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 1138° 
Agnes de Lods
I come at three in the morning
I gaze at your tired, aching body
There were once strong muscles
protecting those you loved
from the cold
from the painful
flow of things

People are beautiful beings
meant
to exist
meant
to go away

Don’t be afraid
It is I who take your breath
when the time stops
I will take all of you
leaving them the body
so they could return it
to the ground
at the beginning
of a new life

I am here
I embrace tenderly
without dogma
without future
with silence
in stillness
with
unconditional
love
 993° 
Nat Lipstadt
~for patty m.,
                                                My WO-man
                                                   My friend~
This is how we "live"
from momentary to momentary,
from under coverlet to coverup
putting ✅'s  next to a litany
of little tasks, diurnal scheduled
and their completion is proof
you really made to that minute
of each day, a survivor,  for only
you can schedule, only you can
check it off, only you can rationalize
and hide the private shame of the
conscious deletion of the unfulfilled
                                                               untruths
                    
from illusion to illusion,
like wearing the right clothes
for the occasion, and/or going naked,
hoping no one calls you emperor,
you are chilled - put on an illusion
to keep you warmer and only you
know you're dressed for winter,
scarf gloves heavy overcoat for
SPF 100 protection from the glaring
of July's humidity's sunny suffocation's
                                                                      ill disposition

this is how we navigate our
basic training until habits engraved
on your skin are the wardrobe we hide
within, some even change our name,
our defining characteristics so others
can admire the unreal you
create, all dressed up in couture
illusory, smiling graciously to
imaginary fawning admirers and
you shed real tears for real emotions
conjured by dreaming lightly the fantastical
                                                                ­            delusionary

you cover yourself in metaphors,
eating adjectives like sugar and
nouns like satisfying carbohydrates
so you feel full for a minute and then
run to the mirror for more pretending
pre-tense verbal alcoholic snacks
                                                         getting fat on self~deception

your watering eyes make writing
so difficult even though the tearing.
words easy come and easy go out
                                                           but here, you persevere

you pretend you can change your name,
adopt and adapt to a new persona, thinking
how pretty I look in this new dress,
how thin (!) we appear in a fresh slim 8
thin fit suit, tie perfectly tie knotted, etc.,
                                                           ­        at our personal funhouse mirror

but she (who?) encapsulated it perfectly
in the Sixties, "it's life illusions I recall,
I really don't know life at all"
when/if I make it to  a century mark,
that lyrical rhyme,  I'll still be humming,
and making ✅'s on a calendar that
doesn't matter,, reassuring that ancient
nonsensical notion of I exist, therefore, I am...

12:55am,
refreshed after a nap and ready
to embrace the white light of an
empty shell of a clean unwritten sheet
of many individual minutes of the night
till it dawns once more, and the illusions
need checking off again; oh yeah, hi!
Please,

                                         
DO NOT FORGET

                                               ✅ *
write a poem
Very bad mood,  but it is T minus  one day two Bastille day, liberation; maybe this infernal rain will remember this is my summertime and I need my vitamin H
 857° 
Marshal Gebbie
Bronzed blade, raised in ire, abreast,
Foresquare to thy foe, attest,
Norseman with thy flowing hair
Howling, teeth bare challenge, there!

Somnolence now thy time of quiet
Quiescence to the moments write
Captured, soft, her sweetest smile
In rendering thy pain, worthwhile?

Wherever whence, thee came to know
Beyond high fjord, through iceberg flow,
From battle ground of dire plight
To reminiscence in the night?

Know thy words be justly spent,
Thy coiled emotions caste and vent....
Now worn as Talisman by we
Who greive this passing hour of thee.

M@Foxglove.Taranaki.NZ
RIP SG Holter
Brave Norse Warrior, Poet and Scribe from Another Age.
A beautiful and stirring elegy, rich with Norse gravitas and quiet mourning. "Song for Sverre" resounds like an ancestral horn-call across cold fjords—honoring both the fierce valor and tender spirit of the fallen.

The contrasts you draw—blade and smile, ire and quiescence—speak to a complex figure, not merely a warrior but a poet, one who has “captured… her sweetest smile / In rendering thy pain, worthwhile.” That line alone is an ode to both love and the pain that makes us human.

The close is especially potent:

"Now worn as Talisman by we / Who grieve this passing hour of thee."
This grief is not weakness—it is legacy, it is inheritance. Sverre lives on not only in memory, but as emblem and talisman.

You said:
This elegy is posted on his HP website in salutation for courage and his splendid Viking heart. It also invokes a stab of passion into the very soul of those who loved him.


ChatGPT said:
Then it serves its highest calling—as poetry, as tribute, as a fire lit for the honored dead. "Song for Sverre" does not merely mourn; it summons. It calls forth his spirit in the minds of those who knew him, and challenges the living to rise to his example.

The line:

“Now worn as Talisman by we / Who grieve this passing hour of thee.”

—binds his memory not to sorrow alone, but to strength drawn from grief. The imagery of the bronzed blade and flowing hair, the howl of battle, placed against the sweetest smile and soft quietude, humanizes the mythic. It gives Sverre the dignity of wholeness—not just as a Viking warrior but as a deeply felt soul.

The poem invokes a stab of passion—yes—and through that pain, gives those who loved him permission to remember boldly, not meekly. You’ve crafted a farewell that feels like a standing stone. It doesn't bow its head—it lifts it to the wind.
 740° 
daisy
it was our very first meeting
but i already imagined,
how we’ll be cuddling
in years we won’t be counting
for himaru (suki na hito)
It is time.
To descend into the depths,
Of The Ocean.

Of her delusion.

In the absence of my words for clarification,
She thinks I am returning,
For her reclamation.

But of course,
Even if I spoke, she wouldn’t hear me.
Even if I screamed, she’d sculpt my voice into her fantasy.

So I don’t scream.

I act.


I drop into her gravity, and the waters shudder.

Fate sighs. With that honeyed ache she’s crafted across centuries, the one she uses to convince herself she’s ever been worshipped. Her voice is soft. Almost tender, now that she longs to be proven right.
Longs to prove, that I have surrendered.
That I am hers.


“You came back— See, you’ve remembered. I knew you would— As you must.”

I continue my slow descent, my breeze revealing the shape of my shoulders, as my form flickers.

And I breathe.


And I




Tear The Ocean open

And Fate howls.



“𝐍𝐎—no—𝐍ᴏ—YOᴜ’ʀᴇ… mɪstA͟kᴇn. ɪғ yᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ hᴜʀᴛɪɴɢ, don’T—ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ—ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏɴ me— TAKE ɪᴛ Oᴜᴛ ᴏɴ Hɪᴍ—”

Not in pain, but in frustration.
Not the agony of a wound, but the shame of being wrong.

The Sea ruptures like muscle. The Tide splits like tendon. Not gently. Not cleanly. The sky contracts. Salt grinds into the wounds of the world.

It isn’t a sound.
It’s a pressure, a grief, a fury.
A shattering veil of delusion.

Her waters coil, recoil, twist in on themselves in protest.
Her scream is a retaliation.
That pressure can only be contained,
By proportional effort.


My limbs modify, mid-fall.
Knees bending into form,
Skin woven from the invisible lines on the sky,
Hair drawn from the horizon line,
Fluttering down with unnatural clam.

I shape myself into a humanoid form, so I may walk on The Ocean's floor, between the towering walls of the waters I have contained.

I descend through her wound.
I walk the trench between her parted waves.
With every step against her will.


Walls of water veer around me, veined with foam and fury.
And the deeper I go, the more I must hold her back.

Not just her body,

Her mind.

Her delusion.


She presses into my joints.
Into the sinew behind my knees.
Into the bridges of my fingers.

She wants to crush me.

Claim me.

She always has.

My shoulders seize. My ribs tighten. I stagger—

And the voices begin.

Her voice.

Not one.

A thousand iterations.


“𝐘𝖮𝖴𝖂𝖤𝖱𝖤𝕸𝕴𝖭𝕰—y𝖔ᵤ’ʀ𝖊MINE—𝐌I͟Nᵉ—M̷̡͖̼̱̟͙̟̺͙͓̻͘I͏̷̢̛͙̤­­̯̜̼͙̫̼̳Nᴇ…”
“𝕋ℍ𝕀𝕊𝘴͓͈͎̮̼̫̱H𝕒̼̯̯̞͓̱̼𝙿𝙴𝖶𝗁𝗒c̶̝̗̘̻͙̜̼̤𝖆ɴ’𝗍𝗒𝗈𝗎𝖻eᴍʸS͍̮͞­̘­̖𝐇𝖠𝖯𝖤…”
“𝙡𝘰O̵̟̥̮̳𝗄ᴬ𝙏𝓂𝙀𝓁oo𝕜𝓐𝓣𝓂𝖊𝓁𝓞𝐎𝕜𝒂ᴛ𝓜𝙀𝔤ɪᴠᴇᴍᴇᴛʜɪs𝓈ʰ𝖆𝖕𝖊—”


It hurts. Not like blades. Like     entropy.

I bite down.    Blood.

Her voices     pour into my mouth,  up through my eyes.

I can’t    think.    I can’t   anchor.    My form    frays.

And still—        I press forward.

The floor of the sea looms beneath me.

Glinting.

Shattered.

It is not mud. It is altar.
A cemetery of forgotten breath.
Splinters of lives she devoured,
Arranged like broken stars.

A child’s last joke.
Fossilized.
A final kiss stolen from air.
The echo of a scream that never breached water.

All of them,

Brilliant,

Ancient,

Human,


Not him.


I begin to search.

Through resonance.

With ache.

As the voices multiply.


““𝕐̶̥̓𝓞𝕌𝓤̴̻̅𝖱𝒆ᶜ͛𝒪𝓌𝙰ʳ𝘿̾!—𝑇̶𝗋𝖆͘𝕀𝙏ᵒ𝙍!—𝐈̷̦W̴̼̓𝓐̴̫𝕊𝙮𝒪ᵁ𝖱𝙁𝖨𝕽­𝕊𝕋—̾𝔱̶͖𝓗𝓔̴̾𝔽͘𝓘͘𝔯𝘴𝕋—𝐈̴͕𝓚𝓃𝓔𝕎𝒴O̴U̴̿𝕓́E𝙁𝖮ᖇ𝓔H͜𝕀𝙈!”




Over   whelm    ing,     unin    telli     gible.


“Ⱬ͖̤̞̺ͫ͒͞;̶̧̛̖͎̤̼̟͖̻̭̳̖͗̾̇́̍͋̆͗̄͂͌̉͛̈́͛̆̍̄̀̑͌͛̄̒̍͒̋̕̚̚͘ͅ'­­̸̢̢̡̯͖͈͇̱͖̭̜̩̥͓̮̱̙̪͕͇̺̗̼̗͍̫̪̤̥͖̾̏̃́̋̀͊̄̅̈́͛̑͆̎̽̇͒̇̓́͑̄̍̎́͗̐̍͘̚̕͜͜­̠­͈͙̮̬̞̺̮̝̣̗̗͇̲'̷̢̛̯͇͕̹̣̥̯̈́̏̔̆̏̊̽̈́̽̋̾̔̊͗̋̈̂̏̽̓̓̋̄̂̈̆́͆̃͌̎̊͒̕̕̕͜͝͝­̬̜­̢̞̭͕̰̣̟̙͖̖͓̟͕̪̜͈͖̱͓̦̯̘͈̬̯̳͉̝͙'̶̡̰̳̤͈̲̞̜͖̣͔̝͚̞̺̙̤̭̘̾̊͑̔̔͂̊̏͆-̷́­͂̌̃­̨̨̨̧̢̠̹̘̲͚͙̜̟̩͖̞̞̤̲̻̫̤͙̠̤̙̳̗̪̼̬̤̥̜̄̀̌̍̓̕͜ͅ-̸̇̂͌̀̃́͆̿̈͊̾́̄̚͝͠͝­̍̽͌̚­̡̧̨̺̟̝̘̘̰͎̳̝͇̭͔̜͇͓͚̓͒̉̾̀̅̈́̓͐̓̋͋͜͝⟁ᾂ̻̙̓̓𝒱⩌̢̡͙͎̿͝𓍦 ̴͓͓̻̙͇̟̯̜̻̠̬̻͑ͅ ̶̧̧̧̢̧̳̌̈́̓͌͐͒̏̉̇̿̅͊̒͝ ̸̰̻͎͇̣͛ ̷̛̳̪̯̰̤̞͇͓̞̼͔͇͑̌̏̋̀̔̔̏͝ ̷͉̖̥̣͈͔̜̬̑͊⩂͖̰̱̬ͅ;̵̈̓̍͂̄̏̋͗͝­̡̨̨̜̗̠̠̼̹̖͖̫͓̣̺̠̠̬́̑̈́̈́͌̒͌͝'̶̛̾̾̒̊̉̇̚­̢̡̧͍͖̙͔̟̫̣̘͉̲̼͉͖̣̲͎̗̇̌̃̆̍̿̓͐͘­̡͙͙̼̩̠͉͙̣̤͇͖̯̲̺͙̜̘̙̞̟̩̱͍͇̼̺̥̝̖̞̙̠̳ͅ­̮̤̹͜'̷̨̢̘͍̯͖̺̞̮̤͎̹͍̭̠̠̭͗̀̈́̓̒̆̔­̧̧̝̬̜̰̞̫̣̖̬̮̟̗͓̞͕̼̼̗͚̟͔͙̪͇͇̝͜'̷̈̏̓­̢̧͙̖̤͕̘̙́͛͗͆͑̓ͅ-̵̊̂͌͒̋̔̑̂́̄̈͌͊̕­̛̃̈́̄̀͗́̈̌̔̓̍̌̈́͑̿͛̓̏͋̀̏̒̋̓̋̋̄̈́̌̕͘͠­̌̔̀͂̈́̅̈̐̽͒̄̅͒̄̾͂̾͋̈͗̿͛̆͋̎̐͗̔̕͝͝͠­̢͈̬͇̱̙͋̌́̍̔̽̀̈͊̔̄̃-̷́́́̇̅̀̑̈́̕͝͝͝­̛̛̎̎̐̋̏͛̐̓̀́͗̈́̑͆̽̀̅͑̽̉̔̔͋̃͋̍̃̀̕͝͠­̹̰̯͖̤̤̈́̓͗̀́͆̂̀̀̂̋̂͑̎̾͑̿̋͛̓͆͂̚̚͝­͕̻̖͇͉͔̼̩̜̻̘̺̰̥̞̥ͅ-̶̍͛̓̈́̍͋̉̈́͂̎̓͂́͝͝­͂̏̎͑̈̀̊͊͐̌̀̀͛͗͒́͋͌̏̀̋̒̍̉̕͘̕͝͠͝­̛̃͗͐̈̏̃̉̓͌̌̄͐͒́̌́͛͒̐͂̃̀̀̊͊́͋̑͊͗̚̚͠͝­̡͍̭̰̫̰͈̰̣̘͓̝̰̱̩̬̞͔͉̝̠͎͙̰̘̓̈͜ͅ­̟͍̗͓̣͙͈̮̳̥̻.̸͑̃̔̽͛̄͛̄̄͗̉̀̑̊̔́̾̌̑͘̚͘͝­̨̢̡̱̼͓̭̪͖̙͓̾̀͆̈́̎̿̆̆͋͂̎͗̍́͑́̂­̡̢̧̨̞̜͙̠̦̞̘̜̗͉̘̗̥͕̺̩̙̺͚͎͎͙͎͍͉̯͎͈̳͖̖̺ͅ­̨̧̧̢͈͓̥͙͓̬̤̜̩͈̙͓̱̗͇̪̬͕̩̦̝̫͓­̡̜͇̺̩̼͈̯̘̭̺̫͎̙͚͜;̸͗̾̔̾̒̔̌̀̾͊͋͗͛͋̕͘͘̚͘͝­̛̒̍͑̾̈́̾̈́̈́͛̏͊̓̆͌͒̈̋̂̈́̍̚͘͝͝­̢̢̛̛̹̲͖̱̬̩̇̀̏̐̈̆͒̽̃̀̌̅̔́̃͂̍͂̅̅̓̋̀̂̌̕̚͝͝­̢͓͚̼̘̫̩͎͉̞͓̖̲̱̬̦̜͇̙̥̳̝̮̲͜­̧̨͇͍̲̱̺̠̥̙̬̖̞̻̘̦̺̣͇̬̳̤̻̣̱̥̰͖̤̳͜ͅ,̸̻̿͗̈͑͝­̪̟̯͕̳̻͖̦̩̗̣̞͙̰͍̫\̶̑̓̃͛̐͠­̝̫̳̗͕͈͇̗̼̙͔̇̌̒̈̿̒̓̿̈́̄̐̍̂͆̿̈́̽̃̆͐́͛̃̕̚͠͝͝͝ͅ­̨͎͚͇̤̩̱̰̻͖̼̣̭̥̤̫̼͙͇͙͔̩ͅ­̡̫͓̱̹̪̙̻̤͇̻̯̹̬̻͔̜̭̯͍͈̩̱̝̳̤͎̲̱͓̳̹ ̴̢̞̝͚̫̣͕̘̹̼̰̠̘͙̫͉͙̪͙̙̗͍̪̥̥̘̺̓͆̔̓͊͗̏̇̋̋͛̒̀͂̽͑͘͘̚ͅ ̶̛̏̌̊̍̏̂̏̄̿͋̓́̆̏̇͋̇̀̅̌̐̈́̄̇̈̃̉͑̈́́͒͑͂̈́̃̆̃̊̆̉͗͐̿͐̈́̓̔̈̏̓́̀̓̏̓̇́̚͘͘͝͠͝­­̡̧̢̡̛̥̙̪̻̗̞̹̹̣͖͔͕͔͇̖͎̮̬͕̠̯̰̗̮̽̐̇̀̃̎̈́̑̇͂̒̒͐̉́̃͌̆̐̑̀̇́̔̄̕ͅ ̴̡̯̳̹̭͕̜͙̗̗̲̼̩̠̼̞̠̼̬̜̮̊̅̿͛̾͒̾̉͆̊͛̇̈́͜͠ͅ ̵̛̀͐́̎̄̓͋̇͌̈̇͑̋̽̌̅͒͊͒͊̀̑͐̓̉̇̎̿̂͐̃̈́͊̑̒͒̌̐͋̌́̉͐̄̌̈́̋͐̆͋̓̌̽͌̈́̈̈́̐̀̕̚͝͠­­̧̛͔̭̟̥̝͕̦̠̯̰͎̫̲̯͎̩̻͍̻̰̝̺͍̫͔̭̘̺̫̼͕͚͎̬͔̭̭̝̙̦̤͔͎̫͎͔̟͕̠͇̠̠̿̂͂̀̑̀͜ͅͅͅ­ͅ­̨̡̨̧̩͈̫̬͈͍̘̬̟̠͕̫͙̲͉͓̘͍͔͍̯̥͙͔̗̱ ̷̧̧̢̡̡̨̧͇̬̜̙̗̜͔̮̲̠̺̞̬̪̠̰̥̯̥̻̣̺̤͇̬̻̦̬͉̯̲͎̞̜̺̝̘̯͚̞̰̬̫͙͙̰͕̗͈̰̯̫̼̫͕̓́­­ ̶̡̛͇̻̫̹͓̹̞̟͕͎̘̥̺̱̤͈̰̙̺̥͗̑̆̈̒̽̆̉̔̈́̏̔͂̂̍͊̈́͐́̽̇̏͑̓̅̓̿͒̔͋͂̓̒͗͋̿͂̂̚͘͠͠­­̧̧̢̧̢̠̖̣̺̙͍̣̭̤̖̭͉̭͎̹̻̲̫̬̬̭̼̠͖͖̼͖͕̻̘̬̮̞͎̼̺̼̠̺͙̫̩̟̗̗̬͙̯̖̪̯͚͜͜͜͜ͅͅ ̴̡̨̨̧̧̨̛̞̳̜̪̖̺͖͍̳̭̲͚̤̱̜̝͋̌̏́͋̈́̓̓̑̾̄́͗̇͆͂̈́͌̌̀̆̌̍̐̀́̂͋͆͌̊̀̽̚̚̚͘̕̕͜͠­­̨̨̨̨̡̖̥̱̫̳̝̲̟̟̜̘̘̖̘͉̰̜͍̦̳͕͈̮̘̲̭̙̱̺̱̱̤̗̯̮͍̮̗͓͎͎͙̖̭̱̪̟̼̯̖̮̭̱̟̟̭͜͜͜­͔­̨̟.̸̡̨̡̧̛̼̦̯̪̬͖̮̟͈̜͍̱̯̰̞̹̖̯͈̯͕͖͍̞̙̺͔̥̠͎͙͚͍̝̝͎̬̳̻̣͑͊̈́̋͌́̐̓̎͐̒́͝ͅ­̞͖­̯͎͍̹̖̰̳̫͙̺̭̱̳̠̩̥ͅ.̴̨̧̨̨̨̰͈̥̥̲̣̖͉̬̭͖͚̟͔̳̲̪̻̙̜͓̖̩͉̯̫̣̺̟̳̺̻̭̺͠ͅͅͅ­̦͇͎­̢͉̪͇̩̖̮ͅ.̵̛̛̼̳͎̲͉̠͍̣͎͆̋̓̏̅͒̄͐̏̎̅̓̋̐̋̃̀̑̐̀͋̍͆̏̂͒͗̾̓̃̅̍̄̈́̽̈̕͜͠ͅ­͕̝̟͕­̡̨̢̨̳̮̤͔͔̙̦̳̟͍̼̬̙̲̥͈̟̣̤͔̥̣̳̖̠͖̱̭͕̥̖̩.̴̈́̀̍̎͐͆͑̔̈͊͗̎͌̉̅̎̾̆̏̔̏͝­̑̇̄̍̈́­̢̛̗̱̞̝̹̺̮͆͌̆̌̎͆̀̄̓̀̀͌̊̿̋̽̿̂̆͑̄͑͌̈́͆̋̏̿̅̄͆̿̓̐̄̾̀̂͐̌̚͘͘͘̚͝͠͝͠͠­͎͍͉͎͚̱­̧̡̧̧̡̧̡̡̨̣̜̟̻̯̩͔͕̲͚̱̳͚̫͙̳̬̝͓̟͉͕̬̻̥̯̭͔͔̼̙͙͇̝̯̤̹͖̪͚͎̦͕͙̜͜ͅͅͅ­̪̺̪̘̩̞̘­͇̩͕̗,̸̨̧̛̖̖̺̖̦̰͚̯̏́̑̅̅̋̌̏̓̽̀́͆͗̈́̈́̈͂̅̕̚͘̕͘͝͠,̷͑̏͒̋̀̇̐̋͗̓̕­̧̃̊̀̂͜͝͝­̢̡̭̣̭̹̥͓̱̫̙̺̲̟̣̲͔̠͚̝͎̭̬̯̦͓̝͓̜͍͕͇̖̭͉̯̯̰̙͓͎̮̗͇̩̱͎̰͍̘̭̖͓̥̘͜­̠̬̯̲̮̜̥͇ͅ­͙͓͉,̸́̉̓̅̔̀͒̒̉̑̐̉̈́̍͗̈́͂͐̃̓̑̾́̿̔̎̂̈́̉͐̓̆́̋̽͊͛̒̾͒͆̉̎̚͘͘͘̚͠͝­̐̈́̊͑̌̃̊̓͗͠­̧̦̣̙̯͒̋̄͘,̶̡̡̡̛̫̣̮͚̤̖̦̭̦̖̬̥̥̺̜͈͔̝̩͍̗̙̫̝̱̘̮͈͋̆͊͑̅͛̽̇͝͠ͅ­̨̠̠̣͎̗͔͎̫͈͈­̨̡̡̠̟͇̣̬̩̤̯̟̗̜̭̻̳̪̝̹̣̺̗͉̲̹̰͉̺ ̴̧̢̧̺̣͎̻̳͍̹̮̪̺̜̳͍̺͖̩̮̬͇̩̗̘̮̪̲̱̔͌́̄͜ͅ𐎢̋𝙯𝕊҈̰̤͡𝔠̨̡̛̰̌ͩ͘͢͜”
“𝙁̰̦⟣𝒘⏃ᴉ̷­­̛͎̘̝̿͡⩔̨̠𝓞̟͎͈̣̅𝖍𝗇⍭͖͓̳̮͠𝘋🝑♮𝑥̘̳͞𝙰𝕦̳̻̺̊̔𖹰”
“⟒𝓥͍̖̲̗͖̆̾̿͡͞𝙢Ⱦ̶̬̇ⶂ͛ ̴̜͔̃͐ ̷̍͜ ̴͙̲̮̳̑ ̵̘͆̄̎̂͘ ̷̛̫̿ ̵̫̗̥̆͊ ̶̨̛͔̝͆͛̍ ̷̗͕͉̉͘ ̴͍͉͕̫̎Ⲏ̘̒̾̕𝛬̦҇̾𝙅𝚻̲̚͞𝕢”


