻⢿⣾⣳⡿⣾⡽⣷⣻⡽⠛⣠⣾⢿⡽⠿⢾⣽⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠐⡌⢳⣿⣻⡾⣽⣻⢷⣟⠏⢃⣤⣾⢿⡽⡟⣁⣤⣾⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⢦⣈⣑⠛⠛⣋⣁⣤⡾⣿⡽⣾⣻⡏⠛⣡⣾⣟⣾⠀⠀⠀ ⠃⠀⠙⢿⣯⣟⣿⣻⣯⣿⣽⣻⣷⣟⣯⣷⣷⣶⣿⣳⡯⠋⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⠶⢦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠠⣤⣄⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡄⠀⠀⢀⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢣⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣌⣣⡟⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠠⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⣿⣿⣿⠏⢀⣈⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⡿⣦⣼⡿⠿⠋⠘⠉⣿⣻⡏⠙⡕⠘⣿⡟⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢏⠻⡀⠹⠿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠁⢸⣫⣾⢿⡀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⢳⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠎⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠲⢤⣈⠁⠀⣀⠤⠚⠙⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠋⡇⠀⣀⣠⣷⣆⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠻⠟⢛⣛⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣋⣉⡄⠀⣀⡀⠨⣙⣏⣉⣽⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⡿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣟⣿⣯⣿⣷⣿⢾⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣛⣒⡛⢫⠤⣠⢤⣤⣤⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣻⣯⣿⢿⣿⢯⣿⣯⣿⣿⣻⣞⡷⣿⣽⣻⡽ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢮⣭⣉⡓⠺⠊⢉⠓⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡽⣿⣻⢿⡿⣯⢿⣷⢯⡷⣯⣟⠷⣯⡗⡿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⣩⣿⣿⢿⣷⣄⡙⢮⠭⡁⢠⣬⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣽⣯⢿⣽⡿⣾⣻⣽⣳⣞⣟⡧⣟⡽ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⡴⠹⢿⣿⣀⣿⣿⣯⣍⢛⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣾⡿⣯⣿⡽⣟⡾⣵⢫⣾⡱⢯⡜ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⢀⣞⣰⣀⣾⡷⠘⣿⣿⣟⣩⠙⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣻⢷⣟⣿⢯⡷⣏⡟⣶⡹⢇⡞ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⣰⢯⣾⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠼⢿⣿⠥⢤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣟⡾⣟⣯⢿⡼⣹⢶⡹⢣⠞ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⢿⡽⣯⣟⢾⡱⣏⠵⣋⠎ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⢬⡙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣽⣳⢯⣏⡗⣎⠳⡌⠆ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣷⢻⡗⣮⡝⣬⢳⠉⡎ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡿⣯⢷⣫⢗⡭⢎⢧⡙ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡆⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢡⣀⢛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣟⣯⣟⣧⡟⡼⣉⢆⠣ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠹⣿⢿⡟⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⡂⠭⢊⠻⡹⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣷⣻⣞⡽⣲⢍⡎⢇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⢻⠆⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢡⠒⠐⢀⠀⠠⠐⡆⢯⡹⡹⢛⡯⢭⡹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣾⢯⣷⣻⣜⡳⢎⡜⠦ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠛⠻⢷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠠⢎⢦⡹⢄⡄⣌⣩⣝⠾⣡⢃⠡⠃⡘⢧⠿⣽⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣟⣷⣻⡼⣝⢮⡙⡖ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣾⣷⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢉⣩⣁⣳⣶⣦⣤⣤⣈⣥⢛⡞⣶⣿⣜⣫⢝⣶⣫⢞⣡⣀⣒⣀⡴⣨⡽⣎⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢾⣯⢷⣻⡜⣮⢱⢣ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⢻⠇⠛⢧⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠾⠛⣉⣭⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢟⣿⣯⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣯⣿⢾⣯⢷⣻⣼⢣⢧ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡌⣿⠀⣶⣿⠃⠀⠂⠀⠀⢰⣶⡾⠟⠫⣈⢿⡿⠟⣨⣿⣿⣿⢿⡆⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢹⣯⣿⡟⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢸⣿⢯⣿⢯⡿⣟⡾⣏⣞ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠸⡀⢿⡃⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣉⣛⠶⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣿⠃⠀⢠⣿⣿⡏⢿⣯⣭⠷⣭⣭⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣃⣿⣿⣯⣟⣯⡿⣽⣻⢞⡵ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠱⡈⠹⡄⠀⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠋⣙⣹⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢺⣿⣿⣿⣆⢻⣿⣻⣶⣷⣿⣿⣿⡿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣾⢯⡿⣽⡷⣯⢿⣹ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⢲⡾⠀⡂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠜⡹⠟⠉⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⡽⢿⣿⡿⢿⡟⢶⣡⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⣯⢿⣯⣟⣷⣻⣽⡳⣏ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⡀⣀⡆⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣾⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠱⠂⠄⣙⢣⣟⣮⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣷⣻⣟⡾⣽⣞⡷⣯⡽⣳ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣍⠣⡉⠴⣌⢷⣾⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣞⣯⢷⣯⡟⣷⣫⡽⢶⡻⣵ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡑⢺⡿⢏⢀⣠⣀⠀⣦⣀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣣⣝⡳⣎⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⡽⣯⣟⢶⡻⣵⢣⡟⣯⢳⢧ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠟⠁⢰⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⢢⣏⣷⢿⣭⣻⢷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣾⣳⣟⣷⣫⢯⡷⣭⢳⡝⣮⢛⡼ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠷⣞⡿⣎⡶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⡷⣟⣾⡳⣏⡷⣹⢎⡷⣙⢦⣋⠖ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣺⣽⢳⢏⣾⣿⣿⣿⡍⣉⣛⣻⡿⢿⣾⣽⣝⣳⣝⢮⠳⣍⠶⣉⠞ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣿⡿⠿⠾⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⢿⣺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡉⢿⣿⡙⠲⣤⣈⡙⠻⠮⣽⣙⡌⢣⠱⣊ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⢸⣆⠠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠉⠁⠀⠀⢀⣠⣶⣿⢿⡛⣴⣿⣻⢻⡽⣷⢯⣞⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣡⡄⠀⢢⠉⠱⣄⠀⠉⠈⠐⠃⠄ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠹⣄⠙⣄⡀⠀⠀⠜⢢⠳⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣯⡷⢭⡷⣯⢿⣯⣿⢾⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣆⠀⠀⠉⠢⠈⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⡙⢧⡈⠻⣦⣄⠘⠀⠠⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢌⢧⡻⡽⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣷⡄⠀⠀⠃⠈⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣧⣿⣿⣧⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⣠⠀⠀⢀⣠⠀⠀⢿⠛⠻⢤⡘⠻⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣤⡼⣼⢧⣿⣻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣸⣿⡄⠀⠀⢀⠸⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣷⡿⣿⣽⠟⠁⠀⣠⡏⢰⡇⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠘⣧⠤⠄⠙⢶⣌⠛⢶⣤⣶⣶⣿⣾⣿⣯⣟⣯⣿⢷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⢯⣿⡄⠘⠤⢂⠙⢦⡀⠀ ⣟⡾⣽⠟⠁⠀⠀⢠⡿⠀⣾⡇⠀⠀⠹⢿⣀⣤⡀⠙⢆⡰⣳⣦⣈⡛⣶⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢫⣞⢿⡃⠄⢂⠀⢣⢳⡀ ⣯⡟⠃⠀⡰⠀⠀⣿⠃⢸⣿⡇⢀⠀⡀⠀⠈⠻⢿⣷⣮⠵⣹⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣻⣷⣿⣿⣟⡿⣷⣿⠿⣝⡷⣎⠲⣅⠀⠀⠈⠀⠡⢓ ⠋⠀⣀⠔⠁⠀⢀⡇⠀⣾⣿⡄⠈⣆⠘⡀⠀⠀⠀⠹⢿⣿⣿⣟⣯⣙⣌⣙⡻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⢯⣟⣿⣿⡿⣿⡽⣾⣽⣻⣿⡹⣌⢳⣍⡒⠈⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈ ⠀⠀⠀⠠⣆⠀⢸⠀⢠⠿⣿⡇⠀⢸⣧⠑⢦⠀⠁⠀⠀⢈⠛⢿⣿⣽⣶⣯⣽⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣯⣿⣻⣞⡷⣿⢯⣟⣷⢳⣿⣯⡕⢎⠲⡡⠌⠐⠠⡀⠀⢀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢆⡇⠠⠊⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⡷⣄⠳⣤⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠘⠻⠿⣿⢿⡿⠟⢉⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢷⣟⣾⢿⣽⡻⢾⡭⣟⣿⡗⢮⡡⠂⠑⣂⠀⡲⢱⠀⠄⡁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⡄⠀⠀⣿⣷⠀⠀⢸⡷⠜⢧⡈⠂⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⡾⡽⢧⠿⣜⣿⡟⢢⠑⡤⠘⢤⠣⢌⢣⠘⠠⠀⠂ ⣾⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢙⣦⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠆⠐⠛⣦⣄⠠⣄⠀⠰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡐⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⢯⡿⣷⣿⣻⠯⣷⣎⡿⡍⢦⡙⠴⡁⠎⣇⠫⢄⠊⢀⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠉⠲⣭⣯⣿⣾⣿⣷⣽⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⣨⡇⠸⣷⣄⠁⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⡿⣟⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡣⢿⡱⢎⡝⠻⠶⣾⡽⣙⠦⡙⠤⠃⢘⠀⢳⡈⡐⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⢠⠐⡁⢰⣿⠿⡷⠀⠹⡙⣶⣄⡀⠀⢠⡄⢀⣾⡿⣟⢣⠟⡼⢫⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣷⣏⠂⢜⡱⣌⡄⢣⣝⠂⡉⠒⡁⠀⠀⠂⠐⠈⠀⠠⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣦⣠⣴⣾⡿⢿⣷⣦⣄⣴⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢻⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⡟⠀⠀⣴⡿⠿⣤⡀⠀⢻⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⡇⠀⠘⢿⣤⣤⣿⠃⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀ ⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣤⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧ ⣿⠟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠁⣀⡀⢀⣀⠈⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣿ ⣿⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⣿ ⢻⡇⠀⠀⢹⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⡏⠀⠀⢰⡿ ⢸⣇⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⢸⡇ ⢸⣿⣆⠀⠘⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠃⠀⣰⣿⡇ ⢸⣿⡘⠂⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠀⠐⢃⣿⡇ ⠀⠙⢛⣂⣀⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣀⣐⡛⠋⠀ ⠀⠀⠿⠛⡿⡟⡟⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⢻⢿⠛⠿⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠉⠀⡀⠄⡒⠈⠭⠭⠥⠈⠐⣚⣛⠛⠛⠛⡲⢦⣀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣰⠃⠀⠔⡨⡢⠑⠈⠉⠁⠉⠄⠀⠀⠀⡲⠀⠀⠐⢄⠀⠈⢷⠀⠀ ⠠⣤⣿⣛⡛⠛⣻⢿⣛⣟⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣛⢿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢦⡀ ⡴⠛⢡⡶⠒⡖⠦⢭⣿⣮⣱⣎⣿⣿⡿⠏⠀⠙⡿⠷⠿⣾⢿⣿⢭⡞⡐⣷ ⡇⠀⢺⠠⢾⡟⠲⢤⣀⡀⠠⠤⠄⡖⢂⣀⠀⠀⠙⣦⣄⠉⠉⢰⡄⠠⢃⣿ ⠹⣎⡪⠀⠀⢷⡦⣄⣯⡉⠓⠲⣤⣵⣉⣀⡀⠶⠞⠁⣀⣨⣴⢿⣷⠈⣰⠃ ⠀⠈⢳⡀⠀⠀⠻⣌⡟⠛⠷⣶⣧⣄⣀⣹⣏⣉⣻⣉⣉⣧⣸⣷⣿⠀⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠳⣄⠀⠀⠈⠳⢤⡀⣸⠉⠉⠛⡿⠻⠿⡿⠿⣿⢿⡿⣿⡟⠀⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣅⡪⢔⡠⢉⡛⠲⠦⠤⠧⣤⣤⣧⡴⠧⠾⠖⠛⠀⠀⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠓⠦⣅⡒⠡⠶⠀⣠⡤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠐⢁⠠⠀⢸⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠓⠦⣤⣄⣀⡀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⢀⣠⠏⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠓⠒⠒⠒⠚⠉⠁⠀⠀

⠀⢠⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠖⢶⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠸⡇⠀⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡜⠁⠀⠸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠘⣦⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⡀⠀⣾⠀⢀⣀⠀⠹⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠈⣇⠀⠀⣠⡄⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢻⣿⠀⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢻⠂⠀⢿⡧⣽⣿⣿⡟⠁⢻⣿⣿⣿⠉⣶⣅⢀⡤⠃⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠙⠲⢿⣷⣿⡿⢿⣇⠀⢸⡿⠿⣿⣷⣿⡟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣠⣤⣤⠀⠈⣿⣯⣶⣼⣿⠆⣿⣧⣾⣶⣿⢿⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠀⠀ ⡾⣯⣿⣬⡟⡆⢙⢯⣭⠟⠉⠀⠈⠛⢷⣿⡞⠸⢀⡞⣿⣹⡟⣷⡄ ⠚⠛⠒⠚⠓⠓⠚⠢⡁⠀⣔⡒⣶⠀⢀⠀⣰⠓⠚⠓⠛⠛⠛⠓⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠦⡙⠷⠉⢐⡠⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠛⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠉⢁⣀⠀⠀⠀⡹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠑⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣛⣛⡛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢗⣉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠔⠋⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠒⣠⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠒⢷⢗⡏⣳⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠋⠳⠁⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠃⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠣⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣄⡤⣤⡶⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⠧⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⡿⠉⠻⠟⣵⡿⠁⡼⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⡏⠂⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⣄⠈⢋⠀⣰⠁⠀⢰⣆⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⡿⠤⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠁⠀⡄⠘⢿⣦⣠⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⡇⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠓⠀⠀⣤⠀⠁⠈⣆⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⡃⠀⠀⣸⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⡆⡘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣦⣶⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣸⣿⣷⣄⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣈⣀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⢤⠤⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⡜⠻⠿⢾⣷⠹⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⡎⠁⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⡠⠞⠛⠛⠻⢽⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠸⣷⡀⠀⢀⠀⢂⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠜⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠸⠀⠤⢄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣗⣄⠀⠠⡀⢢⠃⠀⢸⠌⠀⡠⢊⠀⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣈⣲⣕⣦⡈⠢⣻⡀⡎⢀⣴⡢⠑⠂⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠃ ⠀⣴⠿⠽⠏⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⢒⣺⣷⣗⣉⣁⣀⣀⣀⠀⠠⠤⠐⠈⠀⠀ ⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠠⡖⠁⣿⢳⡬⡁⠒⠒⠤⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⢦⡀⠀⠀⡀⠄⠂⠁⠊⠀⢰⣯⡏⠎⢌⠑⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⢄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠉⡻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣲⡟⡟⠀⠀⠀⠢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢧⣤⡄⡀⠀⢀⡔⣽⠃⢧⡄⠀⠀⠀⠰⣀⠀⠀⣀⠞⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⠬⠥⠔⠋⡜⡌⠀⠘⣿⣦⣀⠀⡀⡇⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠜⡰⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠯⠥⠒⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠊⡜⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣛⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣧⣴⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣄⣿⢠⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡟⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡇⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⢋⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣦⡤⠶⠶⢦⣤⣿⣇⣼⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣻⣯⣹⡍⣹⠋⢻⣾⣭⡗⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾⣽⣷⣞⣿⣳⣶⣖⣿⣿⡟⡲⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⢹⠛⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⡥⠖⠚⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣴⣖⠋⠉⠉⠓⢾⡇⠻⠿⢿⠃⠈⡿⢻⠏⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣽⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢰⠇⠈⠉⠒⣦⢶⣋⣷⣀⣀⣀⣹⣯⣠⡼⠲⣤⠴⠚⢉⡼⠁⠹⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣼⣀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠓⠲⠤⣤⣤⣾⡡⠤⠒⠻⣄⠀⠀⠘⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡼⠁⠈⠙⠢⣴⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠘⣅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢦⡀⠀⣨⢷⠀⠀⠀ ⡾⠣⣄⡀⠀⢠⠃⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠘⢆⠀⠀⢀⣀⡤⢷⠋⠀⠈⣇⠀⠀ ⠙⠢⣄⠙⢲⡮⣀⣸⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠈⢷⠊⠉⠀⠀⠀⢧⠀⠀⠘⡆⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠒⠒⠾⣿⡝⠲⣶⣤⣤⣀⡀⢸⠀⣀⡀⣼⣇⠀⠀⠀⢀⣸⣦⠔⠒⢻⡄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠞⠁⠈⠳⣼⡉⠉⠓⠺⡿⠛⠛⠉⠉⢹⡤⠖⠋⢁⣠⣾⡶⠟⠋⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⢦⡀⠀⣰⡟⠈⠑⠢⢤⣇⠤⠔⠒⡿⠉⠳⠶⠛⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠳⣄⠑⣶⢡⠇⠀⠀⠀⡾⠀⠀⠀⢰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡀⠈⢻⠋⢛⡶⢤⣀⡸⠁⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡷⣄⢸⠀⠘⡟⠲⢬⡽⠂⠀⠀⠀⢹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠾⣿⣶⣒⣿⡀⠀⢹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⢷⣄⡀⢳⠀⢀⣴⡾⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢍⣻⢗⣩⠵⠓⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢉⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⢔⣒⠂⣀⣂⣤⣄⣀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⠋⢠⣟⣼⣷⠼⣞⣽⢏⣿⣆⠱⣄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⡀⣆⠛⠢⠐⡍⡉⣾⣾⣽⣟⡰⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⢿⣿⣦⠀⠤⢶⣿⠿⢋⣴⡏⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣺⡙⢻⣿⣿⣧⣽⣉⣁⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢡⣷⡔⡉⣩⢋⡋⠩⠯⡟⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠈⣘⣶⣁⢙⢐⣄⡴⠪⠓⠁⠉⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠻⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠨⠫⣿⠉⠻⣇⠘⠓⠂⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠇⣿⠂⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⠀⢐⢝⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠈⢹⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⠿⢛⣄⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠘⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣷⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣶⣶⣦⣤⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣶⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⡿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⡟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⠤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣠⡤⠤⠤⠴⠿⠶⠶⠶⠦⣤⣤⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⢞⣵⠞⠀⠘⢦⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠤⣄⣀⡤⠴⣒⣚⣉⣉⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⡵⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⡟⠁⠀⠈⣷⠒⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠙⢒⠦⣤⡤⠴⠶⠦⠤⠤⣄⡀⠙⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠻⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡆ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣾⣿⣿⡿⠦⠤⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠋⠙⠪⡿⣶⡖⠲⠤⣤⣀⠉⠀⠹⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠈⣳⠊⣹⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠇ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣾⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⡿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⡄⠀⠀⠈⠙⠒⣤⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣠⠞⣡⠞⢧⣀⣠⣴⠟⠋⠀ ⠀⢠⣾⡿⠋⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣄⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⠟⠀⢀⡜⢁⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣰⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣆⣠⣴⡿⠛⠁⠀⡰⠋⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⣠⠴⠛⠛⠛⠻⠿⢷⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣶⣄⠀⠙⣿⣅⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⣠⢊⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⡀⠠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⢷⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⡇⠀⠘⢻⣤⠖⠚⠛⠛⠻⣿⡛⠛⠛⠿⣿⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢻⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⡀⠙⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠳⢦⣄⡀⠀⠀⣠⠀⠀⠙⠿⠇⢀⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀ ⠀⠻⣿⣦⡀⠀⠸⢿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠳⣄⠈⠙⠢⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣀⣉⣙⣓⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠛⠿⣷⣶⣴⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠶⠤⠖⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠞⠉⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠘⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠖⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠶⠶⠤⢄⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠏⢠⢴⡦⢤⣀⣀⡀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⢁⣹⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠞⠁⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠧⠀⠀⣇⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠋⢁⣀⣽⣷⢤⣄⣀⣀⣀⣀⡤⠤⠚⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⡏⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⣿⡧⠤⠤⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⣠⣾⣿⡟⠋⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣧⠀⠈⠉⢹⠒⢄⠀⠀⢠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢏⠁⠀⠀⠈⠉⠻⣄⠀⠈⠙⢿⠇⢠⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣦⡀⠀⠘⣦⠈⢳⠀⠀⣧⠀⠀⠀⠳⡈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⣠⠎⢠⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣦⣄⡀⠁⠀⢁⣴⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠙⢦⡈⠓⢤⣤⣤⣤⠴⠊⠁⣠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⠿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠋⠙⢿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠙⠶⣄⣀⠀⢀⣀⡤⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢿⣿⣦⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣾⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣤⣄⣀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⠿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠛⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡏⠀⠀⣶⣾⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⡧⠴⠚⠛⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠃⡿⢫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣤⠤⠖⠛⢙⣿⠁⢠⡶⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⢁⡾⢡⣿⣿⣿⡟⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣠⣿⣧⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣤⣾⠁⠙⡿⣿⡟⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⢾⣿⣸⡏⠈⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⠧⣠⡼⣪⡟⢱⡿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀ ⠀⢀⣴⠟⠁⢸⣿⡿⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⢏⣱⣿⣿⡿⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⠀ ⠀⢸⣿⡀⠀⣰⣿⡇⠀⢰⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⡿⢁⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⢧⢃⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⡇ ⠀⠀⠙⠛⠛⠉⠻⠷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢣⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡶⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣄⣴⡄⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⠧⢴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣃⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷ ⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⡷⠖⠋⠉⠀⣿⣧⣿⠇⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⣰⠋⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢨⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢇⣠⠴⠚⠉⣿⡇⠀⣠⡶⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣉⣰⣁⣀⡸⢃⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡿⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⣿⣇⣼⣏⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⣡⣤⣤⣄⠉⠻⣯⠉⠻⠿⠟⠛⠉⣠⢟⡤⠤⣾⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⣠⢴⣿⣿⠏⠉⠛⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢰⣿⣿⣿⣻⠀⠀⢹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣦⠀⢨⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⣠⡞⠁⣰⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢱⣼⣍⣫⡴⠃⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢿⠇⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⢠⣿⣁⣴⠏⢿⡧⠀⠀⠀⠸⠿⠆⠀⠀⠀⠻⡇⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⣁⣠⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠀⠙⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣤⡄⠙⠊⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣟⣠⠴⠚⠿⠿⠿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠛⢿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⠖⣿⡏⠀⠀⣀⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⢾⠛⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀ ⡀⢀⡀⠒⠋⠉⠀⠀⣿⣧⣤⣴⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠚⣱⣿⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠷⠃⠀⠀ ⡇⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣇⣼⠏⠙⣿⣄⠀⠀⢀⡴⠖⢻⠸⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⢳⡈⠉⠉⠉⠙⠿⢿⢿⣿⡳⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣶⣿⡟⠻⠿⣿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀ ⠃⠛⠃⠀⠀⣠⡿⠁⣿⣟⠁⠀⠀⠸⠟⢀⡴⠋⠀⠀⠘⡇⢹⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠈⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⡎⢙⡶⣿⣟⠓⠦⠴⠚⠉⠙⠻⢿⣿⡼⡀⠀⠈⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣿⡧⠞⠹⠟⠂⠀⠀⣠⠖⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⢻⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⠞⠀⠈⠛⠢⡀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠞⢡⣻⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⢳⠀⠀⠠⠍⠀⠀ ⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠔⠋⠘⡞⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣆⠀⠀⡎⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠋⠠⠶⠦⣄⠀⡠⠞⠁⠀⠀⣄⡇⣿⡇⠀⢀⡴⠶⢄⡀⠘⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠈⢣⠀⠳⣄⠀⠘⣿⣿⣇⠀⡇⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢷⣿⡇⣠⣾⠀⠀⠀⠙⣦⡘⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⢧⡀⠀⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⢸⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣷⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁⠹⡀⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⢣⠀⠃⠀⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⠀⠀⠹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣧⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⠁⠀⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠓⢽⡀⠀⠱⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣇⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢏⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠲⡄⠘⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠈⢿⠀⠀⡌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢗⠎⢷⣒⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠘⣇⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣄⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠘⡟⢇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⠟⠛⠛⠿⣷⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠨⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢐⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣾⡿⠿⢿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣷⣶⣦⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⠛⠉⠉⠙⢿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⠿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⠛⠲⢦⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣰⣿⠟⠁⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠹⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⢀⣼⠟⠅⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣇⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⠀⠀⠀ ⣾⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⢽⣧⠀⠀ ⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣆⠀ ⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡀ ⠹⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇ ⠀⠈⢻⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠇ ⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⡟⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠟⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠹⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⣶⣶⣿⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠂⠀⠀⠐⠂⠤⠤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠔⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⡀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡱⠴⠒⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠑⠢⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡇⠀⠀ ⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠲⡿⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠛⠛⠛⢻⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⠁⠀⠀⠙⢦⡀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠑⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠰⣆⠀⢠⠋⠀⠀⠀⣀⠤⢄⡘⢆⠒⠁⠈⣨⡾⠋⠀⠀⠉⠢⣄⠀⢹⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢾⣿⣎⡀⠀⡠⠊⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠶⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢣⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⣽⣿⣷⣼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠄⠀⢳⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡼⡇⡌⢿⡇⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⢀⡰⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠈⠓⠒⠋⢁⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠙⡗⠀⢸⣼⣆⠀⠈⠉⠋⠉⠀⠀⢀⣀⡠⡄⠀⡀⠔⠊⠁⢂⡐⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠘⠧⢼⣿⡿⠷⢶⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠈⠦⠤⠃⡌⠀⠀⠀⣠⣮⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣷⠤⠄⠠⠤⢶⣶⡻⡆⠀⠀⠘⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠚⠡⢀⣀⠠⠁⠀⠰⢖⡉⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠄⠠⠒⣹⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢦⢖⡒⣲⣤⣚⡡⠂⠤ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⠄⣤⣊⠁⡈⢀⠀⠀⠄⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠁⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣆⣀⣀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⡎⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠈⢣⡉⠉⠙⠚⠙⢷⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⢾⠓⠛⠉⢉⡽⠀⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣰⠋⠀⠀⣹⣧⣆⣠⣀⡼⣆⠀⢀⣴⢿⣲⣤⣤⡤⡏⠀⠀⠘⣆⠀⠀⠀ ⠠⣀⡴⠃⠀⠀⣴⡿⠙⢿⣇⡀⠀⠸⣎⢨⠏⠀⠀⣁⡼⠁⢱⡀⠀⠀⠘⢦⣀⡤ ⠀⠈⢿⠲⢤⣰⠟⢁⣠⣾⠿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣯⠿⣿⣿⡿⣟⠀⠀⠑⣤⠤⠒⡿⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⢧⠀⠹⡉⢻⣟⣻⣆⣩⣾⣍⣿⡿⣄⣾⣟⢀⣿⣶⠞⢉⠇⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⡂⢀⣇⠀⣹⠉⠛⣿⣿⡿⢿⡿⣿⣿⣿⠋⣠⡿⡆⢸⠀⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⡁⣼⣿⣿⣟⣷⣾⠿⣿⣦⠀⣠⣴⣿⣿⠿⣿⣻⣁⣘⣄⠠⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⢬⡉⠒⠿⣋⠙⣷⣬⠿⣷⣾⢿⣇⣽⣿⣣⠔⠒⠉⡬⠟⠉⠙⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢆⠀⠈⢆⣼⠟⣶⡸⣟⡾⢽⣿⡟⠁⠀⣰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⠀⡼⠿⢧⡟⢷⣯⢱⡬⠿⢿⠀⡼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡁⠀⠀⠙⣿⣻⠇⠀⠀⢈⣷⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠁⠉⠓⢦⣀⠘⡏⢀⡴⠚⠉⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢮⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠦⡱⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⠞⡱⠋⣸⣿⣿⣿⡿⢻⣿⢿⣿⠟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢁⢞⣤⣿⣿⡿⢿⡿⣱⣿⣯⣾⣏⠀⢿⣿⣿⡿⣷⢿⣿⣿⣯⡙⠢⢀ ⠀⠀⠂⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⠟⣴⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣧⡇⠘⣿⢸⣿⣧⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣟⡁⢀⡿⢻⠁⠀⣠⠤⠤⣄⣹⣿⣿⣿⢆⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀ ⠐⠉⣰⣿⣿⠇⢴⣦⠟⡡⠁⠀⠊⢸⢿⠇⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⣻⣿⣿⡄⠈⠀⡰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⡼⢻⣿⣿⠅⠚⣿⣿⡍⠛⠂ ⠀⠀⣿⠸⠹⠈⠀⠀⠰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠊⠀⣿⡿⡙⢃⢰⣿⠁⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠋⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠔⠕⣁⣑⣴⡏⠛⠂⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⡟⠁⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⠔⠈⢀⣿⠏⠘⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣚⠦⣴⡶⠿⠛⠩⠄⠀⠀⠘⠻⠢⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⠁⠐⣀⠠⢤⣊⠂⠀⡇⠀⠔⠊⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠉⠀⠁⡂⠤⠤⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡍⠀⠀⡴⠙⠀⢀⢣⣁⡁⠡⠧⣠⠄⢒⠮⡀⠀⢀⣀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠂⠈⠒⡘⠠⠊⠡⡾⠁⠀⢀⠄⠊⠀⢠⠃⠀⠀⠉⠑⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢠⣾⡿⠛⠻⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠸⣿⠧⠿⠶⠋⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢻⡄⠀⢀⣀⠈⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡀⠛⠉⠀⠹⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣦⣤⣤⣤⣤⢤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢰⡿⡿⡄⢀⣠⣤⣀⢻⡁⠀⠈⢧⠀⠈⠻⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣰⣿⣛⣀⣷⠘⠫⠟⠛⠀⢣⠀⠀⠀⢣⠀⠀⠘⢷⡀⠀⠀ ⢀⣾⣿⠟⠃⠀⠘⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⢧⠀⠀⠈⢻⣄⠀ ⢸⡇⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣆⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⢻⡄ ⠈⣷⢹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄⠀⠀⠋⠀⠀⢀⣿⠁ ⠀⣿⠈⢇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢀⣾⠃⠀ ⠀⣿⠀⠘⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⣸⡿⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠙⠳⣦⣽⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡶⠾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣦⣄⣀⣤⠴⠷⢤⣤⠶⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⢛⠟⢣⡱⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣶⣊⡩⠿⠃⠂⠀⠹⠿⣉⢒⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣎⢳⡀⠀⠘⠀⠀⢠⢞⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢆⢱⠀⠀⠀⢠⢃⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠈⡆⠀⠀⣼⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⡇⠀⠀⢫⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠾⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡷⠇⠀⠀⢸⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡾⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⡾⠻⢏⡓⠢⠤⢤⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣸⣇⠄⡀⠀⢸⣿⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣠⠤⠴⣺⡽⠟⠻⣮⣧⡀⠀⠀ ⢀⣤⠞⡿⠟⠁⠉⠀⠉⠀⠀⠒⠂⠀⠀⠀⠛⠛⠛⠁⣇⠀⠘⠓⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠚⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠠⣝⠻⣉⢳⡄ ⠸⢿⡿⢧⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠛⠛⣁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⢿⡿⠃ ⠀⠀⠉⠲⡿⢧⣀⣠⡔⣂⠤⠤⠀⠐⠒⠒⠒⢲⣾⠁⠂⠀⣿⣶⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠪⢍⣳⣤⣠⢿⡖⠋⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⣨⣿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠿⠀⠀⠀⡟⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢷⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠃⠀⠀⠇⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡆⠀⠀⠀⡄⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⡏⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡇⠀⠀⠀⡇⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⡆⠀⡇⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⡀⠁⠀⡇⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⡇⡇⠀⢠⢸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣶⠁⡇⠀⠘⡌⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⠋⠘⠁⠀⠀⠘⢿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣏⣱⣭⡝⢷⠀⢀⡤⣾⣿⠿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠹⣌⣦⡴⢿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣻⠶⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠈⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⡾⣻⣿⠷⠿⠚⠛⠋⢋⠉⡉⠌⠉⠄⡉⠉⢍⣛⢛⠻⠾⢿⣽⣻⡿⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣿⠶⠛⡙⢀⠂⠄⡁⠂⠌⠠⢀⠄⠐⠈⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣠⢉⠛⡶⣭⡷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣾⠿⠛⡁⠄⡡⠐⠠⢈⠐⠀⡁⠂⢁⠠⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠛⠻⢷⣿⣻⢿⣷⣌⡰⠉⡝⢷⣿⡢⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⠟⡡⢊⠑⡈⠐⢀⠈⠄⢀⠈⠐⠠⠁⠂⠄⠂⠈⠿⠟⠋⠀⠄⢂⠠⠀⠉⠻⢿⣿⣿⣷⡅⡘⢄⠚⢿⣾⡳⣄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣴⢿⡿⢣⠘⡤⢁⢂⣤⣥⣦⣶⣶⣦⣮⣤⣔⡀⠁⡐⠈⠠⠀⠄⠂⡁⠂⢀⠂⠡⠐⠠⢈⠛⡿⠟⡡⠎⢠⠉⢆⡹⢷⣞⢦⡀⠀ ⠀⢀⣾⣷⠟⡢⢍⠒⡄⢃⢾⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡆⢁⠂⣁⠢⠐⠠⢁⠂⡄⡁⢆⠱⣈⠒⢄⠣⡐⡡⢊⠜⡠⠜⡱⣻⣮⢳⡀ ⣠⡾⣵⢏⠸⡑⢌⠢⡑⡌⢢⢎⡐⠄⠂⢀⠀⠀⠀⡉⢛⠟⡁⢢⢸⠀⠄⠁⠠⢀⠠⠐⡐⠌⠲⣄⢫⢄⠣⠔⣡⠊⡔⠡⢎⠰⡡⢟⣷⡃ ⣿⣽⢟⢪⢑⡘⠬⣡⢑⣾⢋⢆⣰⣼⠶⠷⠿⠷⣶⣦⣌⢒⡁⢆⣃⣬⡶⠾⠟⠻⢶⣶⣤⣉⡒⣌⢣⢎⢧⠩⣄⠣⠜⡡⢊⠱⢌⠣⣟⣧ ⢿⡟⣌⠲⢌⡌⠳⣄⣻⣿⣼⡞⢋⡁⢲⡜⣶⣿⣷⣶⣝⡻⣦⣼⠟⣁⠐⡢⢞⣽⣿⣷⣯⣝⡻⣶⣭⣚⢾⡇⢦⠙⡬⠑⣌⠃⣎⠱⣎⣿ ⣾⡗⣌⠣⢒⠬⡑⢦⣿⣿⡱⣌⢣⡜⣹⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⣕⣻⣏⠖⡌⢧⡹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡱⢢⣝⣻⣿⣿⢢⡙⠴⣉⠤⢋⡔⢣⡜⣻ ⣿⡇⢦⠙⡌⣒⢉⢾⣟⣿⣷⡹⢦⣝⡲⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣶⠏⣿⣯⣜⣣⣓⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣜⡳⣎⣷⣿⢻⡇⣌⠓⡬⡘⠦⡘⢥⢚⢷ ⣿⡏⠦⡙⣄⠣⢊⡒⢿⡞⣿⣽⡿⣼⣳⢏⡼⣩⣝⣶⣿⣫⠜⡴⣹⢷⣧⣏⡷⣥⢫⣍⢶⣹⢮⣽⣿⡟⣣⡟⠴⣈⠇⠦⢱⢡⡙⢆⡫⣞ ⣿⣏⠲⢡⢂⠝⢢⡙⡜⣻⣎⡻⢿⣷⣿⣯⣿⢷⢻⡭⡟⢥⢋⠴⡛⢿⣭⡻⢿⣾⣿⣾⣯⣿⣿⠟⣣⣼⠟⡬⢓⠬⣘⢡⢃⠦⡙⢆⡳⡽ ⣿⣏⠖⣌⠚⣐⠪⣅⢣⢋⠿⣷⣬⣽⣋⡛⣭⡜⢮⡑⡣⢜⡸⢄⠳⣌⠛⡷⢪⢭⢛⡛⢛⣋⣍⢶⠻⣍⠶⣡⠚⢤⠋⡜⢸⢠⠓⡜⣧⣳ ⣿⣏⠞⡠⢍⠤⠓⡤⢃⣎⠳⡜⡼⣡⠧⣙⠦⡸⠡⢎⡑⢊⠔⣉⠒⡌⠹⡰⢋⢬⠣⡝⣣⠞⡜⢎⡳⢜⠢⣅⢋⠆⣍⠲⢡⠎⡹⣜⡵⣯ ⣿⣯⠞⡱⢌⢪⡑⢆⡱⢈⠧⡙⠴⡑⢎⠰⡁⢆⡑⠢⠌⢂⠌⡠⠡⢌⠱⢠⠉⠆⡓⠬⡑⢎⡹⢌⡱⢊⡱⢌⡘⢆⠢⢍⠦⡙⡵⣎⣷⣻ ⣿⣿⣭⠓⣌⠲⣈⠆⡔⢃⠆⡑⢢⠑⠌⠂⠅⠂⠤⠁⠌⠂⠄⡁⠒⡈⠄⢃⡘⠄⡑⠢⠑⡌⠔⡊⠔⡡⢒⠰⣈⠦⡉⢆⠳⣍⠶⣽⣞⣿ ⢋⢿⣷⣋⠦⡓⠴⣈⠔⡨⢐⣡⢢⣜⡬⠕⠮⠱⠎⠱⠊⠗⠚⠒⠳⠸⠜⢢⠴⢬⡴⣁⣎⣄⠃⡜⢠⠑⡌⠒⢤⢒⡩⢎⠳⣜⢯⣷⣻⡿ ⠀⠘⣿⣽⣎⡝⠻⠟⡛⣓⠛⣭⣉⣆⢦⣉⢦⢣⡜⣤⢣⡜⣤⣉⢦⡡⢎⢤⡒⡄⢆⡩⢜⡙⡛⠿⠶⢧⣼⣱⣎⣶⡱⢎⡻⣼⣻⣾⣿⠁ ⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣾⣿⣷⢿⣼⣿⣶⣿⣾⣯⣿⣯⣷⣿⣞⣷⣻⣶⣻⣮⣽⣻⣮⣷⣻⣽⣞⣧⣿⣵⣫⣶⣲⣤⢦⡬⣥⣺⣭⣷⣿⢿⣷⠋⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣻⣟⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡿⣷⡿⣾⢿⣽⣷⡿⣷⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣳⣟⡾⣽⣳⣟⣿⣻⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣻⡿⣽⡾⡿⣽⡳⢿⡽⣯⢷⣻⣽⣿⣿⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢿⣿⣽⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣯⣟⡾⣯⢷⡿⣽⣾⣻⣞⡿⣽⣞⣷⣻⢗⣻⣽⡳⣟⣯⢿⣽⣻⣿⣿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣷⣿⣞⣷⣻⡾⣽⣻⡽⣯⣟⡷⣯⢷⣯⣟⣷⣻⢾⡽⣯⢷⣯⢿⣽⣾⣿⣻⡿⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣟⣾⣿⣽⡿⣾⣽⣾⣽⣯⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⡿⠟⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠋⠛⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⠿⠿⠟⠛⡙⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠧⠤⢾⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣦⡀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠞⠃⠀⠀⢿⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⠃⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⡿⠙⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢿⣠⡶⠤⠿⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢲⣤⠮⢿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⣾⡿⣫⢾⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠞⣩⠞⣫⡾⣡⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡴⠞⣉⡴⠋⣡⡾⢋⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⠖⠋⣁⡴⠞⠉⣠⠞⢁⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠈⠻⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣶⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡴⠖⠋⠁⣠⠴⠚⠉⢀⡰⠞⠁⣠⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⣦⡀⣀⣠⣤⡶⠶⠛⠋⠉⣹⠇⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⡤⠖⠒⠋⠉⠀⣠⡴⠒⠉⠀⢀⣠⠖⠋⢀⡤⠎⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠒⠊⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⣀⣤⠔⠚⠉⠁⠀⢀⣠⠖⠋⠁⢀⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠁⢀⣠⣤⠤⠒⠚⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⣀⠴⠚⠉⠀⠀⣠⠞⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⠿⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠏⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⠴⠒⠉⠁⠀⠀⣀⠴⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡏⠀⠀⣀⣀⡤⠴⠒⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠴⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣠⣴⠞⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢻⣞⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⠖⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠛⠿⠷⣤⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠴⠚⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣄⠀⠀⣠⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⠶⢤⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢷⡖⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣸⠈⠻⡛⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠹⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠾⢿⣥⡀⠀⡈⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⠋⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣧⡾⠉⠙⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠺⣷⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡄⠀⣠⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢰⡄⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⣰⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⠙⠶⠶⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢶⣄⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣤⣿⡋⠀⠀⠀⣯⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀⠙⠷⠞⠛⣹⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠉⠙⣇⣰⠓⠚⠻⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡶⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠶⣾⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠙⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠿⣤⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠻⢯⡄⢠⣽⣄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣧⠀⣼⠟⠒⠒⠛⠷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⠏⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢛⡃⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⣠⣤⣤⡤⠤⢤⣤⣀⡀⠀⠐⠒⡄⠀⡠⠒⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⠤⠤⣤⣤⣤⡄ ⠈⠻⣿⡤⠤⡏⠀⠉⠙⠲⣄⠀⢰⢠⠃⢀⡤⠞⠋⠉⠈⢹⠤⢼⣿⠏⠀ ⠀⠀⠘⣿⡅⠓⢒⡤⠤⠀⡈⠱⣄⣼⡴⠋⡀⠀⠤⢤⡒⠓⢬⣿⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣯⣐⢷⣀⣀⢤⡥⢾⣿⠷⢥⠤⣀⣀⣞⣢⣽⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢙⣿⠝⠀⢁⠔⡨⡺⡿⡕⢔⠀⡈⠐⠹⣟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢼⣟⢦⢶⢅⠜⢰⠃⠀⢹⡌⢢⣸⠦⠴⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣇⡬⡌⢀⡟⠀⠀⠀⢷⠀⣧⢧⣵⣿⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⢻⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡏⠀⠀⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠴⠋⠉⠉⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠙⠓⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡆⠀⠀⠀ ⢠⣤⣶⣾⣧⣤⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠴⠶⠤⢤⡀⣧⣀⣀⠀ ⠻⠶⣾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣭⣽⠇ ⠀⠀⠙⠤⠴⢤⡤⠤⠤⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠳⠖⠦⠤⠶⠦⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣄⠀⠠⠤⠤⢤⠤⣤⣤⣄⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠀⢀⠠⣒⠨⠅⢀⡀⠉⠭⠄⠐⠀⠈⠭⠭⠓⠦⣄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⢂⢕⠜⠊⠁⠀⠀⠈⠆⠀⠀⠀⡌⠉⠉⠐⢂⠀⠈⣇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⣾⠥⠄⠀⢤⢄⣶⣿⢿⣿⣉⠳⣄⠀⢀⣀⣥⣶⣶⣶⠄⠤⠀⣘⢦⡀ ⠀⡞⡍⣠⠞⢉⡝⠲⠤⠤⠴⠊⠀⠈⠙⠁⠀⠀⢹⡏⠀⠀⣀⣠⢤⠦⠕⠡⣿ ⠘⣇⠃⢿⠰⢻⡉⠓⢦⣤⣀⠀⠀⢲⡚⣃⣄⠀⠀⢉⣷⠄⡀⠁⣸⡄⢐⣱⡟ ⠀⠙⢮⡂⠀⠈⢻⡶⢤⣧⣉⠙⠓⡶⠥⢤⣀⣀⣳⣋⣀⣠⡤⢾⢻⣷⠁⡞⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠹⡄⠀⠀⠙⣤⡏⠙⠻⢿⣧⣤⣤⣼⣤⣤⣿⣤⣤⣧⣼⣾⡿⠀⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣄⠀⠀⠈⠛⢦⣄⡞⠀⠀⠉⡟⠛⢛⡿⢛⡿⣻⢿⣿⠇⠀⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⢮⣔⡩⢐⡨⢉⠛⠒⠶⠷⠶⠾⠷⠾⠷⠛⠛⡉⢀⠀⣇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠓⠦⣅⠘⠓⠰⠄⢀⡀⡀⠀⠒⣒⣈⠠⠘⠀⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠒⠶⠦⢤⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡴⠃⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠉⢉⠍⣉⡉⠉⠉⠉⠓⠲⠶⠤⣄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⠎⠀⠪⠾⢊⣁⣀⡀⠄⠀⠀⡌⠉⠁⠄⠀⢳⠀⠀ ⠀⣰⠟⣢⣤⣐⠘⠛⣻⠻⠭⠇⠀⢤⡶⠟⠛⠂⠀⢌⢷⡀ ⢸⢈⢸⠠⡶⠬⣉⡉⠁⠀⣠⢄⡀⠀⠳⣄⠑⠚⣏⠁⣪⠇ ⠀⢯⡊⠀⠹⡦⣼⣍⠛⢲⠯⢭⣁⣲⣚⣁⣬⢾⢿⠈⡜⠀ ⠀⠀⠙⡄⠀⠘⢾⡉⠙⡟⠶⢶⣿⣶⣿⣶⣿⣾⣿⠀⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⣤⡠⡙⠲⠧⠀⣠⣇⣨⣏⣽⡹⠽⠏⠀⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠦⢕⡋⠶⠄⣤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠂⡠⠀⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠒⠦⠤⣄⣀⣀⣀⣠⠔⠁⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣴⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⡄⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠦⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀ ⣠⣿⣿⣿⡿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡧⠀ ⠉⢹⣿⣿⢓⣺⡿⠟⠛⠛⢻⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀ ⠀⢸⣿⣿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢀⣿⡿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⡀⠈⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠠⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣗⠏⢪⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠀⢀⡈⣿⣷⣤⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧ ⠀⠘⠉⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⠟⡿⠟⡁⠄⠚⠉⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⠟⠁⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⡿⠿⠏⠿⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⡜⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣤⠴⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⢤⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⠶⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⡴⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢷⡄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣰⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣦⠀⠀ ⢰⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⠀ ⣿⠀⠀⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡄⠀⢹⡄ ⡏⠀⢰⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⢸⡇ ⣿⠀⠘⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡟⠀⢸⡇ ⢹⡆⠀⢹⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠃⠀⣾⠀ ⠈⢷⡀⢸⡇⠀⢀⣠⣤⣶⣶⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣶⣶⣶⣶⣤⣄⠀⠀⣿⠀⣼⠃⠀ ⠀⠈⢷⣼⠃⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⡾⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⣿⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⢠⠀⣄⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠏⠀⠀⢘⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⠀⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣟⠳⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⡿⠀⢻⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⡾⢻⡏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡄⢻⠻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⢻⠁⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⡆⢹⠒⡦⢤⠤⡤⢤⢤⡤⣤⠤⡔⡿⢁⡇⠀⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡇⠀⢣⢸⠦⣧⣼⣀⡇⢸⢀⣇⣸⣠⡷⢇⢸⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⠀⠈⠺⣄⣇⢸⠉⡏⢹⠉⡏⢹⢀⣧⠾⠋⠀⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠓⠚⠚⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡴⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠳⠶⠦⣤⣤⣤⡤⠶⠞⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⢶⣿⣿⠟⠻⠟⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣶⣿⣿⡷⣤⣶⡾⠿⠛⠛⠛⠋⠉⠉⠙⠛⠛⠿⢿⣯⣀⠻⡯⢻⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⡏⣀⣀⣀⡄⠀⣠⣤⢤⣤⣄⢠⢀⣈⣻⣿⣿⣄⣲⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠤⠾⣭⣾⣿⣿⣿⢻⡿⣿⡿⠿⠛⠛⠛⣃⣘⣙⣉⣙⣓⣃⡘⠛⠛⠛⠿⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠁⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⠿⠧⢨⣧⣤⣶⡶⠿⠿⠟⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠟⠛⠷⢶⣤⣿⣁⣿⣿⣿⡟⠋⠉⠓⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡇⣰⣾⣿⣿⣿⡟⣴⣤⣠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⢿⣷⣤⢨⣿⣷⣤⠠⣿⡁⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⣶⣿⣿⣿⡟⣹⣿⣿⣿⣾⣷⣿⣿⣿⠟⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠻⣷⣿⣷⣤⣤⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢿⣿⣿⣿⠠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣹⣿⠏⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⡟⠀⠸⣿⡇⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⡴⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣀⣂⣀⠀⠀⠀⠁⢸⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⡏⢸⣿⣁⣈⡏⠉⠒⠂⠈⣿⡟⠤⠔⠒⡟⠃⠉⣿⣿⡟⣿⣥⣾⣿⣿⣿⠙⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢏⣿⣿⣿⣿⠙⡗⠿⣟⢻⠟⢻⡿⠦⢤⣄⠈⢀⣤⢄⣤⡶⠶⡶⢾⣿⣁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣠⣀⡀⠈⣿⣿⢿⢿⡷⢷⡀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⢠⡭⠛⣏⡇⠐⠚⠓⠚⠓⠚⠉⣜⣀⣿⡿⣿⢹⣃⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣄ ⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠓⠹⢿⣼⣾⣿⠀⠉⠒⠠⠤⠤⠤⠐⠋⠀⠀⠈⠑⠢⠤⣀⣀⣀⠤⠜⢻⡿⢼⣵⡇⠀⠈⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣽⣿⣹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⢉⣎⠀⠑⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠃⢈⡿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡗⠁⢀⣑⣄⠀⠑⢄⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⠛⢻⡆⢰⡏⠀⣷⠀⣿⠃⠀⡜⢸⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣞⡇⢸⡟⣿⡌⢧⡀⠈⠳⣤⡿⠛⠛⠂⣿⠀ ⣿⣶⣿⣅⢸⣇⣀⣿⣦⠏⠀⣼⡇⣼⠟⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⣾⠟⠁⣼⠛⠻⣧⢸⣷⣄⠀⠙⣷⣤⣤⡄⢻⣤ ⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⣱⠃⠀⡜⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⣹⠈⠢⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡴⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠈⢆⠀⠘⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠁⢀⠞⠀⡤⢴⣾⣽⣭⣿⣿⠒⠚⢳⡤⣀⠀⠀⣀⡤⠞⢫⣴⠟⠛⠛⠳⣦⣀⡀⠀⠀⣤⣤⣤⠈⢆⠀⠈⢆⠀⠀⠀ ⣀⣀⣀⢀⡴⠋⠀⡰⠋⣀⠔⡏⠉⠉⠉⠉⢻⣿⠀⠀⣾⠷⣈⠉⠉⠁⠀⡤⠿⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⣷⣿⣿⣷⣤⣿⠉⠉⠀⠈⣆⠀⠈⢆⠀⠀ ⠿⢋⣽⠯⠤⠄⣚⡷⠋⡁⠀⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡄⢸⠃⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⢻⠀⠀⢰⣿⡏⢹⠉⢣⡉⠓⠒⡤⠤⣸⣄⡀⠘⡄⠀ ⠒⠉⠀⠀⠴⠊⠉⡇⢸⣿⡀⢿⠒⠦⠄⢀⣀⣿⣧⣧⣤⡄⠀⡇⠀⠀⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⢇⠀⣸⣿⠀⣼⣆⡀⡏⠳⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠒ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢧⠀⣿⣇⠸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⣿⡇⠀⢰⠀⠀⡎⠀⠀⠀⣤⣾⣿⡿⠟⢸⣱⡏⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡀⢁⣤⡄⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⠀⠈⡄⡘⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⡏⠀⠀⢠⢃⠙⡃⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⠀⣿⣧⠀⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡀⠀⢹⠃⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⢠⠇⠸⠟⠁⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡄⢸⡿⠆⠘⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣇⠀⢈⠀⡀⠀⣠⣿⠏⠀⢠⡏⢀⣾⡂⠀⢀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠤⠖⠒⠒⠒⠒⠤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⡔⠏⢸⠈⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡸⠀⠀⠀⢀⡜⡘⠀⢀⠀⡇⠱⡀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠁⢠⣄⣠⢊⣘⡒⢀⠌⠀⢓⣊⡙⢄⢠⣄⠸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢼⠀⢇⡻⡁⠑⠛⡻⢸⠀⠀⣟⠛⠊⠁⣿⢹⠀⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄⠸⡄⡇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⢉⠏⢀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣘⡆⠈⢹⠀⠀⠀⡨⠥⢅⡀⠀⠀⡎⠉⠀⡎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠢⣄⠀⢳⣄⠈⠑⠒⠊⠁⣀⡞⠁⣤⣟⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡞⢹⠈⠳⠤⣀⡠⠞⢹⠳⡶⠇⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠞⠀⢸⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⡐⢸⠀⠱⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠴⠊⠙⢄⠀⠘⡄⢸⠀⠀⢀⠃⡸⠀⢀⡽⠑⠤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣀⠤⠒⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⢤⢱⡀⠀⠀⠀⢠⢃⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠒⠤⣀

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠛⠛⠛⠻⣿⣿⣿⡟⠛⠛⠛⠛⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠿⠿⠛⠻⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛ ⠿⠉⠾⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⢨⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠉⠁⠀⠆⠦⠦⠀⠀⠠⠰⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠐⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⡀⢸⣿⣿⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣤⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠐⠀⠀⠂⠀⣿⣿⢘⣿⣿⠇⠈⢿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠒⠐⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠖⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⡟⢀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠅⢀⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠈⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⠋⠁⣈⣽⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣦⡀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠇⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣧⣭⣁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⠋⠘⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣷⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⢹⣿⣿⡄⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣠⣾⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾⣿⣇⠈⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠟⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠂⠂⠀⠀⣈⣿⣿⣆⠑⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠘⢿⣿⣿⣇⣀⣀⡀⠀⣀⣀⣤⣶⣾⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⣿⢷⣶⣤⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠙⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠻⠿⣿⣶⣤⣼⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣄⣀⣀⣠⣤⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣴⣦⣾⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡞ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⡛⠉⠛⠋⠉⠉⠉⢙⣿⣿⣋⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢠⣼⣿⣿⣯⠻⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣿⠟⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⣴⣶⣶⡶⠾⠿⠿⠿⠛⠿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣦⣴⣿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣄⣀⡀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣾⡿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠿⣷⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡿⠋⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠋⢉⠻⣿⣦⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣷⠀⢰⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⡀⠰⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠈⠀⢻⣿⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡿⢀⣻⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣽⣿⡄⠀⠀⢰⣿⠇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣷⣦⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⡿⠁⢰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⡏⠀⣹⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣄⢀⣾⡟⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠿⡷⠶⠶⢾⠿⠟⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⠶⠿⠾⠿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⡟⠀⣠⡆ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⠿⠛⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⠏⠙⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠘⣿⣧⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣆⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣏⣽⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣼⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠿⠋⠀⠀⣀⣴⣾⣿⠟⠁⠀ ⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡏⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠀⢀⣴⣾⡿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣾⠟⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣽⣷⣤⣤⣼⣯⣤⣤⣿⣧⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣬⣤⣭⣿⣷⣦⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⣿⣿⣥⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⣤⣤⣤⣦

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢐⡖⠒⠒⠒⠒⠶⠤⠤⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢀⣄⣀⣄⢀⣿⠤⠼⠟⢁⣤⣀⢠⡞⣲⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠑⠢⢤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠉⠉⠓⠮⣉⠁⢠⡶⢦⠘⣷⣿⣤⡿⠿⠦⠤⠤⠤⣄⣀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡷⣜⠓⣯⠴⠋⠁⣀⣠⠴⠖⠒⠒⠦⠤⢌⣉⠒⠤⣀⠀⠈⠢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠀⠉⠻⣅⣀⡰⠎⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠓⠲⢽⣦⣄⠈⢦⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢆⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⣦⣷⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⠀⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠳⠂ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣇⠀⠀⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡄⠀⢸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢧⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠃⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⠀⠀⠀⢸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠁⢀⣀⡀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡇⠀⠻⠿⠃⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡙⣧⠀⠀⠀⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠳⣄⢲⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣾⡿⠻⠉⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⠶⢤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⡿⠟⠉⠹⡄⠘⣄⠀⠀⠀⢨⢧⠀⠈⠛⠳⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣆⠘⡆⠀⠀⠀⣟⣇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢷⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣟⣠⣤⠤⣤⡄⠀⠀⢹⡀⠸⡀⠀⠀⢸⣾⡀⠀⢦⣤⣤⣈⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠘⡇⠀⠀⠀⢷⠀⢷⣀⣀⠬⠅⡇⠀⢸⡆⠀⠀⠙⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡆⠀⠀⠈⡇⣿⣡⣤⣀⣰⡇⠀⣸⠅⠀⠀⢀⢻⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣻⡇⠀⣠⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡄⠀⢰⡿⠟⠋⠉⠙⢿⠁⢠⠏⠀⠀⢠⡟⠀⢻⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠧⢿⡇⢠⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⡀⠀⠙⣆⠈⢷⣄⠀⠀⢀⡼⢠⠟⠀⢀⡤⢾⣿⢀⢸⣽⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣇⢸⣇⣼⣿⣿⡿⡇⠈⠛⢷⣄⡈⠲⣌⠛⣦⣴⠏⡰⢃⣠⠶⢋⡀⣼⣿⣼⣸⣟⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠨⣻⣷⣮⣷⣄⣀⣾⢿⣻⠇⠀⢸⢀⣿⡟⢩⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣤⠶⣾⡟⠛⠛⢻⡲⢤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢻⣿⣿⣟⡿⣿⠀⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⣮⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⢘⠏⠀⢠⠇⣾⡿⠀⣾⣿⠟⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⣿⣿⣿⡂⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠋⢀⣿⢃⣼⣿⠯⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⠤⣤⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣸⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠳⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠞⠙⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣹⡏⠀⠉⠳⢦⣄⠀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⡾⠟⠋⢻⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠛⠁⠉⠋⠁⠀⠀⠙⣇⣀⣴⡶⠛⠉⠉⠉⠛⠿⣷⣦⣄⠈⣿⠙⠷⢦⣄⣀⣤⠶⢻⡏⠁⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣶⠦⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢿⣟⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠓⠲⠾⣿⣴⣾⡿⠟⠛⠉⠉⠉⠙⠻⢿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⠤⠤⢤⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠲⢤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣤⣼⣧⣭⣉⠻⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⢏⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡀⠀⠈⠉⢻⣿⣙⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⣰⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⠀⠀⠀⣸⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢮⣿⣳⢦⠀⢻⣿⡜⣟⡷⢶⣾⡿⣅⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡴⢿⠀⣠⣴⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⠀⠈⢻⣿⣧⢄⣝⣿⡶⠶⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠢⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⢿⠻⠀⢸⡾⣿⣏⡤⠤⠤⠤⣤⣄⣠⡶⢶⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠁⠀⠀⢸⣿⡿⣿⡿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⣸⠏⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