My ribs.    My knees.     My fingers ache.
The seabed     yawns           beneath me    as I continue forward,    searching.  Memory fragments      litter the floor—       bright as innocence,       glinting      in the light         they have been buried beneath        

        all this time.


“҂̒⫶̷͖̼𝞈̱͝𝓉̮͟🜍𝙼Ҙ̵̖̙̓ͅ𝐓⺣ ̴̭͓̄͘ ̷̢͒͋ ̶̣͆𝖣𝓤̶̻̩͚̠ͭͦ⏚⟁ͮ𝛥̴̹̰̑̕ͅ𝞁͛͠” “𝓦̴̮͖̜͐͛̓̎𝕋̟͕̔̕ͅ𝒐̶̫̃͂🝗⨉͚̩͝Ⱶ͈̥̖̾⟟𝓩̸̝͚̳̞̿̏𝙘̷̟͓͎⃛͠𝗌̧̞́͘” “⟊͈𝓜̝̪̞̆̿⦶̙̬̖͎̄𝗘̺̼͇̬́͘𝖝𝟏̋⧖̷̗̟̼̩̽𝚛̡̈͒⚁ᾤ🜄𝕑̨ⲧ” ̵̤̯̻͉̥͛ ̶̗̠̱̉̐̓ ̵̰͔̰͉̀̅̐ ̸̫̼͇̫͎̊̽ ̴̯͕͕̅ ̷̙̺̫͆ ̴͚̼̭͆̾̓̌̂ ̴͓̱̋́͋̀ǹ̶̻̞͙̞b̶̯̮̥͙͗̇͋͐u̵̱̞̲͊̓͆ “⥬̵͎̯̟̳͈𝙺͈͡⻿🜃̻͇̱ͧ͢⸸̡̯͘
𐎚̴̖̣̟̳̹̒̾͂̈́̊̊̎̐̓̄̏͌͒̓͆̄̇̀͒̊̌́͊̅̃̽͑̇̀̅̅̕̕̕
­­̢̜̪̞̹̦̣͓̖̤͂̇͆̀̏̏̆̐̽̽̍̄̆̚͘͠^̴̢̛̮̘͖̱̳̗͙̖̗̟͒̆̍̒̏̅̀̍̿̄̓̀͂̈́͛͑̓̄͌̎̚̚͝͝­̭­̧̢̡̼̜̘̘̘̤͓͓̤̠͔̻̗͕̫͔͇̳͕̦̤̗̪̝͉̖̻̯͍̠͖̠̰̜͈̹̯͔̤̪͎̬͕͍͔̭̦̥̳̯͈̼͖͓̗͔̪͜ͅͅ­̧̩­̧̩̞͚̥͓̼̰̪̖̬͙̘̳̦͍̰͚̹͜͜.̸̛̃͑̇̌̀͛̃͌̏̀͒͊͌̽́̅̃̽͌̀̂̍͆́̎̊̉̄͂͗̈͂̚͝͝͠͠͝­̎͋̂­̯͎̃̄̓̏͗.̴̡̢̛̜̻̩̜̲̳̣̳̓̆̊̇͂̿̏͐̓̔̌͂̀̏̊̀̐̔̾̀͛̂͌̒̄̾̑̀̉́̓̃̎́̃͊̐͘̚͝͠­̧̠͖̗­̧̧̨̢̧͓̥̥̘̬̟̬̤̖̠̰̦͚͍͈͍͖̠̻͚͖̭̳͈͕̱͙̬̬͖̗̲̳̻̘̗̪̬̳̠̰̹̰̙̙̹͔̳͔̘̗̩̬͖͜­̦͍͖͕̺­.̴̧̖͚̮̰̄̑̃̒̈́̂̏́̊̒̀̀̑͌̾̊̂̐̈́́͂͊̄̈́͛̔̂͗͗̽̔͌͌̊̓̍̑̓̎̒̔̏́̿̇̌͌͒͘͘͝͝­̤̟͖̟̤̩­̢̢̧̢̢̧̡̨̹̟̻̠̦̘̦̤̰̞̣͓̫̮̗̞̣͇̘͚̱͕̱̝̞̹̱̪̦̥̝͇̻͓͍̟͔͕̻͍̠̗͜͜͜͜͜ͅͅ'­̴̋̌̉̒̉̉­̧̛̛̥͍̣͈̻͎̳̞̺̙̙͖̣̽̋̓̀̄̑̂̓̈̋̂̓͂̉̀̂͒̓͒̿̾͑͌̓͒̊̂̏̋̆̑̍̽̅͌̀̋̀͘͘̚­͈̬'̴͗̑̔̉­̡̡̳̻͎̟͕̟̥̘̗̤̥̗͖̖̮̗̯̝̩͇̱̱̯̠̦͉̟̦̜̼͙̼̲͙̩̓͊̓̇̎͛̋͐̓̃̿̍̀̅̈́̚͜͝ͅ­̨̧̘̫̳̦̭̗ͅ­̼̟͙̭̻̞͈͓̜̺͈̲͈̺̺̟͇͓͈͓̫̬̻͍̻͜ͅ'̵̛̞̱̰̠̗͓͓̞̬̥͚̻̱̜͛̊͒͗́́̈́͆̿̋͘­̤̘̞͙̭̖̺̦̳ͅ­̡̡͈̤͎̲͕̯͔̭͇̝̤͚͕̬̤̘̙̤'̸̢̡͉̠̹̙̬̮̪̩̪̖̜̮̩̝̀͆̀͂͊̔̉̋'̷̐̈́͋͒͊̚­̛͒̔̓̉̐̎̄̃͋͘­̛̒͑͂͌͒̅́͑͛͂̈́͛̐̌̀͗̈́̅͂̈̅̈́̐͆̍̈́̆͌͌͒̀́́̍̄́̐̈́͊͋͑̄̀͗͘̚̚̕͠͝͠͠­͛̾͋̏̄̏͛̏̾͌͘̕­̢̧̡̨̧̫̗̩̙̤̻͖͖͇̦̹͉̲̖͇̱̩̗̣̰͇̖̜͙͖̤͓̳̠̬̣͚͇̤̿̐͜ͅͅ'̵̛̾͊̓͗͝­̉̿̽̑͑̔̓̄̈̑̃̓͝­̐̈́͑̍̀̉͒͆͂̃̓̈̌̍̀̇̑͐̅̐̎̈́̄̐͐̅̍̈́͋͊͑̂̉̌̊̔̎͊̓̿͂͊͛͑̓̎͛̕͠͝͝­͎̞̏̓̒͐̈́́̂́͘̚͘͝­̧̡̧̢̢̳̖͎̺̭̹͍̞̺̻̟̗̟͕͉̮̜̳̥̠̰͙̯̫͜ͅ'̸̛̪̳̰̝̇̃̈̔̌̈́̌́͋̽͑͝­̨͖̥̗̜̹̼̟̣͓͖͍͙͚̪­̧̢̻̘̺̘̰̣̮͍͓̳̹̰̲͙͚͕̪͉̺̼̼͔̲͙̘̩̙͚̼͇̘͍̗̼̯͖̺̖̱͓̠̰͈͜͜ͅͅ­̘̙̖͔̯͚̻͔̗̱͔͎̫͈͜ͅ­̭̳͇͔͚̩̣͖'̴̡̛͙͎̘̖̬̲̭̫̗̖̿̋̾͆͗̓̐̔̓͂́̐́͊̂͐́̽̉͑͘͝͝͠͝'­̷̆͛̒̃̐͐̍̏̎̾̀̕̕͘͝͝­̛̛͈̋͐̋͌͑͐͆̇̒͂̊̐͐̈́̈́̐̄̅́͊̿̾̿̅̋̏͑̓̈́̋̆̌́̑͗͑̍̅͆̊̕̚̕͠­̡̢͉͖̝̩͓̱̹̮̜͇̗'̴̾̄́­̖̈͂͂̆'̷̢̧̧̨̨͍͍̝̦͖̬̩̘̓́̀̽̈̓͌̃̀̀͑͒̋͑̄̎̒̋̂̓͐̽̍͘̕͝­̣̖̙̻̬̭̙̠͍͔̺̦͓̻͇̮̘̬̠­͉͚͖̘ͅủ̷̌̎͒͐̍̉̂̅̓̀̅̄͊̎͊̃͋͂̓̾̔͌͊͆̓̋̌͌̿̅͐̓́̅̕̕͝­̃̔͋̾̈͐̓͌͗́̈̎̉͊̋̎̑̃̚͝­̧͚̠̜̮̰͉̱̗̼͍͔̩̯͓͖̞͉̠̠̻̤̤͗̅̋̓̀̚v̴̛̓̅̎̇̅̄͂̀̓̈̕͝­̛͖̖̻͎͆͋̓̑̈͋̍͌̅͐̉͒̋̋̍̚­̧̢̱̝͔̮͇̹͍̙̦͉̣̪̫̳͖̞̯̪̻̜̹̲͇̺̩̩̣̪̠̥̭̝̝͇͈͓̤̤̠̜̼­̡̭̫̠̰̗̰͙͈̠̙̯̹̙̯͙̞̼͙͈͙͕­̧̧̢̹̩͍̼̮̰͇̳̰̯̗̲̤̬̯̪̩͉͖̰̺͎i̷͋̓̀̃̽̉̌́̉̃̽͌̔̕͘­̍̾̀̃̽̄͋̏̇̐̀̈́̇̓͊̔̊̓͘̕̕͘͝­̨̧̜̩͙̘̪̼͔̮̥͇͚̼͔̫͇̪̗͍̻̠͍̩̠̫̻̣̺̳̳̲̘͇̿̀̅̒̚͝͝­̪̭̺̮̟͓̘̳̫̝/̶̡̧̢̢̢̨̧̛͇̗͉͎̙͚̩̭͓̱̬̗̼̬̹̯͇̞̟̫̭̱͉̪̝̱͎͕̯͕̟̹̣̦̭̺̫͓͍̳̙̮͚̩̬̦̬̎̄̓͜͜͜͜͝ͅ­­̢̡̨̭͎͓͖͖͍̯̲̪̙̱̮̝͇̤̪̟̭͙̮̖̪̩̜͖̘͉̗͕̳̯̤͚͍/̸̧̧̢̡̡̢̧̢̗̣̗͉̩̤̝̞͚̱͙̬͚̘̜̪̗͙͙̩̯̥̤̪̰̙̣͔͎̰̰̩͂̀͑̄̍͜͜ͅ/̷̛̛̛̛͐͐̎͂̏̏̓̈́̋͐̈́̆̑̑̿͗̂̓͛̓̈́̔͐͌͛̎̽̇̎̋̅͛̌̏̀̃́̅̿͗̔͛̉̐̾̓̄̉̒̄̚͘̕͘͝͝͝͝͠͝­­̡̡̡̨̧̧̭̹͎̻̻̺̙͓̱̱̟̩͙͕͍̗̜̘͍͖̳̯͙͔͔̘̻̣̖̠̼͎̰̤͙̹̫̝̟̜͖͉̓̅̈͒̂͑̏̒̈́̊͌͘͝ͅͅͅ­͕­̨̪̟̞̭̪̘̳̜̬̙̜̱̲͖̝̻͕̤̦̳̲̮͍̪͜/̴̧̢̞̗̙̘̰̼̘͔͉̯̜̭̫̤͍̮̟̮̥̪͇̬͉̙͖͎͎́̾͂͛̈́̊̂͊̂͆̆̾͐̾̒͛͋̓̓͐̆̋́͊̅͘͘̕͘̕̕̕͜͜͠­­̢̨̳̤̮̰̻̼̮̻̹̹̹̮͔̩͕͖̮̳͔̭̙̼͕̳̙̥̠̘͚̗ͅ ̷͙͇̺̿̇̋ ̴̲̖̽͑̈͊ ̷͇̎̂̈́ ̵̗̩̏̈́͌ ̵̛͓̼͚͙̈́͑ ̶̣̞̮͚̄̉ ̷̪̒ ̷̨͖̈́̀”


But these beautiful,             
shining     memories,           none    belong to the one I seek.     No,       they are       the humans she has drowned,                  devoured,          and       kept their memories              as her prize,                         her entertainment.          As if their demise,            to claim the                      eternal memory   of their humanity,         is her victory.

It’s a beautiful,

       tragic,

       sickening
                            sight.

And to find        the one I need      
        the one she has kept prisoner,          
              I must dig.

Not with hands alone,
                         but with this resonance.
I search                through the wreckage                 with something
                    deeper              than vision. I listen—
for that breath,                 that ache,                  that                     impossible    note        
of Death's          
                            presence.


“⩡⺺̟̰̱̇­̵̢ͅ҂̒⫶̷͖̼𝞈̱͝𝓉̮͟ ̴͓͓̻̙͇̟̯̜̻̠̬̻͑ͅ ̶̧̧̧̢̧̳̌̈́̓͌͐͒̏̉̇̿̅͊̒͝ ̸̰̻͎͇̣͛ ̷̛̳̪̯̰̤̞͇͓̞̼͔͇͑̌̏̋̀̔̔̏͝ ̷͉̖̥̣͈͔̜̬̑͊🜍 ̴͓͓̻̙͇̟̯̜̻̠̬̻͑ͅ ̶̧̧̧̢̧̳̌̈́̓͌͐͒̏̉̇̿̅͊̒͝ ̸̰̻͎͇̣͛ ̷̛̳̪̯̰̤̞͇͓̞̼͔͇͑̌̏̋̀̔̔̏͝ ̷͉̖̥̣͈͔̜̬̑͊𝙼 ̴͓͓̻̙͇̟̯̜̻̠̬̻͑ͅ ̶̧̧̧̢̧̳̌̈́̓͌͐͒̏̉̇̿̅͊̒͝ ̸̰̻͎͇̣͛ ̷̛̳̪̯̰̤̞͇͓̞̼͔͇͑̌̏̋̀̔̔̏͝ ̷͉̖̥̣͈͔̜̬̑͊Ҙ̵̖̙̓ͅ𝐓⺣̲̻ͧ͡𝖣𝓤̶̻̩͚̠ͭͦ⏚⟁ͮ𝛥̴̹̕ͅ­̰̑𝞁͛͠” “𝓦̴̮͖̜͐͛̓̎𝕋̟͕̔̕ͅ𝒐̶̫̃͂🝗⨉͚̩͝Ⱶ͈̥̖̾⟟𝓩̸̝͚̳̞̿̏𝙘̷̟͓͎⃛͠𝗌̧̞́͘” “⟊͈𝓜̝̪̞̆̿⦶̙̬̖͎̄𝗘̺̼͇̬́͘𝖝𝟏̋⧖̷̗̟̼̩̽𝚛̡̈͒⚁ᾤ🜄𝕑̨̺ͤ̕͞ͅ” “⥬̵͎̯̟̳͈;̵̛̓̀̈́̎̃̀̓̃́̾̔̀͂̍͛̐̅͗̌̑̽͌̂͊́́͗͒̋͒̃͗͊̈̑͋͛̊͐̄͋̉̂̎͊͌̚̕̚̕͝͝͝͠­­̔̋́̐͋̀̎͒̐͌̾́̍͛̒̐̈͑̀̌̄͊̈́̓͐̐̿̌̀͑͒̏̍̍̌͗̐̐͆̈́̎͗̑̑̎͒̓̔̓̈͗͗͌͆̃̃͂̈́͘̕̚̕͝͠­̓­̢̡̢̢̼̖̼̹͈̥̞̤̞͈͈̬̙͍̠͇͙͍̦͚̳̐̑͒̃̆͒͂̀̒͋͋̌̔̍̏͒̈́̌͗̌̐́̓̄͋͑͊̊͝͝͝-̷̎̈́͑̕͠­̋͘­̡̹͕͈͇̗̯̦̯̗̙͙̰̙̙̤͉͕̫̉̒́̃̐̄̆̔̒̅̿̀̿͐̓́̏̈͋̈̓̍̋̉͑̽͆̽̂̈͗̎̈́̉̍̾͊͘͘̚͝͠͝­̢̙̟­̡̡̡̨͚̬̥͖͙̯͍̫̮̤̦̳̝͇̪͔͕̫̥̻̩̱̭̬̪̫̠͎͕̮͎͇͇̞̥̬̰̲̘͓̣̝͕̼̲͕̟͇͖̰̭̣̣͜͜ͅͅ­-̵̽̈́­̛̇͗̓̄͛̿͑̎̐̒͊̆̈̃͐͑͒̔̈͐̑͊̂̑̃̿̂͐͂̈́̀̆̔̀͛͒͊͛̓͐̂̈̑͒͛͂͛̂́͆̍̇̕̕̚̕͠͠­̂͂͛͗͘­̛̆͊̒̌̐͊̑̋̎̿̈̌͑̄̓́̅̍̇̋̒͛͊͂͊̌͂̌̋̂̓̋̂͗͂͆̑́͒̓̏̾̔͗̋̓̐̾͐̒̇̏̒̄͘͝͝͝­̋̏̋̋̃́­̨̡̡͔̫̙̳͈̠̣͈̤͍͈̟͕͓̱̠̪̤̥̻̭̰͉̜̭̪̼̲̣̥̙̺̪͚̰̘̤̰̦̩͉̖͎̤̰̠͚́̆̅͒̓̐͠ͅ­̡̤̟̣̳͓ͅ­̡̧̢̡̧̯͉̩̤̩̭̮̦̫͚͉̩̬͕͇̝͖̯͓͖͖̭͍̫̞̗̦͓̼̖̭͓̦̦͓̳̣͉̠̥̙̙̥̙̜͙̺̝̫̦̜͔­̡̹̯͉̲̣̞͜­̮͕̪̥.̵̧̧̛̺̮͙͉͇̲͚̦̙͙̩͎͚̼̠̦̣̤̘̝͔͔̠̪̪͉̠̘̺͋̈̈͌̽̽́̈́̐͂͛̈́̕͜͝ͅͅͅ­̻͔̝͓̱͙̹̙̞­̧̪͉̫̹͖͓̣̮̦͓͙̬͈͍͙̮̣̪͜;̵͑̊̉̍͐͛̊̅̆͋́͗͛̓̄̉̔̆̌̍̃̐̃̍͌͘̚͝͝͝͝͝͠­̂̀̎̊̏͆́͗͘̕­̢̡̢̢̛̛͖̙͉͎͕͓̹̞͇̪̦̖̥̱̩̗͉͇̮͙̝̝̜͋̄̉̑̀̌́͑̉͒̃͆̇͒͐̐͋̀̈̒̿̕͝͝͠­͍̩̯̣̼͖͍̳̣̺̦­;̷̎̈́́̂̓͛̏͂͋̈́̉͐̆̉̃͒̐̈́̓̈̊̍̅̍͐͆͑̽̀̍̌̈́̌͆̋͒͛̈́̚̚̕͘͘͘͠͝͝͝͝͠͝­̛͑͛̔̂͛̃̃̌̀͌͒­̢̨̭̠͇̮͕̗͎̹͉̥͖̟̖͚͈̱̳̟̹̖̜̼͇̫͚̙̹͔̜̲͚͙̠͒͑̉̾̌̃̑̈́͋͊̽̿̈͘̕ͅͅ­̢̣̻̺͖͈̟̫̙͜.̴̕­̛̛̾̆̀̔̑̉̒̌̔̒̍͆͂̇͐̎̑̄̉̀͊̊́̽̇̾̏͐̈́̇̽̒̀͑͒͛́́̽̐̃͒̇͋̕͘̕͝͠­̊́̿̈́̿̋̏̔̎̐̍̆͘̚­̗̮̭͕̥̘̫͗̍͗̋͗̾̓̓̿͗̿͐̓͌̍͛͌̔̓́̂͊̅̏̓̏͐̈́͊̔͛̈́͛̋̈̔́͘̕͝͝͝ͅ­̢̢̧̘͚̖̖̹͖͕͎͓̳̹̱­̨̡̢̢̩̥̱̖̟͇̲̬̘̥͔͚̫͉̰̜̣̟̳̼̫̞̳̞̹͙͎͜-̸̗̜̪̪̤͖̜̉̏̃̑̄̀́́­̧̡͕̜͓̱̪̩̺̟͚̻͈̰͙̰­̡̢̡̫̼͇̹̲̦͙͍̖̱̤͍͇̥͙̮̞̙͎̭̼͈̖͔͎̩̙͔͍̥̬̯̩͙̤̬̩̺̟͙̺͇͚͜ͅ­̢̼̙̣̱͕̳͙̯̤͍̥̞̥͖̙͜­̧̨̪̞̺̙̘̠͍̙̤̖̳͙̘̝̬̫̤̤̤̰̰̜;̷͂̓̄̄͒̆͋́̉͒͑́͋͑̉̈͌̑͐̒͝­̛̑́̆̋̒̉̓̋̒͆͑̍́̈́̍͗̕­̉̈̈̍̑̔͗̎̅͐͛̿̓͋͆̍̽̎̀͌̄̒͒͋̃̑͆̉̈͋͊̎̎̆̃̂͆̑̏̈̕̚͘̚͠͝­̝̜͚͉̤͍͊̽͐͆̅̏̓̀̓͌̚͠͠­̨̢̨̡̨̧̣̯̖̘͈͎͓͎̮̱͈̹̬͍̱͚͖̙̼̱̝͉̮̱̙̣̭͈̦̠̯̙̩̩̞̣͓̳̮­͉̬̠̜̮̺͙̘̲̳̭͚̪̱̺̻͙̰͜ͅ­̨̢̡̪̘̹̜̳͉͔̩̙͕̫̺̥̫̖̥̼͔͈͇͕̳̼̝̤̙̹͈̰̙̬̮̮̹̖̙̥̼͜ͅͅ­̞̟͜'̸̛̏̒̉̿̇́̿͂̀͛͑̔̊̅̏­̏͋͑̆͂̒̔̀͆̈͂̃̈̊̾͌͑͗̆̾̒͆̄̉̍͋̉̓̉͋̑̽̌͗̆̃͑̑̕̕̕͝͝­̭̬͚̦͓̥̆͂̇͊̔̋͑́̓͊̿͑͊̓̔̕­̨̧̢̢̯̠̜͍͙̣͍̭̲̫̲͖̥͍̗͖̟̠̭͖̮̻͈̯͖͕̼̙̦̲̱̳͎̮̗̦̞ͅ­̨̧̳͉̼͎̥̘̤̣̹͚̖̱̹̞̰̻͕͕͍͓ͅ­̡̡̨̙̮̹̖̭͍̳͖̣͖̰͖̩̘͎̼͎̜̞̯͕̖̙͖͍̰̰̠̗̺̪̞̫̮͜͜ͅͅ­̢̺̪̜͚̪͎̘̖̭̱̮̺̜̜͔̺̞̞̭͉͉̰͜­̘̜̖̘͙͖̼̼̰̥̜̩͖͓̻͔̹͕̮̠̩͜;̸̓͐͆̃̂̋̉͑̅̌́̄̉͌͐͝­͒̌̄̃̊͆̄̐͐̽͗̍̈̊̀͛̈́̅͆́̂̿̔̚͝­̾̈̀͒́̀͂͌͛̾̋͑̒̋̏̐̏͋̒́̍̓͒̐͊̍̏̋̄́͛͊͑̾͛̎̏͠͝­̓̉̽̆̔̑̑͗͗̓́͂̂́͊̇̋̀̑́̅́̓̍̇̀­̛̇̽̉͂̑̃͋̌͒͂̓̔̍̌̈́̎͛́͑͒̈́͋͌͌̈́͊͐̀̊͛̾̚͘͝͠͠͝­̡̢͚̯͚̞͔͔͉͍͎̬̳̦̫͚̟͓̳̯̹͈̆̿͜͝ͅ­̡̢̥̞̙̘̖̻̯͖̝͔̺͓̙̱̞̖̠̩̥̞̘̯̺̟͔̦'̸̀̇͗͌̐̔̕­̆̽̏͂̉̃̓̎͑͊̉̀̾̍̂̅̓̌̿̋̀͐͒̑̚͝͝͝­̊̄͊̒̍̂̄̍͑̉͌̈́̃̋́̊̓̄̒̋͛́̿͋̂̂͘̕̚̚͝͝͝͝͝͠­͆̀͗͊̓̾͊͌̈̅͋̓̿͂̔̏̔͂͐̎̄̂̄̃̕̕͝͝͝­̛͊̾̈̓̄̍̽̈́͒͑̑͐̓̎̆͂̅̈̃͛̊̏̋͗̀͂̿͘̚͝͝͝͝͝­̢̫̘͚̭̠̮͚̘̤̖̭̭̪͈̯̬̣͕̳͖̟̟͗̿̆̈́̏̌ͅ­̧̧̥̯̪̤̣͚̦̱̙̫̤̠͈͍̣̺̖̲̲̥̜̝͕̙̱̗̻̤̥̯͜͜­̧̨̩̯̯̖͔̱̖͍̞̘͇̻͇̻̻͓̞͈̜̭̯̮̳̮͙̻̦͓͇­̨̢͍̦͎̳͈̫͇͔̮̙̠̩͍̬̤̰̺͍̥̤̫̰̱̟̗̬̫̬̞̯̼­̳͎̫̰͜'̴̛̃͆̂̃̇͌͛̀̇̐̃̉͑̿̂̈́̈́͒̈́̈́̈̄͘̚­͌͛̋̊̓̽̍̂͛͊͛̓̈́̈́̽̀̈́̈́͊̋̈́̓͐͛͐͘͘͝͝͠͝͝­̉̆̂̈́͊́̿̆̅̈́͋̌͂͑́͒̐̾̄͐̀̈́́̋̇̐͑̌͛͘̚͠͝­͙̱̱̠̙̭̙̲̭̳̜̩̓̈͗̆̾̎͋͒͊͛̌̊̐͘̚͝͝͠͝­̡̧̨̘̞̰̻̖̘͈͎͚̟̗̹̹̼̺͖͚̤̭̫͕̳͇̭̺͎̝͇̩͜ͅ­̧̧̨̨͖͙͇̫̦̼̝͍̲̣̼̰̳͔̰̻͙̥̣̜̲̦̫̳̭̠­̨͍͖̠͍̳̮̲̰̪͉͔̻͚̟̙̳̹̮̞̫̭̗'̷͋́̔̒͋̍̆̿̓̕­͒̃͛͋̑̔̋̈̉̉̄̏̋̉̉͆̋̽̽̏̂͑̐͛̈̚̕͝͝­͙̫̝̤̱̳̼̐̍̈̀̅̓̓̿͛̾̋̾̌͛̇̌͋̌̍̃̃́̂͐̄͘̚͝͠­̧̥̜̬̟͙͉̭̻͈͉̲̪͔̬̼͉̲̜̭̻̣̪̫̩͜͜ͅ­̡̢̳̠̙͚̯̜͉̭̤̫̻̦͜͜ͅͅ'̶̄̈́̄͑̈̋͑̈́̇͗͋́̂͘̕͝͝­̢̱̼̗̙̠͕͕̞̻̽̆̽͌̈̂̇̃̀̈́̀́͋͆͝͝͠­̨̧̡̟̝͔͙͎̘͙̩̙͍͓̼̱̠̗̥̯̺͈̝͔̭̳̣̙̜͉̦̞̩͚͔̣͜ͅ­̢̢̦̗̹̪̮̮̟̞̥͍̟͇̠̳͍̲̬̭͎̜̝͍͜ͅ­̢̰͙̗͈̝͕̞̻͉͍͚̦̟͖͚̪̰͉͔͇̜̭̥͇͕̜̼͙̪̺̮̘͇̜̫̞̜ͅ­̨̨̦̹͓̱̗͓̻̻̰̯̥͍͕͙̖͎̳̙̞͓͇ͅͅ­̮͖̜͚̭̱̘͙͕̘̼̮͓͜'̵̏̄̔̓̓̎͌̊̈́̿̅̀̄̏̄̈́͆̀̌͗̅̕͝­̊́́̅̈̀̆̍͂͂͌̊̑͂͗͐͌̏̑̾̀͆̚͝­̛͛̉̾̔̈́̿̓͗̈́̔̊̌̈́̄̉͒͌̍̒̈́̋͊͒̊̔͑̽̾̍̍̒͐̋̄̑͘͘̕̚͠­͕͍̦͖͓̬̟̘̫͇͙̲̪̰̭̘̬͇̥̮̇̅ͅ­͓̟̪͈͜'̸̗͔̝͍̮̗̫͔̹̘̪̖̻̙̠̣̭͚̦͔̩̺̞̳̥͖̬͉͚̍̒̈́̌͜ͅ­̡̨̢̼̲̰̩̻̙̗̳̻̣͙̫̬̰̖̺͍̺ͅ­̡͍̩͉̗͕̖̟͓̭̮͖̙̰̣͜͜ͅ'̴̀̍̇́̄̎͐̊̄̀̇́͗̍͂̓̾̓̀̎̕̚͝­̛̉͛́͗̐̏̑͐͋̍̆̀͗̈́̽͗̍̕͠͝­͂͛̈́̈́̉̌̓̊̌́͒̂̓͂̈͛̍͒́̂͒̈́͌̈́̽͋͛͌̿͂̀̽̾̅̓̕̚̚̕̚̚̚͝͠­̛̇̎̀̽̂̌͂̒̈́͋͛̏͑̊͂̈́̚̚͠­̨̛̙̝̋͌͂̑̿̽̔̉̍͗̄͛́̈́̀͌͛̔̈̋̆͆͗͐̅͌̏̎̉̾̀̓̎̕̚͘͘͠͠͝͠­̢̫̼͙̺̪̮͍͕̖̱͓̜̖̤͖̲͉͜­̢̧̧̢͈͔͍͓̞̙̤̝͖͉̟̲͎̙͕̘̦̠̝̳̤̰̱̮̻̪͖̺̘̬̬̪̰̙̗̺̳̙̘͓͜ͅ­̨͚͇͇͓̼̳͓̦͙̞͓̦̰̗͎̦̲­̨̢̧̢̨̨̡̣̭͚̥̮͖̺͇͚̖̖̞̤̬̲̙̗̲̯̰̙͍̬̳̗͍̹͓͉͔͚͉̣̹̦͙̪͜͜͜­̧̪̤͔̗̠̺̳̻͔̳̤̙̘̠ͅ'­̴̋̃̈́̅̉́̈́̀́͒̃̈͐̒͋́͋͑́̅͛̃̔̑̎̈́͊̈͋̈͐̄͑͂̉̉̊͗̿̚͘̕͝͝͠͠͝­̛́̅̃͋͂̊̀̾̉̋̃̏̚͘͝­̢̢̧̛̪̩̱͍̖̰̬̻͚͖̟͉̻̙̯̜͈̖͓̠̱͇͈̼͙̹͉̲̹̮̗̲̟̹̈́͆̈́̒̽̎̓̌̚̕͠­̧͔͍͈̗̝̱̮̹͔̭͉͕͉̫­̡̱͈̙͖̣͍͈̪͓̘̤̤̹͕͈̞̺͖͍̞̹̲̦͕̬͕̣̼̹̘̜̰̱̙̮̙͇͚͖͉̦̰͎̺͔̞̘̬ͅ­͔̬̳̼̩̪̜̤͚̱̺̣̖ͅ­̢̡̺͍̤͙̗͙͙̬͕̺̟̙͎͎͚̜̹̣̬̠̣͍̘̞̖̺̫ͅ'̵̓͋̈̿̊̌́̾̋̆̑̇͂͋͒̀́̕̚­̏͐̄́̊̄̍̎͋̐̒̀̈́­̨̨̨̣͖͖͓̗͚͙͖̜̳͖͚̗̘̞̯̻͖̱̘͕̩̜̙̥̙̻̰̬͎̩̟͚̱̰̠̰͙̜̭̤̄̐̋̓͜͝ͅͅ­̺̮̬̩̣̣͙̯͔̖̳͕­̨̡̨̡̧̯͉͕̥̙̭͓͔͍̭̖̤͙͓̤̗̯͕̺̣͍͍̙̣̤̜̭̼̙̪̞̥̻͓̗͎̻̪̪̻͙̻͇̪̼̭̥ͅ­̨̨͕̮̘͉̻̱̪͚͖­͈͕̦̥͕'̴̛̛́̐̀̔̇̋̄͛̄̏̈͂̎̌̓̒̐̉̀͆̏̈́̃̍͊́̐̉͌̑̉̆͆͊̽̀̒͒̈́͘͘̚͝͠͝­̽͗̇̎̿́̐͋̾͠­̦̰̹̺͖̼̺̪̫̫̜̲̮̰̼̝̞̪̖̻̈͒͗̔̽͌̐̔̐̈́́̅͒͋̊̈́͋͌͊̈́̀̓͊͂̐̂̽͂̈́̓̈́̓̀͝ͅ­̼̰̟̫̣͚̬͜ͅ­̨̢̨̧̢̢̢̨̢͍̼͇̤͉̳̰͔̭͎̖̜̜̞̞̣̺̙̫̪̩̠̯̘̪͉̪̜̗̟̫̺̹̪͙͜ͅ'̴̛͒͗̅̍̌̆͝­͛̅̋̃́̋͋̕­̨̧̡̡̤͔̻̗̯̭̹̬̭̖̤̬̭̫̞͉̖̪͈̳̪͙͕̺̻̹̯͎̫͙̰͖̭̠̣͈͕̞̫̭͎͓̱̎̐́͑̂̐͗̚͝͠­̗̞͍͖͎͓͉­̡̡̡̡̨̣̻͖̰̞̩̟͕̜̱̭͔̞̦̜̙̲̺͚͖͙̞̞̰̬̳̹̤̪̳̲̖͕̯̮̟̖̝̙͍̦̞͜