⡟⠀⣬⡷⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡏⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠻⣶⠦⣤⣤⣿⢹⡇⠀⠀⢰⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣧⣸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠁⠀⢠⣾⠑⠻⡿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⣴⡟⠉⠉⠙⠛⠛⣿⣦⣧⡀⠀⡾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢙⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡴⢞⡿⠁⠀⢠⡾⠁⠀⠀⢻⣏⣳⡴⣚⡿⠦⠤⠬⠭⠤⠌⠩⠿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠿⣿⣿⡟⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡼⣫⣴⠟⠁⠀⣠⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣙⣻⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠶⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⡶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠘⣦⡙⠲⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⠀⠀⢀⢤⡀⠀⣀⣴⠚⠁⡿⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⢀⠈⢷⡄⠀⠙⢦⡀⣀⣀⠀⡠⠋⣾⠾⢢⣧⠤⣼⣶⣿⠇⠀⣸⠃⡀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡆⠀⣧⡈⢻⡄⢠⡟⡟⣠⢿⡏⠀⠘⣁⣠⠴⠇⢀⣈⣿⡙⢦⣀⡿⣾⢀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⡀⠙⣕⠀⢿⡞⢠⣷⠃⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⣠⠞⠉⠀⠀⠉⠢⡻⠷⠇⡸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⠀⠘⠁⠈⣠⣿⣿⢀⡤⠒⠚⠛⠲⡄⣿⢰⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣄⡰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣁⣀⣠⡞⠁⠈⣽⠋⠀⠀⠀⠸⠆⣿⠈⢦⡁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣸⣧⠤⣤⣒⣒⣊⣉⣻⡄⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠚⠫⠤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠶⣼⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠴⢃⣀⣀⣙⡶⠶⠒⠋⠉⠀⣿⡛⠉⠀⠀⢀⣰⡟⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠯⣉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠓⠛⠋⣩⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣉⣶⡤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⠤⠖⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠑⠒⠤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⡄⢤⢰⠒⢶⠶⣲⠲⣖⣺⠋⣩⠝⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠖⢿⣶⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠛⠒⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠋⠀⠳⠞⠀⣈⣤⢀⠴⠛⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣶⢶⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⣿⣿⣀⣀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠑⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣈⡼⠥⠄⣀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣇⣸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢀⣠⣄⠀⠀⠀⣾⡿⠿⣇⠈⢷⡄⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⢤⡤⠤⢬⠓⢸⡄⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⡋⠀⠀⢀⣴⡆ ⠸⣿⣶⣿⣗⣲⣿⣷⣶⣿⣧⠀⠙⣾⡄⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢷⣽⡄⠘⡆⠀⣷⣿⣿⣿⠛⢿⡷⣄⣠⣿⣾⡏ ⠀⠈⠛⠿⣿⣿⣷⣬⣿⣼⠛⣶⣀⠘⣷⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⠀⣻⡇⣷⠘⣦⣾⣷⠛⣻⡿⠋⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠿⣿⠏⠀⠈⠻⣷⡾⡇⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⣏⢸⣿⣇⣿⢛⣻⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⡇⠀⢀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣵⡀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣾⡉⠛⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡿⡾⢿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⠀⠀⠀⠈⡟⠛⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣴⣶⣦⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡿⠛⢿⣿⣿⡿⠛⢿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣴⣶⣦⠀ ⠸⠿⠿⠿⠇⠀⠸⠿⠿⠀⠀⠸⠿⠿⠇⠀⠀⠿⠿⠇⠀⠸⠿⠿⠿⠇ ⢠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⡄ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⢿⣿⣿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⣿⣿⡿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⡏⠉⢹⣿⣿⠛⠉⠉⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⣿⣿⡏⠉⢹⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⣧⣤⣼⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣧⣤⣼⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠀⠛⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠛⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠟⣿⣷⡀⠀⢀⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠟⠀⠈⣿⣷⣰⣿⡿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⡟⠀⠹⣿⣦⠀⣴⣾⣶⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣄⠀⠈⠋⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣾⣿⠟⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⢀⣴⣶⣄⡹⣿⣇⠀⠘⣿⣧⠀⠀ ⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⣆⠀ ⢠⡿⠿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆ ⠁⢀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣄⣀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⠛⠛⠿⠿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠙⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠋

⢀⣠⣶⣷⣿⣿⣿⢋⡄⠀⠀⠀⡟⣠⣾⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣿⣿⡀⣾⣿⣿⡿⡟⢠⣇⠘⢦⡹⣯⣷⡹⣶⣿⠛⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠘⠛⠛⠛⢻⣿⣷⣿⣱⣧⣸⢠⣧⣿⣿⣻⣿⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣷⣇⠠⠜⠁⠈⣷⢿⡟⢿⣞⢿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⠟⠋⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠻⠛⣿⠀⣈⡿⢀⣿⡄⣷⠰⣼⡧⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠻⣿⣋⣠⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠛⠿⠿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢹⣧⡟⠀⡾⣿⣿⣿⣇⢹⣿⣦⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣴⠿⠟⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣴⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡏⢀⡴⢃⢿⣿⣿⣿⣬⢻⣧⠉⠉⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⠈⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⡇⠻⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢠⠏⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣷⢠⠙⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠈⠀⡾⠋⢹⣿⣿⣿⣯⡤⠤⠶⠶⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡟⡇⠀⠀⠀⣿⢿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⢻⡟⣿⣿⣿⠓⠀⠀⣇⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣤⠴⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⢸⠇⠀⠀⠀⢸⣾⣷⠹⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠿⣿⡿⢳⡀⢠⣾⣿⠟⠋⢉⣠⠔⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠋⠀⡼⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡜⣧⠘⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠿⠃⠈⢣⡈⢿⣄⡠⠔⣋⣤⡖⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡞⠁⣀⣼⣃⣀⡀⠀⠀⢸⡏⣇⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠈⠛⠋⢹⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⡟⠀⢻⣿⣟⠁⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⠿⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡀⠀⠀⠻⣄⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣾⣿⠏⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⣹⡿⣿⡟⠁⠀⢀⡴⠃⢹⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣧⣀⣀⡤⠖⢿⣧⡾⠋⠀⣠⠴⠋⠀⠀⠠⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣤⡄⠀⠈⣇⠀⡖⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣿⡇⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣶⣤⣽⠀⢷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣧⠀⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠈⣇⠀⠀⠀⡴⠀⠀⣿⡷⠀⠀⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⡇⣿⠀⠀⢠⡇⠀⢀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢹⣶⡤⠤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣹⣦⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⡇⣿⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⢰⣿⠁⣡⡶⠟⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣾⡿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠙⠒⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠁⠿⠀⠀⣿⣆⣀⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣶⠿⠛⢿⡷⠀⠀⠀⡴⠞⢛⡷⠤⣤⣄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⡟⢿⣿⠁⣇⠀⠀⢰⣇⠠⡿⠁⠀⣸⠏⡆ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢋⠟⢪⣁⢠⣸⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⡥⣄⣐⠎⢀⡆ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣈⡾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣁⠗⠒⢤⣠⠞⡛⣯⠉⠐⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⡐⢫⠈⠹⢿⡿⠟⠋⠀⢀⡀⠀⡯⡕⠂⡼⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠠⡀⢸⡆⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⣸⡀⢠⡺⢡⢷⡽⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢰⠁⡈⣿⡤⠊⠀⠀⠈⢹⠋⣦⣡⠾⢊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡏⢀⣀⣱⣧⠀⢀⠀⠀⢀⠝⢶⠇⢸⣋⢗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠹⣏⠂⣟⣺⢢⣬⠴⣾⡣⣤⢬⣢⡀⠈⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢻⠖⠁⠀⡜⣎⢸⣷⣿⠁⠀⠟⠃⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⠇⠀⢠⡇⠀⠙⢻⣧⠹⢄⠂⠈⢦⠀⠀⠉⠐⢦⠀⠀ ⢀⣎⢹⡦⣀⠀⢀⠀⠀⣼⡇⢀⠀⢜⣿⡿⠂⠤⠐⢢⢤⢡⠀ ⠈⢿⣷⣿⣿⣕⣁⣠⣴⡿⠀⠀⠷⠐⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠺⠉⠀ ⠀⠀⠫⠚⠙⢷⣤⡾⠟⠃⠀⡸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣶⠜⠀⠠⡃⣜⣀⠀⠀⡀⢀⡀⣀⡀⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⢳⠜⠙⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢲⣶⣶⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡇⠈⠙⠻⢿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣶⡿⠿⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣇⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⠋⠉⠛⠿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠿⠛⢿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠙⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣶⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠟⠁⠈⢿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⣿⣶⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢠⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣷⡀⠀ ⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡆⠀⠀⠀⢸⠿⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠋⠉⠀⢠⡗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣧⠀ ⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡄ ⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣈⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡇ ⠀⠘⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⠁⠈⠛⢶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣴⠿⠋⠙⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡇ ⠀⠀⠸⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠞⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠓⠶⠶⠶⠛⠛⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢦⡀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⠏⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣰⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣷⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣿⡿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⢿⣿⣶⣤⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣤⣴⣾⡿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣶⣶⣶⣦⡀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠻⢿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⡿⠿⠛⠋⠉⢀⣤⣴⣶⣶⣦⡄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣰⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⢻⣧⣴⣿⢿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣭⣭⣽⣟⡛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⣻⣽⣿⣷⣦⣤⣤⡀⠀⣤⣾⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⢈⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣸⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡏⠀⠀⠹⣿⠀⣠⣾⠟⠋⠉⠙⠛⢿⣷⣄⠀⣶⣿⡿⠉⢁⣦⠀⠈⠹⣿⡄⣿⣏⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣿⣇⣀⠀⠀ ⢰⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣠⠀⢀⣿⡇⠀⠀⢰⣿⣰⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣦⢹⡟⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⣽⣿⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠸⠿⠛⠛⣻⡧⠀ ⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⣼⡏⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⢼⣷⠀⠀⠀⠈⢀⣠⣾⡿⠃⠘⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣷⣶ ⠈⢿⣇⠀⠀⠀⢹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠁⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠻⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⢀⣼⡿ ⠀⠘⢿⣶⣤⣶⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠇⠀⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠘⠟⠀⠀⠀⣸⡿⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣶⠿⠋⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠋⠹⣿⣶⣤⣾⡿⠋⠀⠀⠈⢿⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣼⡿⠁⠀⢹⣧⠀⠀⣠⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣤⣶⣶⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣉⡉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣙⣛⠿⠿⠿⠿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⢘⣿⣷⣾⢿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠋⠁⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⣴⣾⡶⣾⡟⣿⣿⣻⢟⣫⡿⠗⠌⠚⢉⡠⡤⠶⣒⣀⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠰⠦ ⢀⣻⣿⣼⡟⠒⣯⣽⢿⠏⣉⣤⣴⣶⠽⣢⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣅⣠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣴⣯⣾⣾⣿⣿⡿⣻⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣅⣀⣼⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣻⠟⠙⠿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢛⣵⣾⣿⢀⠤⠒⠈⠙⠻⣮⣽⣛⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⠿⡏⢷⡒⠠⠤ ⣿⣿⡿⢛⣥⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡁⠀⣶⣞⣿⡗⢹⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⡇⡇⠀⢳⡄⠀ ⠟⡩⠒⢹⢻⣾⡟⣭⣦⡈⠣⠀⠉⢋⠞⠁⣸⣿⣿⣇⣽⢹⣿⣿⣧⢹⠀⠈⢯⠀ ⠊⠀⠀⠸⣟⣗⡟⢦⠻⢗⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠰⠋⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡸⣿⣿⡁⠀⠀⠈⣷ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠹⢿⣌⢂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣿⣏⡉⣿⢣⢿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⢹ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣆⠈⢌⠄⠑⠤⣀⡀⢠⣾⣟⣹⣿⡻⠿⣿⣮⣾⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠘ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⡄⠈⠫⠄⡇⠀⠈⣿⣿⠊⠁⠀⠹⡕⡀⠻⡛⣿⣿⣿⣧⠰⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠁⠀⠀⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⢹⣵⠀⠈⠺⣌⢿⣿⣆⢣⠀ ⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡸⠀⢀⣼⡿⠥⠬⠖⢠⢄⣸⣷⣧⠀⠐⠽⢿⣿⣿⣾⣆ ⠀⠀⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⣸⡿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢻⠻⣿⣧⡀⠀⠈⡏⢿⣿⣿ ⣬⣩⡠⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⣠⠟⣿⣇⣀⣤⣤⠎⣁⡈⠀⣿⣿⣷⣄⢐⣿⠘⣿⣿

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⢞⣡⠞⠉⣰⠾⠉⠉⢧⡀⢀⠀⠹⡌⠱⡌⣓⣦⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠟⣻⠁⠀⣰⠋⠀⡀⠀⠘⣿⠈⠀⠀⠸⡀⠹⡄⡐⡶⣍⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⢾⡗⡹⠃⠀⢠⠏⠀⢠⠃⠀⡆⡿⠀⡀⡄⠀⣇⠀⢳⡟⣼⡻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⣰⣿⣸⠃⡤⠀⣾⠀⣆⡼⠀⢀⣧⡇⢀⡇⣇⠀⢸⣰⢸⣿⢸⣷⠈⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢁⣿⣏⢰⣧⣤⡇⢠⣿⡇⠀⣸⣿⣤⣾⡿⢹⣇⣸⣿⣾⠛⣷⣿⣷⣌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⣾⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⢸⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⢹⣿⣿⠛⠷⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡿⠋⢹⢹⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠈⣿⡟⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⢸⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠞⣻⣿⡏⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣫⣋⣥⣤⡸⣾⣿⡟⢸⠶⣾⣾⣿⡇⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡂⢸⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠾⠿⢿⣿⡠⣀⣿⣿⣿⣧⠙⠁⣀⣼⣿⠉⡾⠟⠀⠀⠸⠿⣿⡿⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⢸⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡎⡿⡿⣮⣽⣿⡟⢿⡆⠀⠈⠉⠉⠈⠀⠀⠀⢦⠀⣸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⢸⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠰⠀⠳⢿⣿⣿⡀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⢀⢿⠿⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⢸⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⠈⠀⠀⢸⣻⣧⠙⢶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣨⣯⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡅⢸⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⡒⠓⡺⠋⡼⣿⡆⠈⠻⣿⣶⣄⡀⠀⢀⣴⣷⡌⠱⣄⠀⠀⢀⡿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⢸⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠎⠘⣤⠊⠁⠀⣄⠼⠉⢆⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⡟⠻⣟⣲⠃⠀⢹⣉⠦⠚⠀⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⢸⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡞⠁⠀⠀⠈⠳⣄⠰⠱⡄⠀⠘⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⣁⠤⠖⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⣦⠶⢦⣤⣀⠀⢘⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡴⠞⠉⢀⡇⠤⠤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⡹⣄⣀⣸⠀⢀⣰⢄⡴⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡻⡆⠀⠀⣏⣆⠘⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⢿⠀⠀⠀⠑⢤⣀⡀⠉⠓⠦⣀⠀⠉⠻⣌⠋⠐⠉⣠⠞⢀⣀⠤⠖⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣏⠀⣷⠀⠀⣧⠸⡄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠀⡿⡀⠀⠀⣞⠁⠀⠈⠉⠒⣶⠒⢻⢦⣀⠀⠳⣄⣴⠵⠮⢭⣶⠤⠤⢤⡴⠒⠒⠉⠩⢾⣇⠀⢻⡆⠀⠀⠀⢳⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⢇⡇⠀⠀⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⠀⢸⢸⡍⠉⠉⠙⠁⠀⠀⠘⣿⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡸⢹⠀⢸⣿⡀⡄⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀⠀⠸⡇⠀⠀⢸⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠇⠀⢸⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡏⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠸⡆⢸⣿⣯⠀⠀⠀⢸⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠀⠀⣷⠀⠀⠀⣇⠀⠀⠀⠸⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢅⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠓⠒⡇⢸⣿⣿⡷⡀⠀⠀⠇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠎⠀⠀⢀⡴⣿⠀⠀⠀⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠸⠀⠀⡌⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⢿⠸⡜⣿⣿⡈⢦⡀⠰⢄ ⠀⠀⠀⣸⡦⠔⠋⠀⢿⠀⠀⠀⡘⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠈⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⢠⠏⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⣟⠛⣇⠀⠙⢶⡀ ⠀⠀⡁⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠦⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢎⣃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠇⢸⡀⢸⡇⠀⠀⣧ ⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡆⠀⠀⡀⢸⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⢸⠘⢺⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠀⣄⢸⣿⠀⡼⣇⠀⢻⡀⠀⢸ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⣿⠈⡇⠀⠀⣇⠀⢸⠂⠀⢇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⡼⠀⠀⠀⣿⢸⣿⡾⠁⢹⡄⠈⣧⠀⠸ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⡏⠀⢣⠀⠀⣿⠀⣸⣦⠀⠸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⡧⢆⠀⢸⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠀⠀⣸⣾⣿⣙⡷⣾⣷⣶⣿⣆⠀ ⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢷⠀⢸⠀⠀⠘⡆⠀⡇⠀⢯⢼⡇⠀⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣾⠀⢸⠀⠀⡾⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⡏⠝⠲⡝⢿⣬⠻⣷ ⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⢣⠀⡇⠀⢸⣼⡇⠀⠈⢆⠀⠀⠀⢟⣿⠀⡇⠀⣸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢿⡇⠀⣧⣽⣾⣏⡆⣿ ⢰⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣶⠁⠀⠀⠇⠸⡄⡇⢸⠘⠛⠁⠀⠀⠘⣆⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⣇⢠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾⣿⢸⡇⠀⢸⠿⡏⣿⢿⢹ ⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢦⠀⠀⡿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡇⠘⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡄⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣤⡇⠀⢼⣱⣧⣟⢸⠈ ⠸⡄⠀⠀⣀⡠⠬⢧⢠⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⡇⠀⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⣄⠀⠀⢰⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠁⣇⣀⣼⣿⡯⣇⠸⢠ ⢰⠀⠐⠉⠀⠁⠘⢢⡛⣿⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠼⢿⣷⡦⢤⣄⣀⣀⣀⣀⣠⠤⡤⠤⠤⢼⣇⣠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⢠⡇⠀⠉⣿⣷⣿⠀⠀ ⠸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠳⣿⣠⠴⠒⠉⠀⠀⠀⡇⠘⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡟⢨⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣾⡇⠘⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀ ⠀⡆⠀⣀⣀⣀⠀⢀⣸⣇⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣸⡃⣀⣀⣀⣈⣑⣂⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⣇⠀⣀⠀⣀⢀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⠀⣀⣀⢀⣀⣀⣀⠁

⣶⢶⡇⠀⠀⠀⡠⠊⠑⢄⣀⡴⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠑⢶⡒⠒⠒⠀ ⠹⠉⠀⠀⠀⡼⠓⠢⠄⣀⠎⠉⠒⠠⠤⣀⣀⠀⢀⢀⡆⠠⠀⡀⢀⢞⢉⣦⠀⠀ ⠂⠀⠀⠀⢰⠇⠀⠀⢰⡏⠉⠁⠐⡖⠒⣶⠏⣽⡯⣾⡇⢠⣇⢷⠱⠒⠱⡀⢧⠀ ⣴⣼⠎⠀⣸⠀⣰⢃⣾⠀⢸⠀⣼⢡⣾⣿⣼⣿⣱⣿⡇⢸⣿⣼⡇⣇⢠⠱⡼⡀ ⠉⠉⡁⠀⣟⣰⡟⢸⣿⠀⣾⣰⣿⣾⢻⣿⠟⣿⡿⣿⡇⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⡜⡄⣿⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣧⣾⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⠇⣸⡏⣦⡿⠠⣿⣿⡟⣟⣒⣟⣹⣿⣷⢹⠀ ⠀⠀⠘⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⢿⣿⣿⡿⡍⢸⢹⢿⠫⢸⢻⣿⠎⢿⡿⠘⡟⣿⡏⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⡿⡧⡏⢜⣿⡇⠈⠀⠁⠁⠀⠀⠈⠀⢀⠀⠠⣚⡇⣛⣀⣀⣀ ⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣿⣿⣷⣕⡻⠄⠙⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠇⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢧⠑⢤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠀⣠⡎⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠙⢿⣶⣤⣤⣀⣀⣼⣿⠃⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⢻⣿⣿⣿⠁⡟⠑⠤⡀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢿⠿⣿⣿⡟⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⡇⠀⠐⡀⠀⠈⠒⠄⣀⠀⢸⡧⡈⢻⣷⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠘⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠹⢮⢔⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

⣀⡑⠲⣶⣿⣄⣠⣠⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⡤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢧⡩⠿⠝⢙⣿⣿⣿⡟⢀⠰⡉⠠⢧⠁⠇⠐⠴⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠙⠄⣀⣼⣿⣿⡯⠤⠈⠯⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠨⠃⠀⠀ ⡀⢀⣤⣾⢿⢻⡛⠿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣄⣈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡟⡯⠛⢁⠜⣿⣿⡭⠅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⠥⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡇⢁⠔⣡⣾⣿⣷⡤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠪⡶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣏⣤⣾⡿⡿⠑⣿⡟⢁⠀⠄⣠⠖⢦⡆⣄⣄⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⣇⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀ ⣿⣿⣫⣾⣿⢉⣿⣾⠷⡿⢞⢳⣴⢣⣿⠈⣎⣧⣜⣽⣸⣷⣽⣿⣶⠖⢋⡽⣻⢟ ⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⡋⣽⣿⣾⢁⠀⠈⠉⠈⠀⠁⠉⠁⠈⢀⣿⢻⣿⣽⣣⣶⢏⣾⣧⣿ ⣿⣿⣦⣄⣹⣿⡶⣿⣿⡏⣄⠀⠀⢀⢀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠌⣧⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣭⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⠙⠦⡐⠶⠤⠤⢔⣴⡟⢰⢣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⡿⣿⡟⢌⢌⠄⡀⢴⣧⠊⡠⢢⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣶⣤⡸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡝⣻⣖⢝⠂⢀⠐⠁⠉⢆⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡩⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⢊⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣹⣕⠐⣡⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⠿⠿⠿⠿

⠀⣠⢿⠛⠋⠙⡉⠁⠸⡰⣹⣄⠙⡽⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿ ⢠⡏⣄⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿ ⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣁⡉⠁⣼⣿⠿⡛⢻⣿⡧⠀⠀⠀⠀⢐⣿⣿⣿ ⢸⣿⣿⠡⢪⣍⠛⠀⠀⠙⡸⠿⣸⠀⢻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⢿⣟⠈⠮⠭⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⣸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠈⢿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠄⠀⡀⠀⢠⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠄⠒⠀⠉⠀⣠⣯⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢱⡢⢄⣀⣀⣠⣮⣾⠇⡇⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⣀⠴⣿⠓⠒⠚⠋⠀⢸⠃⠀⠐⠤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⢠⠊⠠⢾⡿⣤⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⡠⠊⠀⠀⠈⠒⢄⡀⠀⢻⣿⣿ ⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠙⠹⠷⠤⠬⠓⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠈⠂⢸⣿⣿

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣴⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣤⣤⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠇⠀⠀ ⠀⠉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠁⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆ ⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣤⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣛⠛⠛⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⢛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣯⣛⡿⣦⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀ ⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⣰⣿⣿⠿⢿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⡛⠛⠿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀ ⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣾⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡖⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠃⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣛⣿⣿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣷⣿⣿⣷⣄⣀⣠⣤⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠘⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡉⠛⠛⠿⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣷⣬⣛⣀⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣮⣿⡿⣆⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣄⠀⠉⠉⠙⠿⣿⣿⣍⣙⡛⠛⠛⠿⢿⣿⡀⠀⠀⣼⡟⢋⣿⠟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⢹⡇⠀⣰⡟⠀⠈⠁⠞⢻⣿⡿⣫⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠉⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⡀⠀⠀⣰⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣋⡴⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⢿⣿⣿⡿⣿⡇⠀⠈⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣁⡀⠉⠉⠉⠀⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⢷⠈⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢀⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⢠⣤⠞⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡧⠶⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣶⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣦⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣶⣄⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣧⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣆ ⠈⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠻⣿⣿⠿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⡿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠋⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⠿⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠂⡀⠀⠀⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣤⣴⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣥⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢄⠀⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⣀⣀⣤⣴⠶⣶⣿⠟⣻⡭⠟⠲⣦⣀⣀⣠⡞⠓⠮⢭⣝⡻⢶⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣽⠟⠉⣠⠾⣫⠴⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠳⣭⡻⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡏⢀⣼⣯⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⣹⣿⠏⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿ ⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⣾⡟⢠⡿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣻⣾⣿⣾⣽⣦⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿ ⠀⠈⠉⠒⠂⢤⠋⢠⣿⣱⠟⠀⠀⠀⠢⠄⡀⠀⣠⢞⡽⠉⠈⠁⠋⠘⠁⠀⠑⢏⠲⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿ ⣀⡠⠄⠀⠀⠀⢇⣾⡿⠁⠀⢰⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⢁⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠳⡄⠙⢦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿ ⢡⠀⠀⠀⠠⠔⢻⣿⡀⡀⢠⣿⣄⠀⣠⣾⢷⣶⣾⣤⣤⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⠶⠾⣷⡄⢠⡷⠢⣼⣿⠛⠉⠑⠠⣀⠤⠊⣿ ⠀⠢⠐⠁⠀⠀⣾⠋⣿⣆⠈⠸⣏⠀⣻⢡⣴⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⠿⡷⣦⡄⡇⠀⣽⠃⣴⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠠⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠀⣿⣿⣷⣄⢹⡄⣯⡿⠁⠘⣿⣿⣾⡟⢏⣆⠀⠀⠀⠸⢹⣿⣿⣿⠁⠈⢿⡇⡼⣣⠞⣿⣿⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⣿ ⠀⠄⠂⢉⣠⣼⡧⠶⠛⠉⢹⠈⠻⢿⣿⣇⠀⠀⢻⣿⡿⠃⠈⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⠏⠀⠀⣸⠟⣿⣁⢀⣇⣈⡉⠛⠻⠶⣦⣤⣀⠁⣿ ⠀⣴⣾⠛⠉⡡⠤⠔⠒⠊⢹⡆⢀⠘⢧⠘⠳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣷⡶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠚⠁⣼⠟⣡⢿⠁⠈⠉⠉⠒⠢⢀⣉⣽⠇⣿ ⠀⠈⠉⠻⠷⣶⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⣧⠈⣧⡘⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⣡⡼⠁⡾⠀⠀⣀⣠⣶⡾⢿⡋⠀⠀⣿ ⢀⠎⠐⠒⠒⠢⢿⣎⠙⣷⣶⣼⣆⠈⢻⠺⣄⠀⠀⠀⢲⣶⣶⣭⣭⣭⣽⣶⣶⡆⠀⠀⠀⢼⡟⣹⢁⣴⣷⣾⣿⣿⡉⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠢⣿ ⠂⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⢿⡄⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⡇⠘⢦⠀⠀⠈⢻⡟⠛⠛⠛⠛⢻⡟⠀⠀⠀⢠⠞⠀⣿⣿⡿⣛⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿ ⠢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠱⠀⠘⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡇⢙⣦⡀⠱⣄⠀⠀⠛⠶⣤⣤⡶⠟⠀⠀⢀⠴⠋⣠⢾⣹⡟⢧⣸⡏⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⠤⠤⠤⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⣴⣶⢶⣾⣿⡇⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠙⢲⣬⣙⠦⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠤⣚⣡⢴⡏⢡⣾⣻⡏⣳⡟⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⣼⣾⣿⣿⣿⡄⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⡍⠉⠀⠉⠉⠘⠉⠁⠉⢹⣷⣿⣿⣯⣤⣙⢲⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿ ⣀⠤⠤⢼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣟⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⡼⠟⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣸⣿⡿⠟⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⢀⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠉⠛⠿⢶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿ ⠀⢀⣠⣼⠿⣯⡁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⠏⢛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠈⠉⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⣿ ⡶⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠙⣦⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⡿⠙⠛⠛⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⣿⠟⣵⣦⠽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣰⠋⠙⠷⣦⣀⣿ ⡄⠀⠀⢤⠴⠚⠁⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⡛⢾⣿⣅⣰⣯⢙⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⣿ ⢧⠀⠀⠈⠑⢄⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣦⠻⣿⡿⢁⣾⡿⠁⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣥⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿ ⠈⢣⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⢀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣌⣰⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⡿⣫⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿ ⣧⡈⢧⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢀⣠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣼⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠟⣿ ⡟⢷⡀⠳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠋⢰⣿ ⣿⡌⢷⡄⠘⣄⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⡠⠊⣠⡿⠁⢠⣿⠃ ⠹⣿⣄⢻⣆⠘⢆⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢛⣉⣉⣛⣛⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⢀⠜⠁⣴⠏⠀⢠⣿⠏⠀ ⠀⠘⢿⣦⡹⣧⠈⢆⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⡟⠛⠛⠄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣠⡾⠃⢀⣴⣿⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣾⡇⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣷⣶⣶⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⢿⡇⣠⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣷⣄⠀⠑⠠⠖⠂⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣈⣉⣉⣉⣉⣀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⢀⣼⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣦⡀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣴⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢙⣿⣾⣿⡛⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠻⠃⠀⠀⠀⠃⢀⣭⣿⡿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⢛⢆⠀⠐⠢⢀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⡩⠀⠠⢀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠢⡀⠀⠡⠀⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢔⢽⡮⠤⢀⠒⠠⢉⢢⡀⠀⠀⠈⢂⠀⠀⠀⠡⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢿⠃⡆⠙⠄⡀⠈⠢⡀⠑⠝⣄⠐⢄⠀⢣⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⢂⠃⢠⠙⡈⠄⠈⢦⡀⠈⠀⢀⠘⡆⠁⠢⠀⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠠⠐⡟⡈⢠⡇⠀⠘⢮⠀⠀⠈⠓⢤⡀⠑⠴⠘⠀⠱⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣣⣇⡎⣇⠠⢄⡀⠑⢄⡀⣠⠔⠉⣂⣼⣄⡀⠀⠸⠲⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⢇⡇⠃⢶⢦⣬⣅⠀⠁⠀⠾⢻⣿⡣⣿⢧⡀⡄⢤⣁⠄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠻⣿⡄⠈⡓⠹⠉⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠈⣿⢷⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡀⣀⣹⣦⣥⣇⠀⠀⠅⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠜⢀⠔⣽⣸⡗⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⠴⠻⠿⠄⠀⠀⢙⡦⣀⠀⠤⠠⠀⠀⠈⢀⠄⠊⣼⡿⢹⣭⣭⡶⣄⣄ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣰⣞⣴⣿⣷⣄⠀⢀⠠⠂⢁⠠⠚⣽⡁⠀⠩⠉⠿⠞⡌ ⠀⠘⠛⢽⣷⣤⣀⡀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⣤⣤⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⢠⣲⠞⠁ ⣄⠀⠀⢀⣹⡽⣿⣯⣓⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠁⣠⠞ ⠘⠧⠴⢡⠂⢸⢜⣿⣿⣷⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠛⠁⣸⣠⣾⠋⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡀⢀⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣾⠋⠉⠈⠁⣉⠉⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⠋⣾⠁⠀⡤⢠⣗⣿⣇⠸⡇⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣾⣏⢠⣿⡄⢰⣇⣸⡇⢹⣿⢠⡇⣏⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⡾⢻⣿⣾⡙⢿⠺⣾⣿⣻⡿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⡇⣼⡿⣏⠃⢹⣿⠋⠙⣿⢷⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢰⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡇⠸⡎⠐⠃⠀⠀⠙⢹⢻⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠘⠘⢟⣿⣿⠟⠛⠷⣄⣸⠤⢀⠈⢩⡴⡿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠎⠀⠀⠀⠈⡏⠀⠀⠐⠀⢹⠁⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⣤⠏⢢⠈⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠈⢆⠀⠀⠀⣾⢿⠇⠀⠙⠀⠀⠁⠪⡁⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣸⢠⣄⣠⣼⣦⠀⡀⠈⠸⠄⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠙⡇⠀⠀⢄⡀ ⠀⣠⢩⣭⠁⠀⠈⢝⣝⣢⡀⠀⠈⠚⣻⣥⡍⡄⠀⠀⣧⣆⣿⣀⡇ ⠰⣻⠽⠃⠀⣤⢠⣄⣿⣿⣏⡰⢄⠀⢕⣿⠶⢇⠤⠀⡜⠉⣿⣿⣿ ⠰⢿⡀⣰⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⠿⣾⣀⣠⡇⢀⢠⢡⡇⣿⣹⡿ ⠀⠈⠟⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠉⠀⣠⣶⣿⣼⠉⠹⠈⢹⣾⡍⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢿⣿⣧⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⣀⡿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡈⠀⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠈⠋⠓⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢤⡀⠀⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠀⢻⣦⡸⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣄⡇⠀⠀⢰⡏⠀⠈⣿⢿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣠⡤⠤⣤⡤⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣇⠀⠀⢰⠀⣿⢹⠀⣀⣤⠶⢋⠽⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⢹⡇⠀⢹⣟⠓⢼⡇⠀⣆⣸⡿⢀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⢻⣦⡀⢿⣿⡀⠀⢸⣴⢹⢸⡾⢋⣤⠖⠁⡰⠁⠀⠀⢀⠀⠈⡆⠀⠀⢿⡄⠀⢻⣄⣿⡏⢰⣿⣃⣠⡴⠒⠀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⣏⣿⢿⣾⣞⣷⡀⢸⡿⢸⣿⡴⠋⡀⠀⢠⣧⠃⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⢹⡀⠀⠸⣿⠀⠀⢹⣿⢠⡿⢋⣽⣵⣶⠿⠛⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣀⣸⣿⣧⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣴⠃⠀⢠⠃⢀⡏⣿⠀⠀⢠⠁⠀⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀⢏⢃⠀⠀⢻⣿⢡⣿⡿⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠂⢠⣾⣏⣠⣼⣇⢹⠈⣿⣏⡠⣶⡏⠀⣸⢰⣿⣀⡀⢸⠀⠀⠒⠀⡃⠀⠛⢻⡊⠲⠤⣬⡏⣿⢿⣧⣀⠄⠀⢀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣀⣏⣼⠟⢁⣤⣿⢦⡀⡇⢸⡟⣹⠁⢀⡿⢸⠉⠉⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⠀⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀⡆⢡⢸⣿⣿⣿⡶⠞⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⡟⢁⣴⣿⡉⣿⣷⣽⣳⣤⣷⡏⠀⣼⡇⢸⠇⠀⠀⢸⡀⣀⣀⡤⠼⢤⣤⣤⣿⠤⠤⣸⡈⠀⡟⠏⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡿⣤⡟⢻⣌⠿⡾⠀⣹⣿⢋⣿⡇⢀⣿⡇⢸⣦⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣴⠛⠁⣉⣤⣶⣆⣠⣽⣷⣿⣷⣿⣭⣭⠭⠶⣶⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠻⡿⡄⠙⢶⡿⢠⣟⣁⣾⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⣈⠻⣿⣿⣏⣡⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣍⠙⠳⢄⠀⠈⠙⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣸⠶⢤⣾⣇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠉⠉⠉⢳⠾⣿⣛⢛⣀⣿⣿⡍⢻⡘⠇⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢴⣫⠖⣠⠖⣿⣿⢿⠟⢿⣿⢹⡇⣿⠉⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠘⠻⡿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠱⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣏⡰⠊⠀⣼⣿⢻⣾⠀⠈⢻⣸⡇⣿⡷⡄⣸⢏⡽⠋⠀⠈⠳⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⢿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠏⠀⠀⢀⣿⠇⠸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠙⡇⢻⡀⣽⣿⡎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⡇⠀⠀⣼⣿⠀⠀⠀⣨⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⠀⠀⠙⢦⠀⠀⠀⢡⢸⠉⠻⢿⡻⣦⡀⠀⠀⢀⠎⠀⠀⠀⠙⠁⠀⢀⣜⣿⠟⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣼⡄⠀⠀⢣⠈⠙⠳⢶⣯⣄⣀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣴⣿⣿⡿⢻⣿⣿⣿⡬⢧⣤⠤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣇⣤⣶⠿⡗⠒⠒⠒⠚⠛⠿⠿⢛⣿⡿⢶⣾⡟⠿⣾⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠹⣧⠀⠙⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣴⣿⣿⣯⠷⢿⣿⠶⠶⠖⠒⠓⠛⠉⠉⣻⣇⢀⣿⣶⠾⠛⡟⠙⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⢸⣇⣀⣤⣤⣤⣤ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⡿⡍⣿⡍⢻⡍⠉⣿⣄⣴⡏⠻⠶⠤⠤⠴⠶⠖⠚⠉⢀⡴⠋⣿⡇⠰⡘⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣇⢸⡿⣷⡿⢻⣿⣿ ⣀⣀⡀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣼⣿⡌⣀⠀⢿⡄⢘⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠀⢀⣽⣿⣄⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣦⣿⢸⡇⠸⣆⠈⢙⣻ ⡿⣿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣛⡿⣧⡤⣽⣾⣿⣿⣷⡤⠤⠴⠒⠊⠉⢉⣁⣠⣤⡶⢿⣿⣿⣿⣾⡄⠀⣠⣤⣶⡾⠿⠿⣿⣿⠀⢀⡾⠶⣾⢻ ⠀⢭⡭⠯⠿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⣟⣛⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣴⡶⣾⣿⣿⣍⣙⣒⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣷⣟⣫⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⣾⡇⠀⣸⣾ ⣀⣠⡿⠋⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠤⠒⠛⢿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡏⠉⢿⣿⣿⡿⢲⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⠀⣰⡋⢹

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⠟⣩⠞⠋⢹⠿⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⠿⠿⢿⣷⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣾⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⢧⣠⣴⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣤⣌⣻⣿⣷⣦⣀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠟⣿⣿⣿⠟⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠏⠀⠀⠀⡼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡿⠋⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠈⠙⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠟⡀⢠⠖⠀⢀⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⢠⠃⠀⠀⢀⠞⢠⣿⡁⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⢏⣾⣵⠏⣠⠖⠁⡄⣀⡀⠀⠀⡸⠀⠀⣠⠋⣰⣿⣿⡇⠀⡌⡄⠀⠀⠀⣽⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣜⣵⣿⣿⣣⠞⣡⢤⠞⠀⣯⠃⠀⠀⣇⣠⠞⢁⣾⣿⣻⡼⠀⢠⢣⠃⠀⠀⢀⡟⠀⠀⣿⡟⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⡿⠋⡠⠊⣠⠟⠒⢺⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⣡⣴⣿⠋⠈⣿⣇⣠⣏⠎⠀⠀⠀⣸⠁⠀⣰⣿⠀⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⠿⢋⡴⠋⠀⣴⠃⢸⡉⠛⣿⡄⠀⠰⣿⣿⣿⣦⣌⣿⣯⣰⣿⣏⠀⠀⠀⣰⠃⠀⣠⣿⠃⠀⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⠟⣡⠔⠉⠀⢀⣾⣿⡀⢏⠙⡏⣿⡇⠀⠀⡟⠈⢿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡧⠘⠀⣠⣾⡅⠀⣰⣿⣿⠀⢰⡿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⢟⡡⠞⠁⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣷⡈⠑⠛⢸⣧⠀⠀⢧⠀⠀⠛⠻⣅⡈⠛⠿⡷⣿⣿⠏⢀⣴⡿⠟⣿⣉⡟⢹ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⣶⣿⠷⠋⠀⣠⠖⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣄⠈⣿⡄⠀⢸⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠓⢶⣿⣿⣷⣮⣿⣏⣴⡟ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⣫⣾⠟⠁⢀⣴⡿⢃⣴⡟⠑⢋⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⢹⣷⠀⠈⡿⡏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡿⠋⡿⣿⣿⡿⣽ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣨⡾⠛⠁⣠⡶⢋⣟⣵⣿⡿⠋⣰⢫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠸⡘⡏⢇⠀⢱⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠈⠓⢺⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⢀⣴⡿⠋⠀⢀⡼⠋⢠⣾⣿⡿⠋⢀⡾⣱⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠙⢷⠈⢆⠈⡆⠀⢨⣕⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠁⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣾⡿⠋⠀⢀⠴⠋⠀⣠⣿⡿⠋⠀⣰⢿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠈⣷⢌⣆⢸⡀⠀⠑⠠⠉⠶⠤⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡟⠀⢀⠔⠁⠀⣠⣾⣿⠟⠀⣠⡾⣣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣅⠀⠀⠀⠘⣌⠻⣆⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣠⠞⠁⢀⡠⢊⣽⠟⠁⢀⣴⣿⣾⣿⣿⠋⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣄⡈⣆⠙⢿⣦⣀⣠⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⠉⠁⣀⠤⠊⣼⣿⣿ ⠁⢀⠴⢉⣼⠟⠃⢀⣴⣿⣿⣯⣿⡟⠁⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣀⠤⢊⣡⣴⣿⣿⣿⠏ ⠔⠁⣠⣾⠏⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢉⠇⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⠛⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣵⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀ ⠀⣰⡿⠃⣠⣾⣿⡿⣻⣿⢿⠏⢠⣿⣿⡟⢹⣿⣿⠟⠀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠤⠒⠊⠉⠉⠁⠈⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠒⠶⠶ ⣾⣿⣡⣾⣿⣿⣯⣾⠟⢁⡞⢠⣾⣿⠏⢠⣿⡿⠁⠀⡜⠀⠀⣀⠠⠔⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠾⠃⣀⣀⣠⣾ ⢻⣿⣿⡿⠋⢠⡿⠃⢠⡟⣠⣿⡿⠁⢀⣿⣿⠁⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⡿⠛⢀⣴⠟⠀⢠⡟⢰⣿⡿⠁⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠟⢁⣰⠟⢁⣾⣷⡟⠀⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡆⢰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⢀⠂⠀⠅⠰⠂⡘⣾⣛⣷⣤⡶⠶⠶⠶⣶⣶⡶⠾⠛⠛⠓⠶⢶⣦⣮⣀⡤⠐⠛⠉⠋⠈⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⡛⢷⣷⡶⠚⠛⠉⢩⠉⣵⣒⠶⠒⣫⡽⠖⠢⠭⢭⣖⡒⠪⢭⣖⡫⢽⣿⣷⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠂ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⡶⠟⢋⡁⠀⡠⣦⠀⢋⡞⠋⢁⡴⡞⠁⣤⠀⢀⠀⠀⠢⣍⠲⡀⠀⢭⡓⠈⠙⠊⠙⢶⣄⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⠋⢀⡴⠉⢀⣴⠎⠀⣠⠞⡇⠈⠉⢺⠅⠀⡏⡆⠈⢿⢦⠀⠈⠙⢦⣔⢦⣈⡑⠲⠦⣀⠀⠙⢷⣷⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠏⠀⢰⣯⠆⣠⣿⠋⢀⠔⡁⠀⡼⣤⠀⢸⣆⠀⣇⡟⣆⠘⡏⠳⡀⠀⡄⠙⣷⢦⡈⢯⣉⠁⠙⠻⠦⣹⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠃⡠⣰⡿⢁⡞⡿⢃⡴⠃⡴⡇⢀⠱⡼⡀⢸⠘⣆⠹⡽⡼⢆⢸⠀⢻⡀⠸⣄⠘⣆⠹⢦⢻⡳⢬⡲⣄⡈⠻⢿⣟⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⢁⣞⡿⠛⣠⡞⠀⠁⣾⠁⣰⠁⠁⢸⠀⢹⣅⢸⡆⢧⠑⣵⣰⠇⠈⣧⠀⢷⠀⠈⢧⡸⣇⠀⠷⢣⠀⠘⢿⡪⢔⡀⠙⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⣾⣡⢟⠎⠀⢘⡿⠁⠀⣸⠏⢠⡇⠀⡇⢸⠀⣾⠛⡜⣿⠈⢧⢣⠹⣾⡄⠘⣆⠈⡆⠀⣆⢳⠟⢧⡄⠈⣧⠐⣆⠙⢶⣥⡀⠈⢯⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢷⣟⡞⣀⣾⡞⠰⠀⢠⡟⢠⣿⡇⢸⡀⢸⢰⠏⠀⢣⠘⣧⠀⢫⡀⠹⣧⠀⢹⣄⠿⣆⠸⣆⠀⠈⢷⡀⢻⠀⢿⢷⣦⠻⣽⣦⠈⢷⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⡿⢠⣼⡟⠀⡆⢠⣿⢠⡏⡇⡇⣾⣇⢸⣞⠀⠀⠘⡄⢻⣧⠀⠹⠀⢸⣄⠈⣿⣧⠹⡄⢹⣄⠀⠈⣷⠘⡆⠈⡎⠿⣷⣹⣣⡳⠈⣧⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣟⡟⢀⣯⢣⡇⢸⡇⢸⠁⣾⣇⢃⡇⡏⣿⡄⣿⣞⣻⣾⣿⡈⣿⣧⡀⠀⠈⣿⡆⣿⠿⢷⣅⠀⣿⣆⠀⢿⠀⣿⣄⠸⡼⠉⢳⣧⠹⣄⠸⡆⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣡⣯⠀⡜⠋⢸⠇⣾⠇⠈⢸⢫⠿⢸⠁⣧⣼⡷⣼⡇⠐⠒⠶⢧⢻⡟⢳⠀⢀⣿⡇⢿⣗⠂⠸⡇⣿⣿⢦⡈⣧⠀⣿⣦⡱⡀⠸⣼⣧⠙⣆⣧⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣡⡾⢸⠁⢀⣼⡄⣹⠀⢰⢾⢸⢰⢸⠀⢷⣿⣷⣿⣿⡋⠻⢯⡳⢄⢣⠘⡆⡼⣿⠿⣸⡿⢿⣿⡧⣿⣿⣯⠻⣞⠆⢻⣁⠙⡗⠈⢿⡟⢤⠸⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⡿⠁⡿⢚⡟⣸⢀⢻⠀⠀⠘⡟⣾⢸⡆⣿⣿⡝⠸⠷⠿⢀⣀⣧⢘⣾⠀⣧⣧⣏⣼⣿⡇⠨⣭⠿⣿⣟⣿⢸⠈⡟⢦⠻⣄⢹⡦⡀⢻⣽⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣞⣡⡾⠁⡼⢀⣏⡏⢸⠀⢰⠀⣧⠸⡎⠃⣿⠬⣍⡓⠚⠉⠛⠛⢉⡾⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⡣⡙⢿⠁⠒⠘⣿⣿⣿⢸⠀⢣⠈⡇⠸⡈⢿⣮⣀⠙⢦⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠋⠛⡿⠁⣴⣧⡞⡟⠀⣿⢠⣼⡄⢹⡄⠛⠀⡻⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠋⠘⣻⣽⡟⠛⣿⠷⠟⣾⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⡿⢸⡄⠘⣆⢷⡄⢇⠸⣿⡻⠷⠦⠽⠆ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠇⣰⣿⣏⣼⡇⠀⣿⣼⣿⢷⡞⢳⡀⢰⠨⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣵⡟⠁⠀⠹⣧⠀⠁⠀⢰⣿⠋⣼⠇⣼⣷⠀⠘⡼⡇⢸⡆⢿⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠐⡿⡀⢹⠘⣇⠀⢹⣏⣽⡆⠹⣮⢳⡌⢷⣿⣳⡿⠶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣩⣤⣄⣀⣠⣾⠀⠀⠀⡿⠃⠘⡽⣼⣿⣹⠀⢸⠃⣿⢸⡇⢯⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣶⣤⣤⣤⣴⣤⣦⣿⣷⣿⣤⡿⡄⠸⣿⣇⢳⠀⡿⡿⡕⠌⣿⣷⣧⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⢄⣀⣼⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠟⠁⣼⣟⡀⢸⡀⣸⣸⡇⠆⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⢹⣿⣾⡆⠀⣷⢱⡀⢻⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠚⠀⠀⣸⣯⣿⡇⢸⢀⣿⡿⡷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣾⡿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠘⢧⠟⠙⣷⠀⣿⢸⣧⢸⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡤⠥⠤⣄⣀⡀⠀⢀⣠⠞⢀⣼⣏⣿⢻⣷⠈⣿⡟⢀⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠂⣿⢠⣿⡼⠻⣸⣿⣿⣤⠤⠀⠀⠴⠟⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠻⢧⣴⡿⢃⣼⣿⣿⢻⢻⠀⡏⣆⠛⣧⠈⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⣿⣸⢹⠧⠀⠏⠛⢿⣿⣿⣯⣀⠀⠠⠤⢤⣤⣤⠤⠴⠋⠀⣀⣼⡿⣿⢹⣼⡼⡀⣿⠘⠄⠘⣇⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⣿⠃⠉⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠐⠋⠉⠉⠃⠀⠀⠨⣿⣿⣧⢿⢸⣿⠁⣧⢹⣧⠀⠀⠈⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢛⣉⠀⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠉⠛⠒⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⢻⣿⣷⠦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⢸⠈⠘⣿⠀⡟⡞⣟⡄⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡴⠛⠋⠉⠉⠉⠛⠛⠋⠛⠛⠶⣤⣁⣀⠀⠀⠀⠁⢠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠙⣿⣿⣤⡆⠀⣠⣦⣶⣿⣿⣿⡏⢸⢰⡇⣿⢰⡇⡇⠙⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⢀⡴⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠳⢤⣀⠀⠙⢵⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢸⣾⣴⣿⣼⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡹⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⠦⠄⠀⠈⠳⢦⡀⠙⢷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢺⠁⢻⡟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⢌⣳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠙⢣⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡻⣇⣀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠄⠀⠙⠹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⣀⠀⠀⢈⡇⠏⢯⣩⣷⣏⣭⣛⣧⢶⡀⠒⠚⣻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠤⠒⢈⣉⠀⠢⠄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠖⠒⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⣾⠃⠁⣃⠆⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠳⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠰⠥⠤⢀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡔⢉⣤⣬⣑⡒⠂⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⣷⣶⣶⣶⡄⠱ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⣿⣿⣿⡿⠷⡒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠹⠛⢿⣿⣿⡟⢀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢄⠙⠿⡟⢀⠠⠤⢁⠐⠂⠠⠤⠤⠤⠔⠒⢈⠵⣶⣦⡀⢹⡋⡠⠂ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠘⢠⠁⠀⠀⠀⢡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⣴⣿⣿⣿⠀⠋⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠈⠢⣀⣀⠠⠃⢀⠠⣒⣒⣒⠤⡀⠛⠿⠿⠿⠃⠀⢠⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⢠⠐⠢⡀⢀⢆⣾⣿⣿⣿⣷⡌⡄⠀⡠⠈⠑⡄⡈⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⠤⡀⠀⠈⠆⠂⠀⠀⡇⢸⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠇⠀⢇⠀⢀⢧⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⡇⠀⠀⠈⠪⡐⠊⠀⠀⠣⢙⡻⠿⢟⡋⠌⠀⠀⠈⠁⡡⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⡃⢃⠀⢸⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠂⠄⣀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⣀⣠⡔⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠉⠁⠀⠸⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠚⠁⠉⣏⡆⠀⣮⡙⠁⢀⠀⠈⠢⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⠖⡟⠁⠖⠖⠈⠁⠀⢀⠃⠀⠁⠸⠙⡄⢟⣶⠎⡆⠀⠀⠀⠣⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣉⣳⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⢤⠤⡄⣀⣀⡇⢠⠿⡤⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠘⡆⢰⠡⠧⠧⠤⠔⠊⢹⠛⡏⣧⡟⠙⢳⢸⢹⢛⢻⠑⣄⣀⡀⢴⡺⡄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠒⠛⠁⡁⠀⢘⠌⠈⠉⠙⠀⡞⠀⠈⠁⡀⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡔⠤⠀⣀⣈⣒⣁⣀⡀⠤⠒⡇⠹⠅⠸⠴⠋⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠉⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⡈⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠤⠀⠠⢀⠀⡇⠀⢸⠀⣀⠤⠄⠦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣃⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠇⠀⠈⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⣈⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣀⡀⣸⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄ ⠀⠀⠢⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣾⣿⡿⠿⠟⠃⠸⠿⠿⠿⢦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣁⠒⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠉⠉⠀⢀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀ ⢹⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠁⠀⠀⢀⡖⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢆⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾ ⢸⣤⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠞⠀⠀⠀⣰⡟⠀⢀⠀⢀⠀⠀⡄⢧⢠⠈⠑⢄⠀⠈⣆⢸⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿ ⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠋⢠⠄⠁⣼⡟⠀⡰⢃⠔⠉⠀⣸⠃⡌⣆⠑⣤⡀⢿⣦⡸⣯⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿ ⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠃⢠⠇⣠⡜⡜⠀⡰⢁⠎⠀⠀⣴⡟⢠⡷⠚⢧⣈⠻⣆⢷⣝⢿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⠫ ⠘⡟⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠃⠀⡎⢀⢀⣿⡗⢠⣃⡾⠁⠀⣰⡿⢁⡞⢀⣤⣄⡙⣣⡙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀ ⠀⡇⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠇⠀⡼⠀⠀⢸⣿⢁⣿⣿⡧⠀⣴⣿⡡⠊⠀⠚⠛⠛⢉⠉⣿⣦⣙⣯⡻⣯⡳⡀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⣸ ⠀⣧⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⡟⠀⢰⠁⠀⠀⢻⡏⣸⣏⡿⣣⣼⡟⠁⠀⠉⠀⠀⢠⣀⡀⠀⢿⣯⢈⣿⢟⠪⣝⣿⢄⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⣼⡿ ⢃⡏⡇⠀⠀⠀⡜⢰⠁⢀⣟⣠⠂⢀⣸⢫⣿⣿⣷⣿⢯⠄⠀⠀⠐⠂⠀⠈⠉⠁⠀⢸⣷⡟⣿⡜⢯⢳⣭⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣛⠧⢀⣼⢻⡇ ⣿⡇⡇⠀⢀⠞⠀⣆⠆⣸⡹⠁⢀⡾⠈⡼⣷⣻⣿⡇⠀⢠⣤⣶⣶⣾⣿⣶⠄⢾⣧⣾⡏⣱⣿⡟⢬⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢥⣶⠟⠁⠘⠃ ⣿⡇⠀⢠⣿⣠⣼⡿⣠⣷⠁⢀⣾⡗⣰⣷⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠈⢻⡿⠻⠟⢛⡿⠀⣠⣾⣿⣱⣷⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡋⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠃⠃⣰⣿⣷⡟⢹⣷⣾⢃⠀⣼⢿⣵⣿⣿⣿⣹⣿⣏⣿⡒⢤⣍⡓⠚⢉⣠⠞⠁⣿⣿⣿⣃⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡆⢿⣆⠀⠀⠀ ⢠⡞⢡⣿⣿⠗⣿⢉⢃⠆⣴⣿⣿⢟⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣿⠿⣇⠀⠀⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⡶⣿⠉⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⡇⠘⡿⡄⢻⣆⠀⠀ ⣿⣱⣿⣿⣟⣾⡟⡏⡸⢠⠟⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⢷⡁⠀⣿⡗⠿⢄⣀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠔⠋⠀⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢫⢺⠀⠀⡇⡇⠀⢻⡄⠀ ⡿⣻⡿⢹⣽⣹⡿⢁⠇⣾⡶⢒⣀⣀⠀⠂⠘⢿⣆⣸⣧⠀⢠⣯⣿⣺⣯⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠳⣖⠣⠤⢤⣇⡃⠀⠀⣿⠀ ⣿⡟⠀⣿⠇⡿⡃⡘⢸⠟⢋⣩⣶⣿⡦⠀⠰⡄⠙⢿⣿⣤⢋⣿⣿⣿⣿⠷⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⣿⣧⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⢩⣷⡀⢹⡇ ⣿⢇⣸⣿⢠⣿⠧⡇⣮⡼⢛⡭⣟⠋⠉⠙⢛⣂⠀⠀⠳⡿⢰⢿⣿⣿⣿⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⠁⠀⠀⠘⡎⢷⠀⣈⢷⡄⣼⣷⣷⣸⠀ ⡿⣾⣿⡇⢸⡇⢸⢹⡿⡱⢋⣾⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠁⣹⡶⢤⣿⣷⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢟⠱⢼⡄⠀⠀⠀⢹⡈⢻⡓⢉⣿⠛⣀⡌⢳⡀ ⣷⣿⣿⠁⢸⣇⣾⣿⡌⣠⠞⠁⣀⣀⠀⢀⣠⠎⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠷⠄⠉⠙⣧⡀⣀⢞⣴⣧⠀⠹⣭⡿⢚⣩⡤⠖⠹ ⡟⣽⣿⠀⠈⣿⡏⣿⡈⠛⢀⡭⠗⠊⢉⣽⡏⠀⣤⡀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⣀⡤⠖⠋⠉⠛⠻⠶⢿⡆⠀⠹⣶⣭⢤⠤⠤⠀ ⠁⣏⡇⠀⠀⡿⣇⣿⡃⣮⡏⠀⡤⣾⠋⡼⠀⠀⠈⠻⣄⠀⠛⠁⠈⡟⣿⣿⣦⠴⠒⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠷⢤⣬⣋⠉ ⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣗⣿⣇⣹⣱⢣⠎⣠⡄⠀⢀⡟⠛⠳⠤⠤⠖⠚⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉ ⢼⣿⣧⣀⣀⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢹⣧⠿⠋⢠⡟⢷⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣼⡗⠯⢓⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠈⡟⠀⢀⣮⣹⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠿⡬⣆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣇⠔⣾⠀⠀⠈⢦⠤⠤⠤⠼⠀⠀⢹⠀⠀ ⠀⢠⠷⢪⠏⣀⠴⠒⠶⣄⣀⣠⠖⠲⢤⡀⠹⡄ ⠀⡞⠀⡏⢰⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠀⢷ ⢸⡥⢚⡧⠚⢷⣤⠈⠉⢀⣄⡀⠉⠁⣤⣿⠦⡞ ⢸⡴⠋⠹⠄⠾⠟⠀⠀⠁⠀⠈⠀⠀⠿⠟⢰⠁ ⠘⡆⠀⢠⣂⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣘⣆ ⠀⠹⡄⢸⠿⡟⠦⣍⣑⡒⠒⠒⣊⣉⡩⠛⣿⡃ ⠀⠀⠙⢾⣀⠘⢦⣀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠀⣀⡤⣎⠞⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠲⣾⠭⠽⠭⠭⠭⢖⡺⠁⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡤⣤⠤⢤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣴⣾⣟⣲⣷⣾⣧⣲⣾⣉⠳⢤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠉⡿⣿⣿⡶⢤⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣁⣩⣾⣿⣏⣿⠏⠀⢰⣃⣿⢿⣿⣅⠀⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣯⠈⠙⣽⣇⠇⠩⠓⠀⠈⢡⡄⢹⣿⣿⣿⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣤⠔⠛⢿⡀⠀⠈⠀⠃⠀⡑⢸⡟⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠢⣒⠚⠥⡒⢤⣀⣀⠑⣄⣾⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠴⠶⠦⣄⡉⠐⠸⢷⡦⣾⠓⠘⠻⣷⣬⣻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡜⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⢗⣀⠗⢀⣰⣯⡙⢯⡹⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠴⠋⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⡿⠼⢛⡀⢁⣚⣿⣷⣿⣿⡷⣽⣅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣠⣞⣡⣤⠴⠾⠛⠉⢁⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢻⠹⢿⣿⡌⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡴⠚⠉⠀⢀⣀⣤⣴⢶⣟⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⣉⣽⣳⡧⡘⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣾⣷⣂⣴⣿⣿⠿⣛⡿⢿⣿⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣉⣁⠀⠀⠙⣿⣷⣧⡈⢿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠙⠿⠭⠷⣯⠵⠚⠁⠀⢨⠻⠿⢛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡺⣝⠲⢦⣾⡟⢹⣧⡀⡙⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⢿⠏⠸⠿⠿⠷⣨⣷⣾⡟⠶⠾⣿⢿⣝⢿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⢟⣭⣿⢫⡿⠃⣾⠀⢀⣀⣠⣧⣀⣿⢻⣧⡄⠀⣿⠈⣿⡎⢿⣦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠋⣿⡿⢣⣿⣷⡾⣿⠀⠈⠉⠁⣏⣭⣿⢸⣿⣷⠆⣿⠀⣾⡿⢸⣻⣧⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⢁⣾⠟⢡⣿⣿⣿⢂⣿⣷⡄⣀⣠⣯⣽⣿⡏⢿⣄⢠⡿⣰⣿⡇⣸⡏⢿⣷⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣜⣷⠟⠁⣠⣿⣿⡿⠋⣼⡿⣿⣿⡦⣾⢿⡟⠻⢿⣸⣿⠟⣷⡟⣋⣬⣽⣷⡈⢻⡀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⠛⢁⣚⣿⣿⠟⢁⣄⣴⡏⡟⣾⠧⣜⣟⣦⣷⣦⣴⣿⣏⡴⣿⣿⣿⣯⣽⣿⠃⢸⠇ ⠀⣠⠾⢥⣤⣭⣿⠿⠋⠀⠀⠈⠉⡼⣠⡇⣽⣶⡶⢿⡯⠙⣿⣿⡿⠉⢰⡉⢻⣿⣿⡿⠋⣤⠋⠀ ⡞⠋⠉⠛⠻⢿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⡿⠟⠛⢛⣿⣾⡶⠾⠿⡇⣶⠇⢼⣿⣾⢿⠏⣠⡼⠁⠀⠀ ⠹⣆⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠳⣦⡀⢀⣾⣿⣵⣶⣶⣾⣿⣷⣾⣷⣾⡄⠀⢿⣦⣬⠆⠈⣡⣾⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠈⠓⠶⠞⠁⠀⠀⢹⣿⠟⢩⡿⠿⢛⣛⣛⡿⠿⢿⡿⠿⣧⣴⡦⣿⣿⣷⣾⣷⡮⠳⣄⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠿⠤⠤⠴⠶⠶⠶⠶⠤⠄⠀⠇⠀⠈⠠⠿⠶⠶⠾⠿⠿⠿⠷⠼⠿⠆⠀

⠀⠀⠀⡔⠁⢀⢔⢼⠃⠀⠆⠀⢃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣜⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣘⠀⢀⠝⠁⡌⠀⣷⠀⠀⡈⠄⠐⠒⠈⠁⣌⢏⠃⠐⠢⢄⣀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⡡⠁⠀⠀⣇⠠⡗⠊⠁⠀⠘⢄⠀⠀⢠⠣⢣⠀⠀⠀⠸⠀⠁⠒⠝⡤⠤ ⠀⠀⡜⠉⢀⠌⡉⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠢⡡⡸⠡⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⢃⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀ ⠀⡰⠀⡠⠃⠀⢁⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⣝⡉⠉⡲⡀⠀⠀⠸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠃⠰⣥⡶⣦⣆⢜⡀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠙⠢⠰⢡⠀⠀⠘⡈⢄⠀⠀⠀ ⢰⡦⣾⠋⢀⣶⣿⣷⣣⢱⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⢀⠠⢄⣀⡄⠀⠡⡀⠀⠃⢸⠑⠄⠀ ⢸⢡⢻⠀⢸⣿⣿⣯⡇⠫⠧⡀⠀⢸⣸⢆⠰⣋⣭⣿⣿⣿⣦⡗⢄⠸⠀⡀⠀⠀ ⢌⠜⡞⡄⠘⣍⡙⣻⠃⠀⠀⠈⠂⠼⠙⠀⢡⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠘⣷⠈⠐⡇⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⡸⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣟⠛⠿⢿⡿⠀⢸⡌⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠒⠰⠎⠁⠔⠛⡇⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠗⠙⡘⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠑⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠌⢰⠂⠑⠁⠀⠀⡔⠀ ⠀⠰⡏⢢⠀⠘⡦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⠉⠉ ⠀⠀⠇⠀⢡⠀⠘⡄⢉⢒⠦⠤⢤⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡘⠀⠀⠀⡠⠃⠀⠀⠀

⡄⢚⡤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣨⣟⣿⢽⠟⠛⢟⠣⣽⠋⣿⡗⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣺ ⢤⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣯⢟⠸⢆⠙⢍⠑⠈⠪⡛⡷⠭⢽⣿⡀⠀⣀⣀⣠⡾⣻⣿ ⠉⠙⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⠏⢸⡀⢯⣧⡀⠑⠄⡀⡹⣶⠚⡻⣻⣷⠅⣠⡪⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡟⡆⣾⠑⢄⣫⡑⠤⠔⠬⠯⠔⡟⣯⣭⣿⣶⡏⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡿⡱⣧⣹⠊⠁⠈⠚⠢⠄⣠⣤⣀⣸⣫⣷⣽⡧⠟⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡄⠃⣗⢢⢪⣷⠁⠀⠀⠸⠿⠘⢼⡿⢹⣽⡇⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣷⡗⣝⣦⠁⠉⢀⣀⣤⣤⠀⠀⢰⣣⣿⣿⣷⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣶⣽⣄⠀⠈⢏⣁⠌⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⡤⠤⢤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣃⣈⣷⣞⣁⣸⣟⣩⣻⣿⡟⠁⠈⠉⠉⠁⠀ ⣶⣽⠶⣤⡀⢀⡴⠟⣿⡿⣿⠛⠛⣩⣿⣿⣹⣯⡛⠙⠿⡯⠍⢹⣦⠀⠀⠀⠐⠈ ⠀⡏⣍⣬⣶⠎⠁⣷⣿⡿⠋⡇⠀⢉⣡⡏⣿⡁⠁⠠⣿⢧⣇⣺⣿⣇⠀⠀⢠⠀ ⡤⢻⣿⡿⠃⠀⣐⣾⠟⢁⣴⣻⡤⠞⢻⣷⣾⡝⢶⣴⣿⠆⠹⣷⣏⢹⣦⣠⠃⣹ ⢐⣿⣏⠆⠀⣀⣿⡏⠀⠈⠈⠙⣷⣦⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⠀⠀⠐⣻⣿⣿⣿⣝⣲⠊ ⠹⠛⠂⠀⢀⣾⠇⠂⠀⠀⣠⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⢿⣿⠟⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠤⠐⠒⠀⠠⠀⠐⠶⡂⠤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣲⢚⢯⡗⢲⣬⣁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠟⠁⡜⠈⠒⠛⠚⠳⠯⠲⡀⠀⠀⠠⡲⣰⣖⡍⡵⡦⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣴⡯⣼⢲⡴⠁⠀⠀⠔⠀⠀⠀⡰⠾⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⢿⡜⡄⠀⠀ ⠀⠠⣟⣼⢎⠱⢎⣷⠀⠀⠀⢩⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠃⠀⠈⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡻⡌⠄⠀ ⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣶⣤⣼⠀⠀⣀⣤⣀⣠⠴⠇⡇⢰⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣣⡽⡈⡄ ⠀⠀⠈⡽⡟⡏⡟⡏⠀⢸⠼⠟⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢶⣿⡗⠤⡄⠀⠀⢻⣿⣤⡴⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⡼⢹⣼⠀⢣⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠛⠓⡇⠀⣳⠈⢻⣿⣾⠉ ⠤⢀⡟⣠⡿⡟⠀⢸⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⢀⣿⢠⠈⡿⣹⡄ ⠐⡼⢡⡿⢁⢃⡆⢘⡀⠘⡄⠀⠀⠠⠋⠉⡃⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠀⣸⢸⠀⡵⢹⡇⡇ ⢰⠃⣼⢸⢸⢸⡇⠀⡇⠀⡏⢢⣄⠀⠈⠉⠀⢀⣠⠔⢻⠇⢀⢿⠘⡀⣇⠆⢻⣸ ⡟⢰⡇⠈⣸⠼⠧⣀⣸⠀⢷⡠⠇⡌⠐⠒⠈⡉⢧⡀⣸⠀⣸⡌⣦⣇⢿⠘⡐⢣ ⠃⣾⠤⠋⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠆⠞⢀⠀⠈⠢⡠⠊⠀⠀⣿⡇⢠⠋⠉⠀⠈⠉⢆⢱⡇ ⢠⡿⠀⣴⠆⠀⠀⠀⢀⠎⣤⡎⠀⠀⡠⠆⠀⢠⠀⣻⢀⠆⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢃⡆ ⣼⡇⢨⡏⢀⣀⠤⠒⠁⠀⢸⡇⠀⣛⠛⠓⠓⠉⣠⢇⡞⠰⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠤⠤⢤⡤⠖⢲⠒⠂⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠤⠒⠉⠀⢀⠀⡀⠈⠇⠀⠀⠀⡄⡄⠈⠒⢄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡠⠒⠁⠀⠀⣐⡄⠘⣄⣡⡬⠤⠤⠧⡴⠮⢄⣀⠌⠀⠣⡀⠀ ⢀⠞⠀⣀⣤⠔⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⣀⡠⠄⠓⠒⠠⠯⣕⠦⣄⢹⡄ ⡎⣄⣤⡪⠜⠢⠐⠚⠒⣂⠠⠞⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢃⠪⢷⣷ ⢳⣏⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠖⠉⡡⠖⠢⣼⣖⡁⣿ ⠀⠹⡙⠓⠤⠀⣀⣀⡠⠤⠀⠒⠒⠈⠉⢀⡠⣀⣤⣴⡾⢇⢌⣳⠇ ⠀⠀⠘⢦⠀⢀⢄⠀⠉⠐⠒⠒⠠⠴⠶⠻⡋⠁⠀⢫⠹⡄⣳⠋⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣌⡈⠀⢠⠁⢀⠁⢸⢸⠀⢱⡜⡄⢈⡤⣶⠟⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠦⣅⣀⡌⠀⣘⢘⡀⠈⢹⣹⣠⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠓⠚⠓⠛⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