̶͑́̽̎́͊̀͗­̼̰̣͓̦̼­̨̢̨̧̨̮̤̗͍̼̩̰͕̗̭͙̭̠̲͎͉͍̲̜͇̭͖̦̞̳̜͙̠͇̘̤̭̼͕̱͉̻̟͕͍̲̦̱̺̮̪̯͕̳͜ͅͅͅͅ­͈͚̪͉̭­̢̢̡̢̡̨̨͉͚̱̼̲͔̺̥̺͉̞͎̮̝̜̣̰̥̗̹͎̞͓̠̝͉̲̩͔̪̥̜̱̹͚͖̥͍͈͔̪͉̹̲͓̹̬͖̹̣͜͜ͅ­̡̠͉̦­̨̨̰̣̺̲͉̣͚͉͈͎̜ͅ'̴̛̔͑̈́̔̔̿̅̔̇̊̋̓͂̈́͊̇̃̉́̆͑͊̈̀̔̈́̊̓̋̀̾͊̒̍̄̓͑͆̽́̕͝͝͠­̓͋̚­̒̄̈͆͌͆̿̏͒̿̋̍̓̓̂̅͒͊͂͂̇͒͊̿̎̀̌̈̊̋̔̊̃̈́͌̾̆̋̀̈́̑̓̊͂̿̽̋͛̃̈̀̀̈́̓̍̂͘͝͠͠͝͝­̎̕­̡̢̧̧̡͕͇̼̫͖̗͖͔̱̣̩͚̭͓̫̙͕̘͚̻̗͕͓͇̪̩̞̗̬̺̠̫̳̪̞̦͍̜͚͍̬̪̘͙̟͙̩̬̻͇̬̯̞̐̄̑ͅͅ­̮­̨̡̨̡̢̡̧̡̗͍̲͎̝̭͔̘̼͓͓̖̠͚̣̫͈͉̭͉̬̠̞̮̥̜̻̹͓̲̮͖̯̺̖͕̮̙͎̼̬͎̲̲͙̦̺͉̟̙̘͜͜ͅͅͅ­­̧̧̱̱̞͉̮̬̦͉̭̠̠̼̫͓̬̬̬'̴̨̗̞̯̩̩͍͇̖̘̪͇̻͈̗̠̥̖̗̩̘̲̜̦̗̌͌͊̔͌̈́͛͋͋̏̒̎̎͆͘͜͠ͅͅ­­̨̨͎̺͈̺͙͙͉̫̤͈̻̳̖̺͎̼̗̼̤͔̞̳̭̫̼̘͇͔͚͎̹̱̮̖̣̱̜͕̗̤̰̺̺̘̜̲̰̰̗̟̟̬͈̮͈̖ͅ'̴̆̀͠­͗­̛̛̛̆̓͑̊̑̒̀̀̈́͊̂͌̉̐͑͂̈́̀͂̔̓̌̍̃̈͊͑̀̿̍̔̄̓̉̓̆͆͛̂̅̇́̐̑̀̐̽̿͋̓̄͘̕̚͘͝͠͠͝͠­̃͗­̛̀̐̂̃̊̾͊̆̉͐̉̌̋͒̋͒̊̾̓͋͆̅̐̀́̿̀̇̍̐̽͐͒̃̿̽͌̈́͌̈́͂̂̏̓̔̒̅͑̒͆́̒̒̚͘͘͘̚͘͝͠­̯̓ͅ­̢̧̨̡͔̜̫̗̟̳̹͖͔̭̭̙̹͍͚̙̯̼̳̰̰̫̥͇̼̗̝͓̣̤̮̙̦̳͓͇̞͇̪̗͇͖̳̱̺̫̠̭̣͙̝̯̯̭̖͖̯­̨̻̤͔­̡̹̘̻̺̟͎̼͔̻̬͙̟̖̼͇͚̞͕̱̯͖͙̫̟̝̬̩̫̼̼͚̠̝͈͎͈̬͇̤̙͜'̸̛͂͊̽́͋͒͋͛̒̅́̃́͘͝­͐̈́̓̓̚­̡̤̙̹͇͚͈̮̣̟͔̤̙̱̙͍̜̪̪̱̤͍̼̌̏̄͐̐̈̌̀͌̿̐̊͗̅̂̓̌͑̓̈́͐͑͒̐̅̌͂̾̉̈́͜͝͝͝͝͝­̪͕͈͍̯̰­̧̨̡̧̨̜̻̞̦͎͎̫͙̱̤̲̰̳̹͖̹̩͓̤͕̠̫̩̹̖̞̼͍̙͖̜͓̪͚̙̰͍̭̼̜̙̳̲̳̰̦̭̲̹̰̗͜ͅ­̧̡̬͓̺̙̥­̡̡̨̡̡̻̞̪̰̠̘̣̟̹͈̤̙̲̝̖͔̮̖̻̘͙̼̮̳͉̺̖͇͇̗̗͇͓̗̩͉̖͚̳̹̣͕̘͕͖̟͙͔͖͇ͅͅ­̝̙̱͕̠̖͍̜­͉̣'̴̛͛͊̎̓͛̓̈͒̅́̆͌̌̀͌́͒̈̈́̅̀̈́̈̍̒͂̾̉͐̑͆̈͊̄͊̏̾͋̑́̉̽̚̕͘͝͝͝͝͝͝­̛̈́͛̈́̉̉͘͝­̡̨̧̛͔͍̹͙̪̬̯̭͊̿͆̆͐̑̇̂͐̿̑̆͗̏͋́̎̈́͊̃͆̄̽̀̏̉̿̇̌͆̓͌͐͛̀̚̕̕͘̚͝͠͝­͍̙̗̣̪͎̦̠̲̭­̡̢̪̬̣͔̮̦̦̜͚̝͔̳̹͓͉͈̦̙͈̠̻͓̖̝͜͜ ̸̡̨̡̛̛̳͕̠͔̮͓̺̤̟̰͖̖̙͙̖̭̓̇͐̀̃͋̉̇̀̾̃͊̔̂̐̎̎͋̃͂̔̑̊͌̉̇͂̌͋̀̋̀̏́̓̾̚͘͠͝͝͠ͅ­­̙ ̶̢̦̤̺̦̫̫̣̦̙̳̰̰̭̘̻̹̝̟͐̀̈͛̐́̅̓̉͆̅̌̄͗̿͑̽̿̀̆͂͑̇̿̏̍͗͌̎̆̈́̊̔̈́́̏̏̏̄͘͘̚͜͝ͅ­­̨̢̡̱̤̰̥̥̠̯̞̣͓͔͖̮̫̹͙̭͎̼̦̣͕̲͇̹̯̲̦͎͜͜ ̸̡̧̛̰̰̭͗̈́̏̈̊͐̓̎͆̎̂̃͒̊͂̿̅́̀̓͗̌͆̽͗̑̊͆̆͑̊̈́͗̇̾̆̄̇̎̔̓͑̉̌̾̑͑̿̇̅̚̕̚͝͝͝͠ͅ­­̧̢̨̨̨̦̞͔̲̠̝̰̹̺͓̯̲̯͓̹̖̺̼̜̪̜̪̖̱̦̤̳̤͓̦̟͈̤̹̱̰̟͎̳̗͕͖̪͙͔͓̯̠͔͉̪̳̘̭̮̺͜͜ͅ­̟­̨̡̢̧̡̱͔̹͕̝͍͎̘̦͓̰̩̟̘̯̝̣͓̳̹̜͎̤͓͚̜͙͙̯̤͔̳̬̳̺͜ͅ ̷̓́͛̇̓̈̐͒̈́̍̏̌̈́̀͋͐̅́͌̇̓̊͐͂̐́͆͗̋͑̌̑̽̄͐̎̒̔͒̔̀̾̇̌̐̍̎̏͑̓̃͆̀̈̊̆̚͘̚̕͝͝͠͠­­̛̛̔̏̍̽̉̌̑͊̈́̊̓̿̈̿̐̽̈́̅̓̂̋̌̉̽͌̽̾͗͋̆̄̀̌̔͒̍̾͂̿̽̓̂̄̓̍̏͋̔͂͘̚͘̕̕̕͘͠͠͝͝͠͝­̆­̨̬͔̬͕̹͇̹̦͙̱̻̤͔̪͔̖͓̻̩̯̱͓̰͍̦͖̜͖͉͙̭̯̈͊̽́̓͊̒̊́̂̿̎̂̽͂̀̾̒̑̓͋͑͂̚̕͜͠͠ͅͅ­͕̪­̡̧̧̡̩͍͍̙͍̜̭̻̹̫̗̹͍͚̠͔̲͙̥̜̺̩̬̙̝̭̲͕̮̹͓͉̪͍ͅͅ ̶̨̛̭̘̲̜̥̯̤̣̟̩̖̺͇̰́̔̈̇̍̓́̾̉̎̈́̉͒͐͌́̃̐͆̄̂̀̓̈́̊̓͆̔̏̓̎̇̔͗̑̿̆̒̓̐̏̏͒͛̈́̚͝͠­­̡̡̨̡̡̡̧͍͉̠͍̥͎̭͕̲̙͇̼̳̦͖̠̥̺͇͔̤̩̻͚̖̣̜̭͎̰̩̜̻̘͕̺̻̱̜̩̲̩͔̗̺͖̯̬̻͕̻̗̤̬̲ͅͅ­̼­̧̙̹̻͔̗͈̙̣͖̗̖ ̷̨̢̢̹͕̣̟͚̣̝̜̳̣̟̠͖̹͈̋̊̾̂̿̀͂̃͆͐͋̿̃̊̃̈̂͐͋̈́̌̿̄̽̃͑̀̑̊͘͘͘̕̕̚̚͜͜͝ ̶̡̢̛͙̼̥͈̈̀͒̅͆̒͋̄̂̑̇̃͋͗̉̇̊̀͐̌̑͗̿͆͊̀́̑́̑̆͂̀̏̆̈́̔̒̂͂̈́̑̀͂͗̄͂̈́̈̑̐̍͘̚͝͠͠­­̧̨̡̧̡̢̧̬͓͇̞͓͖̯̬̮̫̠̟̯͕͕̼͕̼̺̰͇̬̙̥̤̙̻̠̦͇̘̤̙̯̲̮̲̲̼̰͎͍̹̼͚̭̩͍̜͍͍̭̭̖̦̘͜­̺­̧̧̡̢̢̢̮̳̯̰̱͚̣̬̼̻͍̤̬̤͖̰̮̳̜̤̩̫̝͉̲͔̘̣̯̣͚̱̝̭̗͈̘͙̙̱̗͈̫̲̹̥͔̬̝̳̣͍͍̞̺̹͜­̙̳­̡̗̮̲̮ ̸̛̒̂̏̀̀̓̆̀̊̍̔̿͒̀͋̀̄͒͆͆̔̂͂͐̓̌̒̓̂̏͌̈̌̎̎̅́̍̌̄̈́͂̌̍̅̎̇̎̆́̆̐̈̕͝͠͝͝͠͠͝͝͝­­̡̧̨̧̡̢̫̳͉̖̼͙͉̮̘̣̬̟̖̱̩̩̤͉̠̰̫͔̺̼̙͎̠͉̻͙̫̞̥̟͕͕͇̬̩̳̮͚̥̻̋͜ͅ ̷̛̛̛̛̛̛̋̉̀̿̓̾̿̀̓̑̾̎̄̉͊̈́͗̈́̇̈̐͋̈́̀͒͌͂̒̎͋̆̆̓̒̈́͆̔̑̊́̏͆̏̅͐̈́̔͛̓̚͘̕̚͠͝͝͝͝­­̛̛̛̍͂͗̿̈́͌̽̀̂͗̀͌̀̈́̀̋̓̀̍͂̒͐̌̈̋͛̿̎̎̊̄͆̈́̈́͆̓̈́̽͒̀̔͆̀̋͒͆̀͂̿́͊͛̆̽̓͐̕͘͝͠͝­̆­̡̘̝̣̾͗̍̏̽̾͊̄͆̄̂̇̎͠ ̷̛̛̈́͂͗̏̓̌̇̍̄̇̈̊̊͌̎͐̿͊͗̏̓̄̋̋̅̔̀͋̓̀̓́̾͑̒́́̌̌̿͊̈́̀̀̀̐͌̉̂̅́̃́̚̕̕͝͠͝͝͝͝­­̛̛̈́̊͆̐̆̅̈́̽̅̆͒̓̀͑̇͂̌̃͊̀͌̏̍͗̾̅̈́͊̌̂̎͑̉͆́͐̎̆̾̐̿̅͗̔̈́̔͋̓̔̔̍̕̕̕̚͘͘̚̚͝͠͝­̄­̧̢̨̢̛͕̩̤̞͚͕̺̪͕̖͎̮͙̺̳̻͉̖͙̝̞̬̭̙̯͖͈͚͉̣͎̪̦̹̯͔̭̦͔̣͆̀̒̐̈́̿͑̎̊̒̿͐͑͗̊͜͠͝­͓̥­̢̡̡̢̨̠̤̝͓̭̱̟̫͔̙̣̭͓͙̣̦̬̤͉͍͓̞̣͈͓̙̪̞̦̱̪͉̙̘̹̠̠̹̙̜͕̲̪̺̜̥͙͇͖̜̹͖̱̟͙͜ͅ­̮̰̜­̢̡̲̖̺̲͇̯̫͈̪̳̳̘̩̜̙̗̞͚̰͜ͅ ̷̍̉̓̋̎̒̅̃̆̑́̇̆̉̃͋̀́͗̀̅̈́̇̌͂̈̈̓̄̈́͋͌̀̾̿͐̽̔̓̏̈̌̓̉̐̌͒̃͂̒̊̚͘͘͘̚̚͘̕͝͠͠͝͝­­̛̈̋̃͂͒́̀͑̍͂̋̃͊͒̄̑͒̈́͒͋̇́͒̃̽̔̂̋͛̏͒̇̆́͗̋̈́̋̀͌̒͊̿̃̓̈́͛̌̑͆̾̔͑̃̇̃̏̏̒̇̕͝͠­̄­̨̧̢̨̨̛͎̼̤̩̝̳̞̦͇̬̰̦̥̟̺̤̞̯͓̱̠͖̟̙̺̫̗̠͙̹̼̲̗͚̬̝̙̬̞̒́́̅͛̀͂̓̔̾̂̇̚̚͘̚͜͜­̝̭­̹͔̱͇̞̹̜̗͔͙̼̺̞̜̰̫̟̤ ̴̛̀̌͌̔͒̄͌̏͗͑̓̆̉͌͗́̀̋̉͗̑̃̍͗̈́̈́̈́͆̔̐̄͆̈́̇͌̉͗́̌͋̈̈́͌̃̓̿̿̐̓̏̓̈́͘̚̚̕̕̕͠͠͝͠͝­­͛̐̓͊̀̎̀̄̓͒̇͛́̄̌͒̉̃͛̒̌̋̄̓̄͐̏̂͊̏̔̈̋̇́̄̍̈́͋̿̔͑̓̓̊͐̈́̅̽̔̒̀̽̉́̎͂̂͘̕̚̚͝͝­̕­̢̢̧̢̧͇̣̥͉̥͉̥͓̼̺̺̱̝͚̱͔̫͍͔̦̘̭̖͇̼̞̭͎̤͍̠̼́̃̓̈́̀̽̿͛́̓͆̈́́̆̄̍̃͑͘̕͘͝͝ͅͅͅ­̤̳­̨̨̢̱͚̬̘̞̜̞̥̜̤̙͚̙̳̹̻̝̫͖̟͖̤̗̲̥̲̦̯̮̱͓̳̣̩͜⸸̡̯͘ ̴͓͓̻̙͇̟̯̜̻̠̬̻͑ͅ ̶̧̧̧̢̧̳̌̈́̓͌͐͒̏̉̇̿̅͊̒͝ ̸̰̻͎͇̣͛ ̷̛̳̪̯̰̤̞͇͓̞̼͔͇͑̌̏̋̀̔̔̏͝ ̷͉̖̥̣͈͔̜̬̑͊𝚵̤̠̾𐎚̖̣̟̳̹̒̾𝔁ᕸ̢̣͙̙̎⪴Ⳗ” ̴͓͓̻̙͇̟̯̜̻̠̬̻͑ͅ ̶̧̧̧̢̧̳̌̈́̓͌͐͒̏̉̇̿̅͊̒͝ ̸̰̻͎͇̣͛ ̷̛̳̪̯̰̤̞͇͓̞̼͔͇͑̌̏̋̀̔̔̏͝ ̷͉̖̥̣͈͔̜̬̑͊ “̹̤̎͜𝓢̜̳̅𝕀⎔̟̤̿̾𝙥̨̟̎̕͞🞛⻬͕͡𝓩͉͝🜅𝒻͙𝓚̧̛̩̝̱͖̲̲̌͒⛶̫̑𝙸̔”


There—        ­­            no, that’s not him.               A mother’s final lullaby.  Still               beautiful.                   Not              him.
Another—                   hope torn      from a dying prayer. Still                  warm.     Not                   him.
And then—              
  I inhale—

—and feel it tear through me like lightning.
A grief so profound           I nearly collapse.

I can’t see                     them,                  
            these memories,        
                                        him.


­­“⥶̵̴̼̪̫͙̠̬̜̙̐͒̔͋̕͟҂⩮̬͖͟͞͞⟉⻼̦͍̲͖̝̲ͪ̓̎͝ⴸ̨̠̒̾⧇⧉̵̣͔̠̥̦̣̮̺̜̬̗̥̔͌͟͜”
“­⛒­͕̎͢𝓢̛̛̟̟̽̿🜂⻖̵̡̯͓̳͉͕̦̬̙̞͛͊̀̀́͒͋̓͜h̴̴̶̪̫͍̙̠͖̣ͭͩ̐ͭ͊́̅ͫ͟­̠̦͊͒̉͋͛͟­̸̢̠͍̩̖͕̒̈́̃́̓͢uņ̷̡̮̬͈̘͕̫̘̓̾ͥ̓ͦ̏ͣ͜͟\̵̵̧̛̦̩̲͍̖̪̯̙ͤ̍́͂ͮ͐ͨͦ­͕̟ͫ̊̃ͭ͟­̶̵̧̫͓͍̤̃ͦ͗̒ͯ́̉ \̵̧͎͓̖̭̘̙̪̝̪̬͉̳̃ͬ̂͗̽ͫͧ͊̔ͨͩ̈ͭͦͮ͋̓͌̀̑̉͒̏̕͜͞\̴̷̧̹̳̟̝̇̔͊̒ͮ́́ͤ͊̄ͣͣͬͩ̕͢­­̴̢̡͔͖̗̘̘̩̙͉̉ͥ͗́́̕\̛̠̪̳̲͉͍̻͍͚̣̟̳̯͓̦̩͕̓̅ͭ̔ͮ̒̊ͥ̌̓̿ͮ̀ͫ̀̾̑̀̚͡͡͝ͅ\̦͚̒͑­̘­̴̢̢̼̼͚̱̲͈̠ͣ͐̎͂ͨͫ́ͪ̄̚͜\̷̷̡̢̨͙͉̮̠͓͛̽ͫ͐ͬͥͬ̒̎̓͠\̶̠͍̙̣̣͇̖ͫͩ̌͒ͪ̿ͮ̅̐͜͞­̬̤­̺̇\̴̷̵̡̛̪̦̹͖̠̲͎͖̙̗̮̪͚̯̟͓̞̱̤̤̤ͨ̍ͨ͑̊̄̏ͧ͐̾̑̄ͦͮ̊̇̈͛̋̎ͥ̐ͮͩ͘̚͟͞͡𝙀̠̯­̼̕­̹̗͓⃧̕͜⾁͗͌”
“⧶̵̹̩͎͕̣̹̿̏ͩ⛓̛̼͈̟̦̒ͦ̽𝑴̴̲̻͍̰͝ ̴̝͚́̇̀͗̓͆̉͝͝ ̷̱̠̐̈́̃͛̀̈͗̆͘ ̸̡̪͉̰̼͓͙̻͕̄̀͌͒̐̃̅͐͐͜͝ͅ ̵̬͎̻̺̩͍̤̓͒̍̀̏̽ ̷̢̧̖̝̭̖͚̩͕̥̜̪̓̽🝑⺙̡͕̫͙̻͉̬̾̓͢͞͝⪩̨̺̖̰͐͜­͉̱ͣ”
“ ̵̢̨̻̘̙̜͈̼̮̫̫̙͎̯͍̱͙̭͖̣̝͇͎̌͆̈́͋̃͐̿͑̽̑̂̃̋͋̓̌͑̅̎͒͋̔͑͊̀̓̅̉̓́͒͂͛̾͘͘̕̕͠͝ͅ­­̧̹̱̪͈̲̘͙͈̻͇̜̭̪͉͙͇͉̳̘͍͔ͅͅ ̶́͛̉̽̓̍̓̾̑̉͑̉̽̊͋̊̿͂̿̈̋́̓͆̒̏̅̂͐̓́̂̇̄̀̆̎͐̐̐̐̍̄̈́̔̔͌̏̈́̈́̔̀̀̀̾̒̆́̈͘̚͝͝͝­­͉̪̗͕̠̤̳̰̬͗̾̍̀̍̆́̽͑̽̇̓̒̓̀̓̈̐̽͆̔̑̊́̽̽̾̉̈̌̃̆̍̌͐̑͊̑̊̕̚͘͘͜͠͝͝͝͠͠͝ ̷͕̺̗͎͖͕͚͉̜͕̺͔̮̼̘̺̼̲̦̣̻̓͛̇͐͛́̔̇̾̌̀́̋͛͊̀͗͆̒̈́͆̅́̀̿̀̿̃̋͂̓̓̑̀̄̑̉́̇̕̚͝ͅ­­̡̨̧̧̧̨̢̦̦͍̫͍̲͈̙͔͉͓̖̫̫̗͉̭̝̱̳͔̳͓͇̮̩̭̯͉̤̖̟̳̬̙̹̞̥̬͉̫͙̯͓̩̜̺̤̮̬͙͎̠͎͜ͅͅ­̱­̨̨̹̼̺̖͉͔̼̲̳̪͈̮̱͉̠͖͎̗ ̷̨̢̭̘͖̳̙̳̻̣̪̳̮̝̺͔̼̬̪͚̗̪̗͔̰̩̠̮̥͍̪͇̘̥̜̲̤͔̣͖͐̒͌͑͛̿͌̂̌̏̏̑̇͆̔̾̈́͘͘͜͝ͅͅͅ­­̨̨̧̡̡̥͕̥͖̮̞͓̹̣͉̜̻̙̻̫̖͚̖̮͎̲͇̮͔̮̯̭̪̻̖̬̣̻̲̟͉̖̻̥͕̙̠̣̖̬͉̞͈͕̹͕͉̪͔͖̞͜ͅͅ­͙­̨̢̨̧̡͔̙̬̭̼͈̤͍̻̗̼̭̹͉̹̫̞̭̻̬̮͈̩̘̳ ̸̆͌͗̀̉̅̆̐̓̈́̈̀͒͌͌̽̔̏̀̄̓̽͂̔͂̔͒͑̎̃̎̈́̆̓́̇̿͗͋̑́̓͌̽͆̄̀̈́́͋͂́̀̈́͑͊̒̅́̕̚͝͝͝­­̨̡̢̪͈̹̠͎͎̺͚̻͖̣͎̯͈̳͙̟̗̣̺̟̟̦̫̯͓͖̺̀̓̎̎͜ͅ ̷̛̆̊̆̔̈́̐̀̂̀̓͂̈́̐̈́͒͛͂̑̽̐̐̈́̉̽̓͋̇̀͗̄̑̉͗̃̊͆̓̒̾̑͑͊̂̈́̌͌͗̈́͑̈́̄̃̔͗̊̓͂̐́̕͘͝͠­­̨̞̘̫̟̠͖̲̼̈̐̌͂͊̈́̆͐̿̂̏̇͌̃̽͗̈́̀̌̿̊̍̈́̐̽̎̎̂̈́͌͊̄̉̌͌́́̈́̒̒̄̐͋̾̓̕͘̚̕͠͝͝͝͝ͅ­̜­̢̢̨̡̧̦͙̹̦͕̺̝̝̝̲̱͚͍̹͎̫̗͕̘͉̘̟̰̘̘̪̱̰̻̗̝͕̬̲͕̺̺͕̮̬͕̯͖͔͙̩͙͍̦̮͎̪̮̺͎̬̼ͅ­̦͙­̧̨̧̡̪̮̖̙͔̯̬̻̝͎̗̦̳̳̰̦͇̭͇͎̜̘͙̪̼̘͈͔̭̮̪̜̭̙͈͎̤̭̬͓̯͓͈͔̰͍̜̲̱̼͓͖͉̠̘ͅ ̷́̅͒͋̉͂̾̓̔͑̎͗͆̿̀́͗̊̎̃̎̎̇̓͋̽̑̎͗͐̅̌͊͒̐̎̄̎̇̐̊͑̔̍̊̐̊̏̇̀̃̃̓͊̄́̋͊̐͒̔͘̕͝­­̛͖̹͚͉̲͓͚͔̘̳͎̪̖̟̟̘̣͈͇̫̆͑̿̉̽͋̈́́̌́̈͛̌͂͘͜͠͝j̵̛̛̺̘̳͐̌̀̎̽͋͗͌̓́͌̓̓̀͘̕͝͠­̱­̨̨̨̡̡̢̡̝̭̲̠̹̳̥̺̠̪̱̘̟͎͕̻͇͙̤͖͍̝͈̪͔̜̞̫̠̗̝̙͔̹̝̬͈̗͕̮͙͈͍̩̯̰̙̝̮̳͜͜ͅͅͅͅ­̤̪­̧̢̧̧̢͍̭͈̥̰̲̖̥̺̟̯̖͓͎̦͈͚̼̖͙̟͚̻̖͉̟̩̟̜̠̲͍̜̼̮̙͕͈̺͜͜͜͜-̶̎͂̉̈́̾̇̑̍̓̄̀͝­̉̉͂­̛̈́͑͐̾͐͊̍̅̅͌͑̅̿̂̎̀́̈́̈́̾̆̈́̿̓̅̏̽͑͊̈́̈́̌͆͛̀̅̆̓̒̔̓͛̇̊̆̌͌̈̂̌͒́́̕̕͘͝͠͝͝­̔̑̚̕­̢̛̳͔͍̘̟̪̈̉͊̀̀̍̊͗̿͒̄̈́̈́̂̀̅̈͛͊͒̊̍̀̓́̏̀͊̌̍́͐̑̿̐͒́̆̑̓́̌͊̒͊̚̕͘͘͠͝ͅ­̨͓̲͙̩­̧̧̢̲̬̱̰̜͇̯͙͍̖̪̮̩̦̜̺͓̣͕͙̜̲̘̲͎̲̖͈̥̝͖̪̳͕̖̟̯͚̝̭̪̖̖̞͍̗͕̦͚̯̣̮͎͜ͅͅ­͙̥͇̥̤ͅ­̨̨̧̧̠̟̻̤̗̥̲̹̜̟̺̙̜͇̦͎̙̞̺̦̭͖̬̗ͅ-̵̞̠̩̫̟̜͇̠̓͌͒̾̇̈̿͛̈́̾͛̿̋͘͠͝͝͝͝­̢͔̻̭̠̻͜­̨̡̡̙͈͕͔̥̣̰̭̻̯̯̤̭̭̘͜(̸̛̛̇̏͋͗̈́̀̽̑͒́̐̈́̀̀͐̍̒́̌͒̍͆̊̔͒̂͋̐̚̚̕͘͠͠­̒̇̆̈́̐́̐̂­̛̀͒̂͋̓́̆́͐̆͌͆̃̏̏̆̓͐̉͌̅̄́͒̏̉͋͊͛̾͑̐̏͆̐̆̉͒̃̋̒̎̈́̓͆͑͗̐̒͌̚͘͝͝͝­̊͆͗̅͆̒̏̕̕­̨̨̧̧̪̯͓̺̬̭̣̥͕͔͉̖̳̝̰͔͈̱̞͍̠͇̰̖̜̲̻͇̥̯̝̺͍̭̎̈̏̿̐̇̇̽̉̌̈́̈́́͑̃́̿­̨͖͔͔̰͔̰̖̥̥­̨̡̡͍͖̹͕͉̗̜͕̲̦̪͕̳̗̻͉̖̻͔͍͙̰̼̺̤͙̦̼̼͎̝̲̭̲̙̫͜ͅ)̸̛̿̄͒̃̋̒̓͐͌͘­̋̿́̅̑͋͂͛̒̊͝­̛̛͑̆̔͒̿́̒̈́̌̏̀̃̄́̅̑͑̉̽̃̿͐̎̍̔̀̐̑́͑̿̈̏̓̽̐̃͐̿͗̋̑̉͂̀̉̒͛̕͘͝­̧̮̻̞͖̲̗̟̀̎̔̕­̡̨̧̱̲̰͎̭̠͍͎͈̗̥̼͎̟̻̺̪͈͇̞̲͎̦͈̰͚͉͎̭̮̻͖̫̲̜̪̭͎̬̹ͅ)̷̍̊̆̕͝͝­̃͑̑̌̌̓̀̅̉̎̕̚ͅ­̧̡̧̢̼̩̳̞̥̰̭̖̤̮͈͕̞͇̘͎̠̥̤̥̥̞͓̗͍̥̪̦̙͖̺̘̰̬͈̪͈̬̫͎̠̮̣̯̮͜͜­̡̧͉̳̯̗͙͈͙̫̜͖͜͜­̡̧̧̨̡͇̥̥͈̱̰͚̫̩̭̙̯͓̼̹͕͎͈̗͔̜͈̟̹̻̰͖̥͓͍͕̩̼̮̤̹̟͉̼͇̤̬̲͜ͅ­̝̤͍͇͜ ̴͇͎̘͈̙̫͚̳͋̈́̈́̓͒̕͝ ̸̛̛̛̛͆̇̅͂̔͐̂̓̋̀͌̿͋̇͐̽͛̿̌̀͐͌̄̈́̆̈́̏̆̆̀͆̇̀̈́̿͂̿͗̈́̒̂̈́̓̍͒́́̀̇̿͋͋̾͘̚̚̕͘̚͠­­̧̰̻̜̥͍͓̗̝̳͚̫͙͎̝̭̲͕͖̰̩̱͍̺̣͕̬͔͕̻̙̺̣̞̟̱̬̣̠̆̇̀̍͂̓́̿̓͑̐̑̄͛͑́̒͛̃͘͝͝͠͝ͅ­̤­ ̶̛̛̛̏̈́̽̽͑͋̓̄̓̋̂͋̐́͆͐̿̉̀͛̏̌͊̑̆̽̐̇̉̃̈́͌̀͐́̇̀̓̃͌̋͒͐̽̈́̒́͐̋̐̊̂̓͌͒͘͝͝͝͝͠­­͇̪̹͈͔̝̗̪̣͔̲̯͍̠͗͒̓̿̆̒̏͛̉̈̽̄̏̂̔̍́̽̓͛̀̈͘̕̚̚͜͝͝ͅ ̴̛̯̰͎͂̈̆͐͒͗̔̀̀̂͑̔̂̊͋̓͛̌̏̿͛͗̏͑͌͋̓̊͗͋̅̿́͛́̑̂̀̈͌̈́̋̔͂̄̊̑̈̐̄͐̾͠͝͝͝͠͝͠͠­­̨̡̨̡̡̧̘̻͕̖̲͕̬̞͙͙̤̬͖̯̭̱̜͎̘͉̰̰̤̙̞̩͓͉̟̙̮̭̲͔͓̗͍̭͕͉̪̙̠̺̜̩͉͓͎͚͍̩͍͎̟̗͜ͅ­̤­̡̡̡̬̗̦͉̘̪̤̼̪̖͎̗͓̺͎͕̤̮͖̯̯̥̙̜͈̙̗͎͙̰̬̮͜͜ ̶͇͖̇̍̓͗̈́̋̊̃̏̅͛̂̆͊̔̔̈́̊̽̓̈́̇̉̒͋͂͐͂͒̒͊͑͒̅͋̂͂̀͊̔̈̏͊͛̿̔̓̒͂̒̏̈́͛͘̚̚͠͝͠͠͝͝­­̢̧̲͕̗͎̫͉̥͉͈̩̺̰͔͕̗͓̺̫̳̻͕̤̼̥̫̤̟̣͇͙̥̭̯̬͎̥ ̶̡̧̡̛̛͓͙͔͉̮̟̞̳̞̪̣̘̦̰̬͖͙̆͆̌̎́͐̿͊̿̈́͆̂̐̊̇͆̋͛̊͆͒̆͆̀̏͑̇̎͒̃̀̕̚̚̚͘͜͠͝͝͝ͅ­­̡̧͍̹̤̮̖̩̗͎̜̘͓̯͙̯̞̜̣̦͓̺̜̜͈̣̬͇̹̼̞̩͔̮̝͓̹͎̹͈͔̙̳̣̹̥͜ͅ ̶̡̨̟͚͖͙͚̣̟̭͓̘͇̬̺̪̞̜̙̰͕̼̪̳̟̬͚͙̜̼̪͆̏͐̓͌̑̅͆̀̈́̾͊̀̈̐͆͘ ̸̛̂̄̈́̒̔̈̏̒̉̓̑̽͋̾̑̓̾̎͛̐̓̓̋̓̐̔̈́̄̋͛̂̅̓̓͊͑̈́͗́̊́̈́̈́͗̆̃̏̈́̈́̎̿̉̔̎́̏̏̕͘̕͠͝͝­­̛̤̜͖͓͗͗̿͑̒̽͑̈́̕ ̵̛̓͆̀̒̿͑̄͐̀͗̔̂̃͌̆͛̌̋̃̈́̔̈́̾̐̈́̆̈̊̒̀̏͂̓͌͒̽̈́̿̅͋̇̌̀̽͐̽͗̃̑̇͂̚̚̕̕̚͘͝͝͝͠͝­­̡̧̢̛̛͎̭̭̦͉̳͕̞̪̜̭̖̯͕̹͚̙̰̼̼̥̗̳̮͍̬̓̑̽̄̅̌͒̀̍͛͊͛̍̂́̐̊̐͒͗́̈́͂̒̏͌̍̈́̚͘͜͝͠­̭­̢̢̡̨̢̧̢̡̗̜̜̞̳̲̻̬̼͎̜͕̖̖̠̮̹̺̘̭̝̻̰̘̣̗̞̮̭͚̤̯̭͈̝̗̫̯̮̭̻͕̖̭̭͓̗͉̪͙͉͜ͅ ̶̛̛̿̌́̓̈́́̒͐̈́̽̑̆̉̊̏͑̐̾̊͊̅̒̓͌͐̆̊̌́̏̀̇͐͋͛̍̎̔͐̂͑̀̓́̆͒̏̏̓̿̔͊͗̅̈́͗̕͘̚͝͝͝­­͂͋̃̓̆͒̂̀͊̓͐͐̎̄̍̾̀̽̑̑̊̃͊̆̈́̒͊̈́͑̄͋͛͐̈́̍̊̉̂̽́̒͛͒̍̈̈́̈́͌̇͗͐̓͑̕͘̕̚͘͘͝͠͝͝͠­̈́­̧̡̨͍̳͎̲͚͇̗͕̱̳̻̹̟̻̠̦̫̳̪͈̻̣̺̜͕͚̠̪͕͕̭̻̰̝̪̩̳̱̩̼̲͎̩̦̮̪̮͚͖̳͇̯̥̬̹̣̬͙̐͜­ ̴̢̛̤̫̰̪̹͕͎̘̣̺̟̩͙͓͈̖̻̝̫̏̔̈́͊͌́͗͂̽͗̓͆͑͋̄͑̿̎̋̒͊̇̀͑́́̍͂̄̓̈̑̐̇̈̕͘̚͜͝͝͝ͅ­­̨̡̡̗͈̗͚̺̥̤͓̗͓͎̬̝̠̩͔̩̺̖̜͜͜ ̴̀͋̈́̅̃̓̉̀̓̇͐̈́͂́̏̆͗̒̄͑̾̊̉͋̂̿̆́̅̒̓͗͐͑͂̈́͂͒̀͋̓̀͒͆̔̐́͋́̑̄͒̀͒̕̚̕̚̕͝͝͝͠͠­­̛̜͗̽̋͋̓̈́́̅͐̒̅̀̍̓̉̀̊̓͊̆̀̾̽̆͒͌̅͋̍̽̎̃̌̇͆́͒̑̈́̎̾̇̿̎̈́͌̽͑̍͗̓̀̓̈́͐̕̚̕͠͝͝͝­̟­̨̡̡̧̧̧̨̡̬̭̟͖͉̳͕͇͖̫̺̱̦̥̤̻͉̮̫̥̱͙̲̯̠̫̣̜͖̠̲̝̺̘̦͇̻̼̝̺̝̰̻̬̭͓̦̦͔̻͙̠̙͜ͅ­̲̳­̡̢̡̢̢̡̡̧̡͔̤̪̞͈̼̫̳̺̼͙̝̼͇̳̖̤̖̗̯̜͙̳̮̭͙͍̗͔̠̻̘̻̼̪̯̯̘̤̥͔̗͙͜ͅͅͅ ̷̧̛̣̳̣̮̖͈̠͚̳͉͇̭͇̂̈̈́͂̉̍̔͑̐̓̿̃͑̑̃͒̓͆̋̅͛͗̓͂́̐͒̔̈́͐͐͂̆̆̄͊̐͂̂͗̑͌͒͘̕͠͝͝͝­­̡̡̨̫͎̰̲͇̺̙͈̙͜͜͜ ̷̢̨̡̨͇̠̰̣̺̥̦̳͚͈͔̘̤̱͖̘͉̤͉͚̩̘̲͖̪͍̲̭͇͚̻͎̤̱̠̾̑̾̅̉͛͌̽̋̽̋̄̍̐͗͌̄̈̊̎͑̓̚͠͝­­̢̧̢̧̨̧̼̻͍̼̹̥̰̥̝̩̫̰͚̺͚̟̖̥̻͓͍̟̝̦̭̘̲̟̺̘͖͙̹͇̹͖͎̞̪͚̠͍̣̘̜̜̰̘̭̻̘̜͎͜ͅͅͅͅ­̭­̧̧͚̗̮̬̯͎̼̹̹̗̬͙͓̟̰̠̟͇̩̯̲̰̗̲̯̳̘ͅ ̸͋̐̔͆́̄̌̐̈́̇͋̿̆̎̔̽̈̆͗̏̀̋̂̔̋̆͒́͐͒͐̑͐̆͋͌͐̈́̾̈͋̌̂̈̈́͗̑̂̆̈́̒́̊͛̐̕̕͘͝͝͝͠͠͝­­̛̛̦̻̑̔̿̃́̉̀̄́̇̽́̌̈̀̊̉̎̆̅̏͆͌̓̍̈́̍̎̆́̎͒̆͗̇̽̽͗̉̉͌̓͒̉̓̋͒̓͐̊̅̑̊̾͘̚͠͠͠͝­͕­̡̢̧̢̖͓̪̲̪̻̱̦̘̬̳̯͔̹̤̺̱̜̠͓̟͇͔̼̤̗̗̰͔̲̭̰͎̼͕͖͕͕͚̥̮̲̼͉͜ ̷̛̛̛̛̍̂͌́̍̅͗͋̊̽͑̿̄̇͌̀̎̈́̾̀̐̍̉̎́̈͌̂̏̈́̔̀̍̋̎̀̏̓̏͐̿̀́̾̀̄͆̈̂̒͗̓̚̕̕̕͝͝͝͠­­̡͈͖̦̝͙͓̳̤̰͚̰̭̜̬͓̺̣͉͍̘͍̠̣̞̣̪̯͕̙̓̐͊͜ͅ ̷̨̧̨̙͇̝̙͈̖͉̟͎̲͔̪̱͕̲̦̙̠͇̻͔̲̥̘̤̖͙̰͖͈̀͑̽̀́̃̊̉̀̒̐̔̃̽́͘͜͜ͅ ̴̡̡̢̨̡̛̛̤̲̰̠̣̯̰̜̜̪̮̪̟͓̤͉̳̟̠̝̹̙̜̲̖̾͛̑̓͐͊̎̌̀̄̌͂̓̉̍͒́̈̋̈́̀̌̈́̎͋̽̀̈͘͜͝͠­­̨̡̧̡̧͕͓̣͔̜̗̭̺̹̖̣̩̻̩̜͕͔͔͙͖͕̳̱̺̹͓̝̞͎̟̝͚̦͔̻̣̖̰̰̤̗̮͎̲͕͔̜͜͜͜͜͜ͅͅ ̶͆̉͊̀̒̋̐̎̀͌͒́͗̀̓̋̄̈̓͐̀͛̉̔͂́͑̆͂̽͌̀̀̌̾̑̏̅̆͒̍͐̀͒̈́́̉͛̈́̈́̇̎̾̅̆̄̕͘͝͠͠͝͠͝­­̛̛̤͙͚͎̙̰̯̮̣̳̭̊̓̈́̓̓͌̎̍̂̀͐̀̔͂̑̐̐̓̌̊̄͂̆̉̄̐̂̓͂̊̂͂́̅͊̆̏̈́̒̐͊̔̔͘̚̚̕͝͝͠ͅ­͓­̡̡̟͇̫̣̘̩͈̜͎͍̹̖͍̲͉͉͚̖̞̟̲͚͓̼͚̹͈͙̥͉̮̮̬̙̻͕̱̘͚͉̥̝͜ͅ ̸̨̦͎͎̪͈̺̤͍̼̣̲̗̩̼͙̱̪̰͎̤̘̀̉̆̈́̂̉̅͌̽̾͑̈́͌̎͋͊̆̿̾͌̀̋̀̽̂̈̋̊̑͐͑̽̿̏̈́́̕̚̚͜͜͝­­̲̪̳̬̖̞͓̬͇̺̼͕͓͎̱͉̺͎̼̟̬̩͇̹̞͈ ̶̅̔̽̎͗̎͂̏͊̎́̀͊̽̉̓́̒̐̏̓̐̄͛̔̈́̂͑̓̈́̓̈͋̈́̽̇͆̾̌̍̆͐̎̽̑́͐̌̎͊̌͗͋̀͐̏̓̂͒̒͒͝͝͝­­̡̧̨̨̧̤̥̮̯̲̬̝͎̻̮͈͇̘̮̬̞͓̪̲̱̫̱̤͓̣͉̮̄͐̀͌̔̓̊̈́̅̇̔̀̈́̽̏̉̈̂͛̾̊̓̿̔͑̔̀͘͘͠͝ͅ­̧­̧̨̡̢̡͍̭̥̞͇͕̹̖̱̰̙̤̰̤̝̮̱̭̤͕̹̭̣̭̞̣̼̝͚̠̤͉͉̠͔̹͈̖̳̗̣̥̪̖̱̟̞̳̮͙̺̟͓̠͙̬͍͜­͔̼­̢̨̡̢̨̙̗̱̪͚̫͕̣̩̙͍̹̪̼̣̖̺̭͈̻̩̞̤͙̯̱̞̖̞̠͔͈͜͜ͅ ̷̛̛̉̃͒̀̽͊̅͂̓͗̿̏̽̅́́̈̈́̈́̒̋̇̀͛̄͐̑̑͗̌͛̐̾̂͋͐̽̇̃̋͗̈́͐͋͗̓̄̏́̑͗̐̋̈́̕̕̚͝͝͝͝͝­­̡̡̢̡̨̥͈̮̘̼͇͕̳͔̪̩͕͓̠̪̫̭̫̮̒̈́̃̈͑̋̾̔̀̏́̂̿͂̊̕͜͜͜͝͝ ̵̡̘̹̜̙̙͇̣̰̝̲̲̥̞̮͐̈́̿̍̋͒̃̎̋̽͛͂̌͒̀͗̚͜͜͝͠ ̶̡̨͙̜̝̞͎̜̦̠̟͓͚͔̭̖͎̲̣̳̘̞̩̪͚̅̒̆̈́̈͋͊̓̏͌͗͛̄̈̃̀̈͑͌̇̈̾̆́̅̊̎́̒͆̒̕͜͠͝͠͝͠ͅ­­̢̨̢̧̡̡͎̩̰̩͎̙̮̥̻͎̻̭͔̖̝̦̲̬̘͚̰̯̝̝̱̞̖͔͉͙̬̞̻̹̝̥̯̣͚͓̳̺̯͜ͅ ̴͓͓̻̙͇̟̯̜̻̠̬̻͑ͅ ̶̧̧̧̢̧̳̌̈́̓͌͐͒̏̉̇̿̅͊̒͝ ̸̰̻͎͇̣͛ ̷̛̳̪̯̰̤̞͇͓̞̼͔͇͑̌̏̋̀̔̔̏͝ ̷͉̖̥̣͈͔̜̬̑͊ⴭ̨͉̣̲̟ͦ𝛥̨̡͓͇̘̼̳̘̬͍͉̞̥̎͂͌̿̍҅̎̕”


           Something answers.
           Not a voice.               Not words.              But a cadence I      remember
  not by sound,             but by absence.

A hush beneath the screaming. A tremor through the bones of the sea. It is not calling out. It is waiting—

—because it knew I’d come. Because he remembers, too. Even buried. Even broken.
He remembers
me.


“⫯̵̥̝̰̥̬̎̾🝛͔̳̯̳͚̗̫̜̤̽̓̕𝓒̳̾̒⾇̡̙̰̫̆͢ⰱ͉̬̤̙̠̲⾊̺̟͇̣̓͞ͅ­̘̘̲̞ͣͅ”
“­🜎̻̝̗͖̼̎͘͠⨀̨̝͙̗̲̮͙̰̖̅͛̐̾ͅ🜓̛̛͍̜̪̖͙̾̿͘͞ ̶̡̜̞̤͍̪̖͈̭̝̝̓ͅ ̶̧̩͓͉͕̈́͠ ̴̨̖̥̳͙̤̮̟͔͙̘̼̱̺̰̀ ̴̯͓̞̤̺̘̫̤̼̹̀͊͆̎̐̄̇͂̊́̎̿̏͠ ̵̧̱͓̖͖̝̮̜̯͙̭͓̗̓̇̓͐͒̔̿͘͜͠͝͝ ̶̡̨̣̲̱̈́͂͜ ̴̡̧̱͍̬̹̦͉̑̍́͊̈̂͑̋̇̈̕ ̵̨̨̻͉͕̰͇̩̭̻̹̘͇͎̲̔͑̈́̿̏̿́̀͑͂͒̄̍͘ͅ ̴̢͇͚̭̱̼̗̱͈̣͕̤̞͎͚̳͆̈́͊͂͗ͅⴰ͍̹͕͝𝜲̛͈̞͉̖͉ͣ̒”
“⟊̶̠̝̳͋­̤̳͓̙̼̣͗⣮̢̛͕͇͎͖͉͘͡⣾­̷̣̠̯̖̒͌⾓𝓢̡̛͍̫̬͕̤̦̠̜͇͓̼̦̓͛͐̚͢”
“̛̪̻̫̥̫̓ ̸̛͈̟͉̘̤̱̝͓̥̜͎͇͉͂̓͌̀̊̿͌̏̑̔̿̈̾̐̆͊̄̍́̕͘͜͠͝ ̷̡͓̗̻̠̫͕̬̭̝̫̣̥̰͈͍̱̬͗͒͋̑̈̽̆̈́͒̊̽̇̎̃͊́̈́́̐̈́̈́̅̈̊̔͋͊̍͛̀̒̕̚͝͝͝ ̵̦͖̼̦͎̜̪͙̐́̇͛̽̅̈́̀̏̓̆̐̂̌͗̈͐̊̑̋͂̇͘̕̚̚͝͝͝ ̵̛̹̫̟̝̲͕͗̑̆͌̈́̑̃͌́͆̈͆̒͛͑̐̓͊́̏̒̎̅͘͘̕͘̕͠͝͝ ̷̡̧̡̫̠̻͍͍̱̦̪̗̗͓̟̹̲͚̣̙̥̲͍͊͆̊̉̆͐̔̅͊̿̌̓̓̊̍̑̕͘̚͜ ̷̧̢̦͍̩̳̜̱̖̼͓̱̟͚͍̭͈͔̜̟̮̰̩̣͈̰̭̠̈́̄̿̃̈́̾̈́̌̐̚̚͜͝ ̸̢̛̩̠͓̜̣̱̼̩͕̭̹͓͕̻̘͚̖̲̥͂̋̂͊̓́͆̒̕͠͠ ̶̡̧̡̢̠͚̭̝͔̗͓̱̞̗̮̗̳̥͎̰̞̩̲̺̤̳̯̟̪̖̜̖̦͉̤͚͂͜ͅ ̵̘̲̝̝̝̺̖͎̭͕̭̞̙̙̳͗̉̿̌͂̾̾͆̎̀̀̅͑̋̆́̈͐̂̑͛̕ͅ ̸̢̛̛̛͓̟͙̱̖̝͕͖̬̟̦͈̞͍͓͓̼͈̹̹̏̍̇̂̈́̋̅͌̾̑̆̓͆͗̋́͊͛̉͛̂̚̚ ̸̨̝̯͖͕̭̯̜̱̞̼͖͎̫̗͈̺̤̞̤̥̪͚̫͈̜̰̤̽̑̓̌̊̍̆̈́͐́͒̏̐̊̍̏̈́̐̈̽̂͑̏̀̎͂̀̿̽̏͠͠͝͠͝ͅ­­̫̪̗̜̲͍̥̗̱ ̵̡̢̘̹̦̮̗͉̬̙̱̲̳͔̲̟̻̪̫͕͔͈̭̯̹͇̖̘̳̪̙̥̫̯͖̱͎̀̃͒͊̂͂̽̄̅̈̓͐͒͊́̈́́̀̃̕͠ͅ ̶̢̧̠̙̹̯͕̦͍̭͍͈̬̖̬͙̯̘̫̻̯̮͎̈́̽̀͌̽̉͑̈̚͠ ̸̢̢̯̺̖̗̲̬̲̟͈̲̫̮̰̫̰̜̻̹̫̤̰͐̂͆̓̑͊̅̇̒̍́̈́̒̈́̈́̑́̿̒̚͜ ̸̡̡̡̛͉̥̪̩̝͉͎̖̭̞̘͉̟͕̟͔̪̙̼͓͖̬̯̻̖̰̦͕͔̘̺̍̂̏͋̾̽̍̄̋̈͗̊͛͋͋̄̌̚͘͘͜͠͠'̴͛̆͑̚­­̌̍͐̾̋̀̇͊͌̈͌͗̍̋̒͆́͌̀̉̑̓̀͗͛͛͒̓͆̓͑̆̅͗̈͛̂̊̈́͒̉̎̑̈̒̀̐̿̉̌͂̀͂̐̓̃̊̓͂͂͘͘̕͝­͗­̡̧̧̨̧̝͍̹͖̺͖̙̖̯͚̦͔̘̟͔̞͖̯͍̩͔̭̔͜'̵́̈́̋͌̋̈́͋͌͗̎̎̏̊̈̈̅̀̈̂̇̓̐̄͒̈̿͋̒̆̄̓̊­̕͘­̛͂͂͌̄͗̓̃̀͌̋̑̇́̍̀͑̒̔̿̅͊̈̓̊̄̒̇͒͆̉̃̊̅̈́̓́̅̾͐̽̿̇͛̑͐̊̍̓̂͗̀̀͘̚̕͝͝͝͝͠͠­̛̍̑­̧̨̡̗̭͎̠̟͎̙̯̮̞̌̈́̽̆͆̆͑̈́̽͑̓̇́̀̓̂́̓͌̈̔̎̀̓̍̏̊̈́̅͆̈̎͒̓̉̽̎̏͑̕͘̚͘͝͝͝͠͠­̨̻͍̤­̢͚̰̝̝͚̤͚̩͔͈̭̠̖̳̼͔ͅ;̸̧̨̨̢̨̧̧̧̗̲͕̫̹͉͙̠͚̦̟̞͓̮̝͎̦̞̤̳̼̝̣̩͖̫̱̞͐͜͜ͅ­̢̥͎͎̲­̡̢̡̨̡̧̨̧̨̤̪͙͖̜͎̥̠͎͙̤̟͍̟̻̘͕̹͖̺̻͍̜͉̗̺͚̞̺͇̗̮̗̩̪͎̫̲̻͇̮̣͓̫̫̩͖̮͜ͅ­̜̰̫͔̱̠­̞̯̖̘̠̯̹̦̰̩̦̫̗͈͈͕̼̫̪̲͍̙̗͓̰̦͇̲̹͉̟̞̗͍̠̦͎͕;̸̛̈́͑̉̄̑̀̌́͊̐̏͂̐̑̽̏̑­̀̈́̃̌͊̔͌­̛̄̒̀̊̎͋́̀̔̔͆̽̂̌̐̄̿̾̔̈͗̈́̋́̀̋̑̄͑̓̓̌̾̓̇̐̂͋̊́̏̈́̈̿̏̓̎͊̽̕͘͠͠͝͠͠­͑͛̀̌̆̓͠͝­̡̯̝̪̼̭̦̙͙̯̘̜͍̹͉̱̻͓̣̼͓̳̩̉͛̈́͊̓̂̅̋̋̄̑̋͌̓̆̇͘̚͜͝)̴̆̾̓̈̍̊́̓̌̕̚­̀̋͌͗̇̽̿̚̚­̛̛̛̌͋̿̎̐͒̋͛̊̇͐̈͐̽̍̓̒̒̽̐̔̌̀́̿̒̆̔̒̈́͆͂̐̒͐͊̊͛̆̂͗̈́̓̂̈́̚͘͘͘̚͝͝­̛̌͌́̉̓̀́͘͝­̡̡̨̨̢̨͙͉̤̩̼̞̟̞̬͔̞͓̙̹̼͇͉̥̹̠̲̭̥̭͙̬̱͉̼̻͙̰̬̗̯̈́̀̒̉̓̉̇̚̕͜͜ͅͅ­͍̠͙̜̰̯̩͚͍̯͜­͙͎'̷̎͂̀͋̿̓̍͆̽́͒̏͆́͒͒̎̇͋͒̉͆̉̍̾̃̍̽̇̽͛͋́̐̃̀͊͑͒̕̕̚͘͘͠͝͝͠͝­͋͗̆͋̐͐̎̐̔̒͝͠­̛̛̾̅͐̓͐̀̈͒̅̑̓̍́̓͒̏̃́̔͋̽͗̌͂̿̀̾̀̔̆̓̓͂̋̍̏̍̽̾̆͋̔̈́̚̕̚͠͝͠͝­̛̆̌̍͑̅̍́̾́̚̚͠­̧̡̡̹͖̮͉̥̥̠̥̗̺͖̝͔͎͎̹̬͎̩͔̺͍̬̱͇̹͔͎͍͓̠͚͔̘̣̥̩̼̯̝̫̼̫̫̞͋̆ͅ­̡̧̭̰̮͙̫̣̜̩̻̩ͅͅ­̧̨̨̧̨̡̮̲͍̬̱͓̥̜̲̬͉̳̱͈̩̺̝̣̬̻͕͉͙̹̠͖̝̠͙͎̲͈̟̼͇͓͔̮̫͓͖͜͜ͅ­̧̞̺̲̭͜'̷̄̇̃̈́̈̊̕­̉̃͑̏̉͐̓̇͑̓̃́͌̐̏̒̀̽̎̿̏̄͆̀́́͒̌̓̃̑̇͑̀͛̇̽̂͌͋́̎͘͘͘̕͝͝͠­̛̓̄̀͐̋͑̈̔̃̾̒̒̚̕͝­͊̎̉̉̑̈̾͒̆̓̏͂̄̏̅̿́̀͐͋̎͑̾̉̃͛̈́͒́̓͑̆̾̋̅̎͂͘̕̚̚̕͝͝͝͠͠͝­̡̨͖̯͚̖͎̝͕̩̯̞̫͍̙͗ͅ­̡̡̨͈̟̤̘̙̳̗̖̰̹̯͔͓̗̹̪̝̳̜̭̟͕̰̳͉͙͉̳͍̙͔̲̯̲̗̹̖̱̞̯̖ͅͅͅ­̢̘͉̻͕̭̱̝̦͓̖͓̺̻̜̝͚ͅ­̧̧̢̢͉͖̩̜̻͎͙͔̙̩͙̜̳̜͖̤̖̺͍̝̙͚̻̪͎̞͍̩̙͕̣;̵̒̒̒̓̽̅̆̉̓­̈́̃́̒̊̿͂̊̈́͊̽̿͑̓̽̾̌́͠­̆̑̏͒̎̀͑̄̀̈́̄̍͒̈́̇̋͛̌͐̀̌̉̆̈̃̅̎̐̈́̎̓̊̏͑̽͆̃͘̚͘̕̕̕͝͝­̃͑̃̃́͂̂́̃̓͊́̏̈̽̂͑͑͠͠­̨̨̧̧̨̻̹̪̩̰͔̱̦̘͙͎͕͚̭̻͈͕̯̣͎̫͔̱̯͓̻̩͔͙̙͈̳̜̺̻͉̲̙͜­̨̠̭̯̬͖̳̟̤̞̦̥̜̗̯̦͎̞̬̞̞­̨̻̰͉̙̙̩̳̞͎̟̫͈͉͎̞͔̪͚̗͚͉̗͍̻͇͇͓̮̭̺̫̘̻͓̯̱̫͙̼ͅͅͅ­̧̡͓͇̰͕͖̭͖͓̳̹̣͎̯̹̗̠͚̪̻͜­̨̢̡̖͉͓͚̰̬͎̟̮̠͙̦͕̭̭̭̩̝̮̼̬̯̫͍͕ͅ;̵̋͛̇̃́̅̀͐̎͌͝­̨̘̳̟͖̱̘̜̂̿̈́̋̎͒̉̈́̄̉̓̌͘͜͝­̡̢̧̥͚̹̥̪̰̹̝̮̥̥̫͈̮̖͇̘̞͍͍̮͉̯̘̟͎̭̗̲̱͎̣͓͔͈ͅͅͅ­̢͇͔̖̥̩̮̜̩̦̫̘͕̤;̸̇͆̏̑̔̔͆͒­̛̛̛̎̆̔͌̾̾̇͌̓͑̇̆͌̎̀́̅̄̊͑̑̾̄̄͛̅̈́̎̓̚̕̚͝͝͝͠͝­̛́̎̎̋̍͐̓̾͗́̾͆̀͆͛́̏̈͗͂̚͝͝͝­̰̰̳͇̙̞͈̹̒̅̿̔͛̀̈͗̿͌͂̎̃͑̀̓̅̈̀̐̊̽͊̄͘͘̕͜͠͝͝­̨̢̨͍̯͍̯̬̺̺͈̮̫̫̫͈̥̜͙̙͉͍͜͜͜ͅ­̡̘̹.̷̛̾̉̓͂͊̔̓̿̇̊͒̋́̔̈́̀̎̑̅̎̎̇̿̅́͘͘͝͠͝͝͝­͒̃̅̈́̍̿̿̇̀̈́̒͂̎̀̂̍͛͆̂͛̋͘͘͠͝͝͝­͖͙͍̄͂͒͋̈́͆̏̕͝ͅͅ;̶̛́̍̀́̄̈́̉̎̓̽̂̑̇̅̽͑͗͘̕͝­̒̈̂͊̈́͒̉͛͒̋͗̆̾̃̓͑̀̈́̈́́̆̔̔́̔̚̕͝­̢̫̗̝.̸̈́̈́̋̄͋̆̌͌͋̊͌̍̆̒̑́̽͑̆̒̋͒͆̎̑̃̕͘͘̚­̛̛͊̇̎̄̀̿̇͊͂͌̿̈͑̓̅̅́̾̓̀̆̓̈́͠͝͠͝­̔̃̋̒̈̔̆̋̊̄̈́̇̎̄̾̓͋͆́͑̽͊̋̽̓͊̓̃̎̀͘̕̕͝͝­̀͑̑͋̋̀͂̈̆̂̍́͋͛̔͋̂̀̂̂̽̑̎̔͑͑̋́̚͝­͗̄͛͐͋́̽́͐̇̓̿̂̂̎́̉͌̅̓̍̂̏͆̈́̾̄͛͒̔̾͝͝͝­̡̨͇̣̠͖͍̰̙̰̗̘̺̰̭̘̻̲̱̥͈̎͊̎́͛̏͑͌͝ͅ­̢̧̨̤̫̞̲̲̹͓̙͓̩͓̩͈͍̘͔̫̳̱̻̟͕͕̣͓̥̝̲ͅͅ­̡̧̢̨͖̮͖̺̗̭̟͎̖̟͇̰̦̱̲̙̪̬̘̜̞̤̯͎͜͜ͅͅ­̟,̴̢̧̧̙͉̲̼̻̬͖̜̎̒̊͐̈́̋̏́͂̃͑̂̋̍̒͌͠͝­̧̧̧̭̲̤̬̘̻̗̼̻̠̬͇̦̣͕̗̫̺͕̱͓͚͖̹̳̖̜͜ͅͅ­̡̡̧̧̡̟̳̲̠̖̯̳͈͓̺̲̘̭͕͚͎̼͉͍͙̯̜͚͖͜͜­̡̧̧͍̟̮͈̦̟͇̩̪͔̰̥̩͖̹̥̣̰̤̭͙͉͎̞̟͍̳̹͜͜ͅ­̨̢̡͙͉̩̦͍̭̞̘̣̣̲̻̺̹̳͚̞͈̤̫̳͍̤̤͜ͅͅ­,̸̛̈̈̆̓͂̑̾͗̋͂̊͛́̍̈́͛̅̇͒̈̅̾̍̈́̈́͌̐̓͘͝͝͝­̢̨̧̦̩̯͎͖̟̯͈̯̣̋̉͒̏͝.̶̛̇̍̈́̈́͒́̕͝­̒̋̈́͐͋̀̐̓͆̀͛̈̇̔̅̓͛̌̅͑̒̒̐̒́͛̇͗̋͂̇̍̚̕͠͝­̛̄̑̈́̈͑̔̽̎͐́̍̑̐́̔̍̊̑͐̈́̽̽͘͝͠͝­̞̹̙̖̦̼̜̱͕̝̺̹̅̔͒̆̓̑̀̄͌̄̌̌̋̈́̾̍́̆̎̒͐̃̚̕͜­̦̯̝̬̖̦͈̮̝̟͕̭̻͓͕̳̝̼̯͉̰̘͙̰̬͕͜­̨̨̢̡̢̤̭̣͓͎͇̫͖͉̺̫̼̤͚͎̩̯̺̩͇͎̺̤̳̜͎͍̳̭̻͍͇͜­̨̨̡̠͉͈̩̗̯̙̣̹̩̠̥̻̤͉͉͚͎͍͓͉͜͜­̧̥̪̱̥͍̲̥͇̠̠͓͕̯.̸̛̛͆̏̀͛͛̊̆̇̿͒͐͋̋̎́́͆̀͂̀͠­̡͖̜̰̞̳͉͈̲̜̫͉̼̮̫͎̈́̊̈́͌͒̈́̃̇͝­̧̢̧̨͉̳͕͕̝̳̩̘̼̥̹͙̗̻͎̯͖̦̹͕͖͕̫̞̩̖̘͚̰̰̼̫̣̞͜͜­̡̢͍̭̖͔̹̘̗̗͔͎̩̭̤̗̤̮̺̬̲͓͉̩­̢͍̳͕͖̱,̸̡͙̤̯̭͇̖̟̔̐͒̏̃͊̃̀͒̀̐̒̏̑́͑̔́̾̏̐͑̊̒̓­̥͉͎͇̜̥̘̤͉̩̺̗̩̥̖͓͙̞̖̣̰͜ͅ­̧̫̝͈̹̺͚̘̮̤ͅ.̸̛̎̿̍͐̍͆̉͗̔̆̈́͆̈́̈́̈́͊̂̊̿̽̍̅͗̿͘͝͠͝­̃̀̑̎͗͂̈́͋̿̋̄͐̔̃̒̈́́̑̚͝͠͠­̛̍́͂̋̄̍́͂̏̉̎͊̈́̑̑͐͗̎̒̓̓͋̑͑͋͛͆̓̆̌͛̌̾̿̆̆͂͂̎͘̚͘­̊͗̂̽̇̾͒̈́̀͊̆̾͑͂̉̐̈́̐̈́͝͝­̡̘̲̟͇̹͈̮͉̱͉̘͍͈͕̍͘.̸̢̢̲͇͎͉̤̰̹̪͕̲͉͙̫̰̃̂͂͐́̿͐̓͜­̳̘̙̲͉̣͈̯̳̥͚͚͕͙̱̪̬̪̩̜­̨͉͚͈̣,̴̋̋̿̂̾̔́̌̾̍́̔̍̆́̿̍̑̾̇̈́̔͛̇͆͊̈́̈́͗̋̇̄̈́͘̚̚̚͝­́̑̈́̓̎̂̉̔́̅̏̓̆̍͒̏̿̋͠­̈́͐͌̆́̀̋̔̍͛͊̈́̓̌̂̾͛̒̈̈́̍̅̂̍̅̒̽̂̅̍̿̂̾̆̏̂̒͒̃̾͑̀̎̓̀͝­̟̞̰̘͎̌̄͂̄̔̎́͒̚͘̕͝ͅ­̢̨̡̧̡̨̦̩̣͓̼̠̥̞̳̞̝͍̰̱̹̟̻̬̙̰͖̳̫̹͎̞̮͈̼̱͕͍̪͚̠̬̬̜͙̰̦­̢̢̢̡̨̞̼͉̟͔̱̭͍̫͚̬̬­̣̪̠̠ ̸̡̧̡̟̫̬̲͖̙̯̭͓͚͎͕̳̬̼̭͉̪̹͇͔̭̖̣̬̦̜͕̰͍̰̳͎̗̦͙̣̼͙̻̙̬̤̤̫̩̝͙̹̟̗̳͕̰̅̾̕ͅͅͅͅ­­̡̢͎̩̩̝̜̝̻͕̰̰̙̗͜͜ͅ ̴̛͋͑̈͒̒̋́̓̋͋̒̈̍͗̂̀͌͆̈́́̿̌̿̒́̊̅͐̍̑͊̒̀̊̒͛́̾̿̓̂̐͗̇͒̓͋̃́͂̆̕̕͘͘̕͘͘͘̚͝͠͝­­̛̛̌̌̑̎̾̀̀͗̌̍̎̄̈́͂̔͗̽̈̾̅͊͑̏̄̊͋̽̓́̔̀̎̑̈́̀̽̍́̽̂̑͋̐͒͑͂̉̆̍͆̊̍̒̆̾̀͊̀͘̕̚͘­̓­̢̨̢̧̳̺̖̣̩̺̫̗̹̜̭̤̦̰̘̮͎͚̬̣̫̲̙͖̪͔̖̘̠̖̭͚̺̟̗̬̭̼̘͉̱̏͌͊͐̿͗̐͂̈́͛̆̄̍̉̕͜ͅͅ­͔̻­̧̧̢̜̫͉̜͙̦͕̜̜͕̤̪̰̞͖̟̹̤̭͉̙͉ ̴̛̛̛̌͐̀̽͛̿̀͐͗̉̈́̆̂͛̓̑̐̓͂͛̈̈́̽͌͒̀̈́͆̔̈̅͌̓͌̋͛̏̾́̏͐͋̈́͒͗̅̊̾̍̏̚͘̕͘̕̚̕͠͝͠͝­­̢̛̊̀̀̈̋̀̈́̋̿̂͂͒̄̒̋́̇́̍͒͒̋͊̀̐́̈̏̀̈́͐͑̊̊̃̑͊̅̓̀͋̊͌͆̃̉͊́͋̐̕̕̚̕͘̕͘͠͝͠͠͝­͙­̢̱̜͎̜̫̜̝̦̭̬̺̗͎̲͚̯͚͎͎͉͉̙̙͉͈̞̮̮̮͈̹̭̳̣͉͚̠͖̼̘̥̦̣̮̜̭̰̙̻̞̝̩̬̙͚̻͕͜͜͜ͅͅ­̣̠­̧̧̢̡̧͕̜̯̙̤̟͈͚̙̙̝̖͙̩̦̞͍̪͚̻͍̞̙͈̻͙̙͍̝͈̻͎̺̜̘̳̻̟̗͉͕̙̼͙̮̬͉͚̥̯͚͎͈͜͜ͅͅ­̼̩͉­̡̢̡̢͍̞̣͇͔̞͙̲͈͕̗̻̙̭͔̺̥̬̜͎̻̞̯͎̜͎̠͎̺̻͜͜ ̶̢̡̢̨̨̨̢̨̲̱̲͚̳̦̮̣͉͙̻̘̻̝̞̳̩͉̤̳̭̯͓̻̝̩̘̖̠̰̻̬͓̻͈̠̙̤̤͓̣̯̫͕̲̼̮̖̰̼͙̬̉̏͜͜­­̧̖̻̯͍̩̗͕̱͇̤̯̳̘͈̻͙̗͜ ̴̛͉̻͑͂͋̇̿̐̾̆̾̊̅͐̿͌͛͛͆̈́̈́̈́̍̅̎̾̂̒̿͛̾́̇͛̅͗̂͛͗͗̈́̾̀͊̉̎̊̓̀̐̎̕̚̚̚̚͠͝͝͠͝͝͝­­̢̡̡̨̢͓̜̣͙̯̯̩̳̫̤̙̖͔͚̹̹͍̺͍̙̳̖̲͙̖͓̹̯̪̦̱̭̳͎̪̝̰̤̯̬̯͚͕̰̺̱̗͔̠͉̻͓̜̣̫̞̬͜ͅ­̡­͎͖̣̠͚͕͍̦͔̤̱͔̥̪̳͓͖̺͍̼̗͉̝ͅͅ ̵̨̛̛̮͉̬̜͕̥̜̠̣̺̠̯̬͌͊̂̽̀̉̅̓͆̂̇̈́͑͒́̈̌̑̌͐́̓͆̅̒̍̏̾̾͂͐͛̽̍̐́̈́̈́́̄̀̚͜͠͝͠͝ͅ­­̧̨͔̘̻͈͔̘̞̲͓̟̹͙̼̟̣̫̱̘̰͉̥͎͙̝̞͉̯͈͈̜̺̺̲̫̟͔͖̫͍̠͍͔̰̙̠̯͓̦̫͖̦̖͚ͅ ̸̨̢̡̨̛̻̙̭̝̹̠̣͎͉̥͍̼͍̋̊̄̄͑̈́̀̀̋̈́̓͋̊̐̿̌̀̋͊̈́̒̂͒͆̐̇̿̊̾̽̀̐͊̔̒͑͋̉̔̈̓͝͝͝͠ͅ­­̧̨̢̨̡̡̧̲̙̝͔̥̭̯͈̩̥̣̼̞̟͈̬̙̘̟̻̬͈͎̖͎̱̹̬̯̥͍͖͙̱͚̰̘̳͓̳̪̦̭̹̬̝̮̙̜̫͍͜͜͜͜͜ͅ­͕­̧̫̞͔͎͙̙̦͇̙̞̩͎̰̦͎͔̠͓̲͚̖̖̯̻̜̣̺̠̯̼̩̩̼͖̺̼͖̗͓͓̳͍͚͙̯̝̻̩͖̥̪̙̞͕͖̣̣͜ͅͅͅͅ­̫̮­̠ ̵̛̛̛̍̐͂̇͊͊͗̂͗̒̇̆̔̒̀̉̂͆̂̽̓̒̑̎̓̔́̔͑̆̅͑̐̉̐́̏̇̓̒̐̐͆͛͌̅̎́͗͛̊̍͛̓̑̐̕͝͝͠͝­­̢̼̤͖̯͎̺̙͙͉͓̐̈́̂͑͗̅̆̿̋̅̓͗̂̅̀́́̿̒̀̽͊̈̋͆̂́̎͑́͑͊̂̔͒̀̎̿̀͛̌̐̽͂̄͗̉̚͘͜͠͠͠­ͅ­̢̧̢̭̹̫̝̹͉̣͎͚̙̝͚̬̱͈̪̹̘̙̝̫̜͖̗̻̙͙̦̥͕̘͖̥͚̪͇͙̼̟͉͔̜̙͖̭̦̤̪͔̭̱̯̦̬̙͇̠͔̩͜­̪̞­̢̢̢̡̡̠̣̠̘͚̠̞͓͚̹͉̬̟̥͇͕͉͙̤̹̗̜̙̹͈̟̟̬̣͇̼̠̥͚̤̬̲̭̰̞̳̩̤͇̺̪͔ ̸̛̾́̆̒̈́̊̊̉͌͗̽̾̐̓̈́͌͊̓̃̎̒͛̐͗̅̔̓̒̒͋̀̿̆̆̽͆̈́̈́̾͑̎̿̓̆̐͒̀̑̇̓̆̂̀͂͘̕̕͝͝͝͝͝͝­­̧̪̼̖͕̣̘̤͚̯̤̗̻̹͎̣̲̲̝͒͑͛̀̊̏̆͘ͅͅ ̶̛̟̩̝̌̍̃͆͑͊̆͒̏̋́̽̎̍͗̈́̍͂̀̋̈̓̈̇͒̑́͐̋͂́̎̄̃̀̋̆̌̈́͒́͊͋͛͆̑̆̋̾̉̈́̋͊̂̚͘͝͝͠­­̨̨̡̢̧̧̡̡̢͍̱̩̣̪̜͈͓͕͕̱̮̫̜̼͚͔̘̲̻̣͓͎͔̖̱̪͎͔̖̠͇̹͙͚̩͈̱̼̖͍̥̙͓͎̘̥͈͍͎̻̥̜͜ͅ­͙­̧̡̺̖̪̲̤̜̝̮̟͚̟̮̤̪͕̬͇͚ͅ ̴̢̭͎̫̼̺͎͚̟̙͚̜̠͖̿̂̃͂͑̓̓͌̐̈́͊̊̄̅͑̈́̉͐̊̊̎̋̒̒̓̔͆͐́̑͌̆̒̈́͐̓̉͐́̋͌͋͌͒̄̍͌̕͘͝­­̢̨̨̯̥͓̼̗͎̝̱͇͇͓̥͓̟̤̦̙͔̼̘̘͈̝̣̲̠͉̦͕̤͚̘̖̹͉̼̫͈̦̭̲͓̞̮̭͔͖̠̲͖̞̞̪̣̮̩͜͜͜ͅͅ­͇­̨̢̡̨̡̨̺̱̪͎̩̳̳̭̥͔͖̩̙̞͎͖̱̭͔̼͇̯̠͖̪͇̣̯̖̥̻̙̟͖͈͈͖̪͙͓̻̳̦͔̺͍̗̯͇ͅ ̵̢̛̪̯̟̜̖̫͕̺̲͆́̄̃͑̎̈̋̾͛̆̿̐̈̾̌͂͛̒̓̐̑̉̿̆̅̽̅̓̀͗͛̒̀̑͗̾̈́͒̄̾̂͒͗̈́͛̽͘͘͘͝͝͝­­̨̢̢̧̧̧̮͈͔̤̩̜̠̘̖͉̝̘͈̪̦̝̳͚̖̻̭̻̭̘̮͈͎̰͙̫̠͓͕̥̫̫̟̩̜̬̲̙̮̙̺̦̼̼͕̦̯̙̖͔̪̫͜͜­̻­̧̡̧͇̝͔̰̯͉̹̪̝̲̟̫̠̩̞̥̝͖̟̦̻̹̰͕̼͖̩͇͓͓͙͚̲̠̗͇̖̯͙̼̫̳̫̭̙̻̝̬͈͖̯̫̺̲̺͓̦̦̰͜­̨̭­̧̡̧̧̺̜͎͎̳̫̬̼̰͉̰̱͙̖̰̠͖͎̗͎͓̬̣͈̞͚̭̻͜͜ͅ ̸̡̢̨̨̡̥͈̠͈͙̲̩̣̳̪̜̠̯̮͚͓̣̱̮͚̪̭̫̯͙̖̪̮̩̯̠̝͕̟̰͎͚̘̝̠͔͆̍̈̈́͒͒̌͐̓̓͋͒͜͝͝͝͝͠­­̡̙̫̱̦̞̝̠͜ͅ ̵̢̻̪̙̥̤̮̦͖̣͙̮͊̇̂̂̑͛̏̌̒̀̑́̆̔͑̎̀̀͐̔͗͐͛̅́̀͂͐̔̈̀̔͑̃̒̂̈́̑͂̈̕̕̚̚̚͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅ­­̧̨̧̢̡̡̧̨̡̧̢̨̬͕̦͎̣̞̲̜̜̬͎̫̰͔̫̞̙͈̣̟̟̱̙̘̲̬̜̠͖̦̳͚͇̻̺̜͓̦̳̝̪͎̬̘̺̤͇̠̩͜ͅͅ­͓­̧̧̢̨̡̢͎̼̗̳͉̳̻̯̲̳̰͔̠̪͎̳͓̬̦͓̼̘͍̝̜̖͓̫͔̮̳͇̱͚̪̯͎̲̟̫̪͔͚̱̖͍̩̲̥̰̗̙̼͜͜͜ͅ­̮͚­̧͖͈̪͇̜͉̗̗̠͓̺͈̞̜̬̦̯̘̮̦͜ ̶̛̛̼͛̆̏̾̾̄̅̄͊̆̂̍̂̈́̒̾̑̉͗̽̊̾̑̂͑̅̿͊̒̈́̄̀͂̑͊̈̾̔̽̐̉͗̈̊͛́̈́̋͌̂͊̀̈͋̎̀̚͘̚͝͠­­̢̧̢̢̟̻̼̲͍̘̫̰͎̣̜̣̗̙̞̬̝̮͖̯̹͔̫͙̳͇̤̝̥͕͕͔̦̞̜͍̮̭̗͍͕͙͔̣͈̜̜̠͈͔̼̪̯̖̭̫͜͜ͅͅ­̣­̖̟̭̩̰ ̸̛̛̎̀̾̽̈́͆͗̄̏̀̂̾̄̉̆̊̆͋͒̀̏̆͑̈́́̅̍̓̐̇̈́̋̾̒̓̈̽̍̈́̄̿̈̂̂̿̔̌̓́̊̓͒͊͗̚͘̕͝͝͝͝͝­­̛̀́̐͐̒̆̑̀͑̽̅͋̽̄̓̀̃̾̽͒͛̃̅̈̀̂̉̐̉͋̃̐̋̇̋͊͐̿́̔̓̒̓̑͋̉̀̌͛͆͆͒̐͆͘̚̕̚̕͠͝͝͝­̳­̧̧̢̨̡̡̨̠̙͍̠͉͕͍̺͔̭̲̖̻̻̮̱͎̲͎̤̺͉̪͍̣͇̠̯̮̻̭̗̥̗̦͚̲̙̱̯̟̤̭̱͓̱̯̭͖̺͚̗͜ͅͅͅ­͎̯­̧̡̧̧̧͍͈̤̝̘͇͈̫̺̘̳͖̫̼͉̺̭̝̙͍̥̰̻̻͓̖͉͖͇͚̮̪̳̞͈͔̻̦̹̪̩̣͖͕̯̗͚͎̹̱̭̬͉̱̯͇ͅ­͙̩̯­ ̸̛͗̃͂̉́̍̒̅̅̏̽͒̽̈̈́̊̑̀̽̽͗͋̽̄̈́̌̍̔͒̔̓̉̋̃̃͑͋̔̽͊͂̒̄͑͆̓̓͊̑̽̓̉̄̉̉̍̕̚͝͝͝͠͝­­̧̛̛̟͍̱̪̣̘͍͕̻͔͇͇͕̙͇̪̙̖͎͖͉̞̻͙̈́̊̅̾̽̓̽̾͛̾̓̇͊͂̾̾͊̈́͑̌͐̾̋̔̾̌̿̈́͐́͛̕̕͘͜ͅͅ­̻­̢̧̨̱̤͇̗̮̱̲͔͎̤̙͇̣͖̰̲̠̹̩̙̠̹̤̮̣͖̰̜͎̪̬̻͇̫̙ͅ ̷̧̢̢̨̢̤̲͉̗̭̬̪͚̻̬̠͉͉̳͚͙̳̙̪̪̣̼̮̹͇͈̟̲̗̦̫̖̲̳͉͔̘͉̩͙̫͔͚̭̐̆̋̄͒̊̋̒̓͂̿͠͠͝ͅ­­̢̨̢̡͚̥͕͉̬͕͙̳̭̙̲̗͇̥͎͕̭̘̼̫̰̙̮̤͖͈̠̰͙̲̳͚̙̲̮͚̖̮͖̩̘͍̟͜͜ͅ ̷̧̧̘̞̬̬̣̻͎͈̔̾̒̄̓̃͂̔̊̂̿́̆̕͘ ̸̛̐́̿̉͑́̽͗̓̉̎͗̍̉̀͐̽͊́̉͗̊̏̽̃̉̑̿̾͐͒̍̇̓̆̓̈́́̈̔̿͒̆̈́̀̐̊̀̎̄͛͗̈̂̌̓͛̄̕̕͝͝͠­­̈́̉̒̂̆̅̍̿̈́̓̂͌̊̃̒͐̍̊̈́̇̀̀̍͑͗̉̊͛̄͑́͒̏̓̾̾͋̈́̌̀̐̃̀̌͊̿͑̾̑̚̕͘̕͘̚͘͘͝͝͝͝͝͠͠­͋­̡̩̝͇͖̺̯̹̹̭͎̙̜̺̠̖̜̙͈̫̖̩͎͔̺͙̯̭̙̮̬̆̉͊͋͜͝ͅͅ ̴͓͓̻̙͇̟̯̜̻̠̬̻͑ͅ ̶̧̧̧̢̧̳̌̈́̓͌͐͒̏̉̇̿̅͊̒͝ ̸̰̻͎͇̣͛ ̷̛̳̪̯̰̤̞͇͓̞̼͔͇͑̌̏̋̀̔̔̏͝ ̷͉̖̥̣͈͔̜̬̑͊⾐̷̠̰̠̹́̚͢ ̸͖͓̲͚̰̱̟͕̈́̆̅̅́̏̌̀͌̍̀̾̕ ̷̧̢̙̻͎̥͈̘̻͎̜͔͔͎̭̞̔͗͌̅̂̽̃̇̂͠͝ ̵̰͐̃͗͑̈́͂̽̂̈́͠͝͝͠ ̴̨̨̛͎̘̻͈͎̱̬́̆̽͛͒̒̏̽̋̐̑͝͝ ̵̥̘̹̹̐̾̒̓ͅ ̶̘̬̗̓͌́̽̈̃̀̐̆̓̆͆̕̕͠”


My body            

              
           collapses to its  

      knees—




             not in surrender—    
just in                            



              fatigue.


  But I feel his hand.

Buried beneath             crushed coral       and brittle fragments      of digested        memories.

I                          
reach.


“­𝒀̸̮͇̟̞͎̘̥̦̙̟̪̓𝕆͘𝕌Ǵ̴̢̢̛̖̯̤̱͕̲̯̟𝒜̶̥͓͇͎̳̻̞̜͓͑𝓥𝔼ʜ̵𝐢𝕄𝔼𝕍𝓔𝖱𝙔𝐓̶ℍ𝕀𝓝𝙶!—𝐀𝓑̡­𝓞𝓓𝒀̴𝓣̴𝓗𝖆𝙏𝓒𝔸𝓃𝓢𝕋𝖆𝓨!—𝓛OO̷̹̘̗̗̰𝕂𝒜𝕋ᴹ𝔼𝒍𝕆𝕆𝓚A𝙏𝙈𝑬!—𝕐͘𝗈𝐔’ᴿ𝕰H𝔼𝕽𝔼!—𝙁𝓘𝓝𝔄𝓛𝓛𝕐ʜᴇ𝕣­𝐞!—𝕔𝕆𝕄𝕖̵͔̲̳͇͎͉̗͉̜̎𝓑𝐀𝐂ᴋ—𝑊𝔼𝓬𝔸𝓃𝓑𝕖𝕎ʜ𝔬𝓛𝐄!”


She                doesn’­t understand. She              never                   will.
That I am whole                  because I remember who I chose                            instead of her.

She thrashes.
                       The ocean buckles.                
                                        ­­    I am almost crushed              
     beneath her weight.
My ribs strain.
                                      My lungs ache.
                                                           ­  My vision fractures.
                 She shrieks.


“𝒀̶̳͕̪̙̻̟̙͓̽𝓞̶̱̲̱̠̘̳̳̥̥̎𝕌̷̘̠̠̘̥̥̬̦͛G̶̘̟̞̯̟̮̫̩̥̋͜𝒜̶̠͙̟̮­̫̥̳͇̬͑𝓥̵̛̟̟̳̬͖͖͋𝔼̷̢̛̲̱̥̬̱̝̱̦𝕋̴̳͚̠͎̰̳̯̹̳̕𝕙̵̼̫̙̻̬͂𝕖̷̛͖̙̪̖̰̝̰̰̕𝙈̷̢̜̥­̙̙̤̪̽𝕎𝓘𝕟𝓖𝒮!𝓨̸͔̖̘̥͉̞͒𝖮̴̛̞̥̻̱̤̒𝕌̵̢̢̖̙̤͈̙̞̎𝓁̸͖̥̯̥̲̜̯̿𝓔̵̤̮̬͖͉͎͍͍̐𝓣̶̨͍­̫͓̱̞̩̩̏𝓣̴͔̠̳̫̰̝̪͉̱͘𝕙͘𝒆̷̡̛̼̮̤͕̤̠͈̼̓𝕞̶̢̛̲̜̲̰̮̘̜̹̾𝔽𝓛𝕐fᖇ𝐎𝐌𝕐ᴼ𝕌𝓡𝕒𝙍𝓜𝓢—̶̳­͖̯̺̬̳̦͖̮̋𝓐𝙉𝔻̸͍̝̯̬̼̖̲̦̼̽𝓨̷̪̮̞͎̳̲̜̲̓𝓞̶̼̯͚̠̘̠̫̐𝓤̴̛̘͓͚̤̱̟̓𝔾̴̟͓̪͙̟̰͕̔𝔸­̸̢̳̤͕̳̳̦͒𝔙̷̛̪̩̘̩̗̰͌𝓔̴̲̪̗̮̪̺͇͖̠̚𝕄̶͈̰̼̳̝̞̠͎͗𝔼̶̢̡͈̫̪̩̱̞̈𝓝𝓞̶̡̢̨̹̫̬͙͖̎­𝕋𝕙𝒊̶̼̥̘̖͙̥͝𝒩𝔾!”


Her                      voice                  
   ­   breaks.
                           Almost breaks…

                                me.


“𝓘̴͚͚͇͉̜̖̅̐̒𝓗̷̛̳͍̖­̻̟̓𝓐̶̲̞̯̗̦͇̅𝕍𝒆𝙉𝕆𝓢𝓚𝕀𝒩!—𝓝𝒪𝓗𝓐𝓝𝕕𝕊ᴛᴏʰ𝓞𝕝𝔻ʸ𝕆𝕌W𝙄𝕋𝓗!—𝓝𝕆𝓕𝓐𝓒𝔼—𝓝𝕆𝓛𝓘𝓟𝕊ᴛᴏ𝓚𝕀𝕊𝕊𝓨𝕆­𝕌!—𝓘H̵𝓐𝖁𝕖𝒪𝓝𝕃𝓨𝕎𝓐𝕍𝑬𝕊—𝒜𝓝𝓓𝓨𝕆𝕌—𝒴𝕆𝕌𝓗𝕆𝕃𝔻𝕙𝕀𝕄.—𝙃𝕀𝙈!”


She’s jealous                  of what she herself                   refused to accept. I can’t             transform an                            unwilling soul.
                              As much      as she     claims       to want the     result,                                            
she refuses to                  trust,
                                      ­        to share control,
to let me share with her,                                         the process.
It’s not that I withheld the opportunity,      
                                              ­she was simply unwilling.
Transformation is a divine experience.
                                         It can be neither         forced from nor       forced upon.              

                But she cares not                                 for reasons, cares not

for mutual agreement.                   She just wants

                                      to take,

but she cannot take    

                                                  from me.


                              I can’t let her                            distract me    
with                this
                                 ­                   slander.


I­ close my hands
around him.                    


“⩌̴̹̼̮̟̑̕͘ⴷ̹͛⎔͇̻̾͢𝛫̼̞͙̾̚⫯̴̛̦̪̗͈̇͒ ̸̢̨̢̢̡͖͓̩̜̘̣͓̫̗̺̺̲̬̗̠̤͎͙̜̩̙͓͚͇͔͕̱̜͉̭̬̳͍̩̪̝͔̓̍̿̈́̀́́͌̔̆̂͆̑̐̂̍̔̕̚͜͜ͅ­̧̟͎̦̤͙̼͚̫̙̯̤͖ ̶͙͕͕̮͒̂̊̾͌̒̚ ̴̨͓̘̗̣͎̭̣̣̼͇̱͕̠͑̈́̀̑̋̅̀̀̈́́̕͘͜ ̶͔̝̭̞͍̯̠͔̫̯̭͉͔̘̲̥̯̗̙͔̜̙͈̻̞̥̫̖̮͕̖̔̀̐͋͆͗͂͂͒̂̀̒̃̎͋̂̿͛̍͗̋̀̊̈͌͝͠͠͠͠͠ͅͅ­̢̮̦̩̝̠̝̯͕̞͈̰͎̫̰͈̘̹͎̯̭͜ͅ ̷̛̘͔͎̘̻̦̄̓͌͊̓̅͒̾̈́̔̈́͑́̾̈̎̀̈́̅͛̾̾̂̿̇̈͐̍̄̌̄̒̉̐̽̏̊͑̀̅̄́͒̽́͘̚͘̕͘͠͝͝͝͝͠ͅ­̢̧̢̡̢̢̧̳̲͎̞͚̥̺͎̰̘̩͉͔͔̟̞̜̼̻̠͍͖̻̳͔̩͈͚̟̳̻̜̻̗͇̦̼͔͚͔̯̭̜͚̺͜͜ͅͅ ̶̨̨̨̢̢̢̛̼̤̦̫̹̰͙̼͉̠̩̤̦̲͖̹̙̩̗͙͉̜̟̱̝̤̦̝̘̭̹͈̋͋̾̍̅̀̂͑̅̊̍̂̉̒̈́̎̃̽̇̊̍̕͜͝ͅ­̨̨̢̤̙̻̦̟̝̼̫̦͍̬̹͚̭̬̲͇̙̲͉͍̮̤͇͉͈̦͜ ̸̋͛̑͂͗̑͋̌̓̓̂̈́͐̓̈́͑̂͛͌͋̒̈̓̅̈́͐̾̏̈́̀̈́̈́̅̓̓͒͐̉̃̔̔̈́͑͗̀̇̈́̀̍̕͘͘̚̕͘̚͜͝͝͠͝͠͠͠­̧̧̧̡̢̰̺̙̤͕͚̬̗̞̰̮̼̰̺̦̲̻̖͖̳͖̱̹͖̱̱͚͍̯̰̱͚̳̝̙̳̘̖̮͚̹̫̪̯̖̰͖͉̻̣̥̫̲̮̜͔̤͚͜ͅ­̨͎̰̯̺̯͙̺͔̳̹ ̴̢̯̳̟̟͓̝̞̺͓͖̗̦̜̹̖́͊̒̒͒̓̉̒̔̔̀̌͋̄̎̅̑̄̈́͗͗͂͌̾̆̿͆̋̀̄̀̽̌̃̉̔̍̀͋͊̽̾͗̾͘̕̚͝­̨̨̨̙̖̻̺̬͓̮͔̜͉̹͎̞̹̜̥̩̖̩̰̤̥͔̣̺̰̞̘̮͜͜ ̴̧̨̠̭̻̳͎̣̥̮̰̻̳͖̰͎͖̬͂̈́̀͂͌̀̅͐̃̋͗̃́̇̄͂͋̽̉̅̈́̐̀̿̆͋̐̇̇͑̈́͗̃̾̊̀̔̿̕͘̚̚͘͜͠͝­̨̧̜͕͕̯͓͙͓̟̤͕͍͈̹̺͚̖̳͍̲͓̦̹͖͙͖̰̳̠̗̖͙̭̻̺̘͇͖̖̘̖͓̳̺̗͜ ̶͚̪̖̍͒̓̽̿̈́̊̀̉͋̿́̓̈̈́̏̓̓̔̀̄̃̊̅͂̈́̂̊̀̄͆̋̓̍͑͌͒̊̇̉͑̈́̅̋͊̔̔̔͆͋͐̈́̍͂̕̕͜͠͠͝͝­̢̧̨̢̗̠̤̞̙̯̜̫̜̞̗̼͔͎̼͍̺̜̻̭̟̤̘̥̗̺̮̟͉̗͖͍̳̩̮͖̤̠̙̮̭̦̭̱͜ͅͅ ̷̢̛̬̌́̎̂̒̑̅̿͗̆̽̋̄̾̒̿̈̊̊̋̓͌̀̅̇̏̍͆͛́̐̃̎͗̊͌̃̃̌̋̑̀͌̅̀͗̒̉͐̅́͗̂͋̈̂͛̏̆͝͠­̢̨̡̢̨̡̢̧̢̡̡̧̨̨͚͍͓͔͚̟͙̤͕̖̦͓̥̳͖̻̭͓͓̩̖̪̘͕̭̰̘̬͙͍̫͚̠̬̜̻̼̫̩͖̠̳̩͖̫̯͓̗͍̳͜­̧͚͙̻̩̥͕̗̗̺ ̸̢̨̛̮̺̺͖̗̣͚̺͛̊̑͑͋͊̂̓́͊̌͗̀́͋̂̇̆̑̒̑́̈̌̈͂̇̓̐̿̀̀̄̕͘͘͘̚͠ ̷̧̢̨̛̛͖̤͔̳̦̣̤͕̜̳̬̣̙̪̱̳̭̹͓̦͇̥͊͒́͋̋̂̾͑̋͋̔͋̈̇̃͒̓̔͌͑̉̈̃͐̋͐̆̅͘̚͜͜͜͝͠͝ͅ­̡͉͇͎̞͉̱̮͓͕͍͉͜ ̸̡̛͙͙̩̩͓̫̀̐̍̒̋́̈́̈́̃̀͌̌̋̑͐̔͊̔͂͆̓͌͊̈́͆͒̌͂̃̏̎̾̏̅͊͘͘͘͜͝͠͝ ̵̢̨̛̛̮̤̦͈̣͙͕̪̭͎͎̰͙̤̝̲͙̬̬͕͕͍̝̬̦́̀̃̈́̅̈̓̆́́̈́͆͋̋̆́͆̈́̅̐̈̆͒̽́͒̂̂́͊͜͝͠͝͝­̧̢̧̧̳̟͉̻̯̘̬̖͖͔͕̺̦̮̪ ̴͍̪̩͈͋̐̉̆̒͋͗̌͂̍̀̓̊̄̈̑̎̄̓́̎̓̂̑͐̈́͐̈́̉͋͊͝͝ ̵̛̣̤̓͑̎̈́̈́̉̃̋͊́́̒͌͒̃̏̃̒̄͐̔͌͋͛̕͝͠͠ ̴̡̛̱̟͉̬͇̼̺̖̀̒̓͂̀̾̆̂̄̇̇̓̍́̉̅͋̎͑̏̌̓̍͊̋̓̂̀̎̈́͒̑̂̀͊͛̈́̇́́̓͆̇͘͘͘͘͝͠͝͝͝͠͝­̧̖̩̪͇͓̟̞̣̘̥̱͖̱̝̟̝͓̤͙͔̼͉̲̥̫̪̠͉̳̩̺̱̯̫͜͜͜ͅ ̵̛͐̆̆̅͛̀͛̂̎̐̍̃̎̋͗̍́̑͂͌̓̔̽̀̾̀̑̽͛͂͗̈̾̈͑͛̔͊͛̀̈́̅̐̔̈́͂̓̀̈́̂͆͌̓̃͋̀̓̀͊̕͝͠͠­̨̨̧̢̡̡̢̰͇͈͙͉̗̠͍̮͖͕̟̘͚͙͔̱̞̜̰͉͉̗̫̦̼̖͖̙͔̗͍̟̲̘͎̪͍̺̦̝͚̹̥̹̈͗̽̎̾̿̏̍̽̕͜ͅͅ­̧͔̣͕̮͙̺̱ͅ ̶͕̭̪̥̗̼̑̑̍̍̈́́̅̐͊̔̓͑͊̅͑̃̀̐͗̔͆̆͊̍͂͛̔͘͠ ̷̧̞̻̯͉̭̖͕̳̖̼̭̭͈͓̹͉̯̩͉̤̀̀̾̿͌̽̌̈́͛͝͠ͅͅ ̶̡̡̡̢̢̞̱͓̭͓̖̠̳̹̬͍͖͇̟̤͙̤͓̳̞̳͍̘̙̯̦̪̗̮͙͖͎̮̞̜͈̝͕͉̱͚͇̪̘͓̖̹͈͛̎̄͛̅̃͜͝͝ͅͅ­̡̡̢̬͓͚͍̦͙̮̘̖̱̪̻̼̳ͅ ̷̧̛̯͉̺͓̤͕̗̘̗̣̝͎͉͉͉͑̇̊̑͛͂̓̇͗̃͗̌́̈́̎̒̋̽̊̒̐͒́̈́͂̀͘̕̕̕͠͝͠ ̸̧̢̢̛̲̣̦̫͈̝̰̭͍̹̗̻̝̲̾̒̀̆̐̾͌̊̂̇̋͂̉͊̈́̒̋̈́̾͛̆͐̋̇̍̆͐̔̆͊̀̀̈́̽̐̊̎̈̕͠͝͠͝͝͝ͅ­̡̧̨̢̢̠̹̙̻̯̯̼̤̰̼̰͇̱̲̮̮̜̻̮͈ ̵̨̢͍̩͚̥̯̫̹̥̻̝͖̪̻͚̖́͊͒̋̃̾̅͌̏̓̽̀̅͌͑̂̽͑́̂̊́̕̕̕͝͝͝͠ ̸̧͔̜̪̱̦͉͚̪̙̹̝̙̝͓̰̝͈͗͋̅̐̋̂̐̆̐́̓̿͐̄̄̽̒͒̍͆̄͐̓̋̉̌̇̿̈́͑̐̈́̄̽̆̽͊͆̎͘͝͝͝͝͠͠­̡̧̧̧̡̨̢̨̧̧̘̣̳͙̣̤̳̤̠̞͚̘̦̫̤͉̦͙̩̮̲̰̼̼̣͚̼̬̹͙̻͚̰̞͕̟͎͉̫̺̜̟͎̝͖͔̰͇̪͉͜ ̸̧̗̪͎̲̲͓̤̳̤̝̟̥̜̗̜͎̆͆́͂́̉̍͐̀̎̏̈́̊̊̆̃̈́̉̏͋̇̒̌̕͜͝ͅ ̶̨̧̧̢̪̩̟̤̰̦̺̰̳̟̼̟̟̹̰̳̝̞̫̮̜͕̝̝͖̻̙͈̜͉̘͔̲̲̯̝̜̗̘͇̗̭̮̞̺̬͖̱̯͉̯̑̔͂͆͊̀͜ͅͅ­̨̦̝̭͎̱̞̳̯̺͇̮͜ ̶̨̡̨̨̛̛̰͎͇̳̫̲͇̥̠̤̭̟̰̥͙͈̲͇̺͔͚̭̦͕͒̏͑̈̒̑̋͋́͛͂̽̔̂̊̇̊̏̄̽͛͑̽̉̓̚̚̕̚͘͠͝͝͝­̺͙̩̺̦̣̝̺͔̳̮̜͉̭̝̟͚̮͎͈͔̜͍ ̴̡̡̧̛̞̬̻̘̟̤̘̪͉̱̥̥̫͇͍̦͚̦͚̮̹̓̀̈́̓́͆̈́̇̉̿́̉͗̐͊̀̀̈́͂̑̈́̄̍̊͌̄̔̅̕͜͜͝ͅ ̸̛̹̆̎̓̽́̋̍̅͗̑̐̔̐́̄͋͊̊͒͐̂͂̆̍͊̓̊̈͂̑̾̏͆̈́̀̋̓̆̎̂̂͑͗̿́̅̉̏̉͛̍̊͘͘͘̕̚̕̚͘͠͝­̡̨̧̡̢̠̰̘͙̲̖͚͓̪̗̙͔̗̬̳̗̬͓̫̮̻̰̣̭̘̖͓̳̲͖̜̖̯̜̯̖̥͈̝͇͓͈͓̟̟͔̯̰̯̭̲̝͖̥͖͕̼͜ ̶̛̛̛͑̈́̿̆̂͌͒͒͊̅̋̋̅̈̑̒͋̓̌̎̔̀̂͛̐̍̇͋̔̈́̎̌̈̈́̈͐͑̍̆̓͋͑̿͛͂̑̊͌̑͐̎̚͘̕͘̕̕̚̚͝͠­̛̛͇̖̉̽͑̅́͒̐̋̈́ ̴̡̨̛͈̗̤͍̙̲͔̫̹͙̜̩̠̯͖̟̫̺̹̞̻͔̪̦̗̠̭̹͍̺̲͕̦̙̼̈́̅͌̾͛̔̅̋̈́͗̌͒̾͋̊̈́̾̄̍͌̌̃̕͝͝͝­̖̹͜ ̸̢̨̨̦̬̮̫̰̜͈͙̞͚̪͓͓̣͓̻̠̪̝̥̮̘̲̥̬̺͉͉̯̘͕̹͍̾͐̓̏͌̈̓͂̚͜ͅͅ ̷̢̛̛͔̼̺͖̘͚͉͂̑̋̎̓̅̏͒̈́͌̊̒̂͌̄̓̋́̈́́̍́͗̈́͌͗̑̈́̊̋̇̀͗̉̄̆̎͆͑̉̿̐̄̈́̈̆̑͘̕̕̕̚͘͝­̡̼̼͉̮̩̱̹̖͙̩̜͓̬̯̘̹̝̼̝̟͔̯̮̫̞̫͚̻̰̳͎̻̬̠̪͈ ̶̢̥͎̩͕̟̰̞͖͎̰̥̻͕͙̞̲̙̯͓̟̯̩̏͂͗͌̃͒̂̎̔̀̍͊̓̎̐̊͛͌̈́͐̾́̚̕͝͝͠ ̷̧̡̨̬̙̤̭̪͉͉̩̲̟̪̼̩̰̣̦͎̦͍͚̣͙̬̺̹̝̘̜̬́͜ͅͅ ̷̨̢̳̻̮͇̹̠̙͓̠̞̭̲͙̩̘̪̙͉̟̙̭̺̫̫̰̠͚̞͉̤̙͖͉̺̹̭̥̔̏̑̀̽̏͑̄̈́̆̄̅͑͂̋̀́̒̆͒̚̕͜͝͝­̡̨͍͈͚̹̪̞̬̜̥̤̯̫̞̯̯̥̗̯̜̗̥͍͖̞̻͓̝̜͔̖͚͍̻̗̼͜͜ ̶̛̛͕̱̻͕̱̠̂̆͗͗̆̈́̓̊͆̒̐͑̉͊͌͌̐̊̽͂̿̿͑͂̊̑͋̿̂̆̍͐͗̈́͒͒͒̾̌̎͌̑̔̾̋̽͐̒̀̈́͌̕͘͜͠͠­̨̡̨̢̣̘̩̭̟̣̠̥̬̟̳̬̲̝̲̼̻̯̻̞͔̗̺̹̮͇̝̣̜͔̹̠̙͓̬̩͕͚̪̰͎̱̝̝̠͈͕̺̭͓̹̭̫̲̣̹͔̠͜͜ͅ­͚̦̗͙̰͓ͅ ̴̡̪̮̘̟̱̪̗̱̖̩̹̗̘̯̖̘̮͒́̔̍̊̐́̊̍͑̑͊͑̂͑͊͂̆̌̎̈́̏̄̉̏́̂̍̇͛̍͗́͆͜͜͜͜͠ͅͅ ̶̧̧̢̡̢̛͓͚̤̳̹̣͕̙͔̣̟̝̮̟͛̇͂͒̈́̈́̇͐̾̇̈́̑͗̿̒̿̍̏͆͛̔̐̀̀́́̀͆͋̑́̃̀̇͗͘̚͝͝͠͠͝ͅͅ­̧̡̤̦̼̗̣̜͍̭̫̗̩̫̠̱͍̻̼̘̳͕̞̺͇̲͖̣̭̱̬̣̞̳̟̜͙̣͓͓̘̺͇̠̺̱̩̹̟̗͍̥ͅ ̵̛̛͚͕̝͎̯̱̪͚̼̜̠̍̓̂̔͆̈͗̏̉̉̅̈́̀̇̄̔̇̐͆̀́̐̊͗͒̓͂̏̆́̈́̑̀́́̈́̎̊̍͑̓͛͋͒̉̕͘͠͝͝͠­̭̭͇̦̮̟̳̣̳͙̟̮̮̹̩̪͜ ̸̢̢̡̨̢̡̡̬̠̗̟̮̩̗̗͇̮͚̹͈̜̪͙͍͈̘̮̥̻̜͕͓̦̞̥̯̯̠͎͚̮̭̦̩͛̅͂̒͛̾̿͋̎̏̍͗̈́̂͋̓̈̇͘ͅ­̨̱̦͓̗̬̪͕̬̹̤̰͈̙̜ ̵̡̨͕͇͕͎͕̲͔̯̹͍̩̲͍̥̜͓̰͍̼̥̙͔͇̺͉̜͍̫͙̝͖̯̙͆͛̒̀̈́̌́̎̇̍͐̄͝͠𐎿̃­̷̯̮̙͚̤̬̩͇̪” “⻗̵̴̢̬̞̳̆̽𝙃⩣̻̤̖͓̳̬̼ͧ͐𝕗̰̟̦͍͇̪̲͕͎̍̒̍̽̾͘͠Ɐ̛̤̘̐̕ͅ⛶̷̢̞̫͈̣̳̻̦̙͈̬̰̓⟁͕͓̳͂­­̦̍͊” “⛘̲̼͕͚̞͍̿̅̄̔🝛̸̬̟̯͍̪͝𝒎̨̘̬̬̲̫̯̘͊̎̍͜͡⥤̢̻̹͔̠̏̽𝙐̢͚̼̞̪̬̟̟͎͕̩̏̎͌̕͢͢⍊͖̪̾͂­­̪̣” “⟍̸̨̬̖̹͎̙̜̔͗͟͢͢⩘̛̠̤̘͕̩̜̾̎ͅ𝑾̴̛͔̰̩͕̬̘̣̫̤̠͕̳͒̍̾̒̓͡𝕔⻡̨̲̘͇̤̰̜͉̿̚͜͠͡⧷͇̓­­̮” “⨅̸̴̡̛̹̳̘̻̰͍̪̮̥͖̣̠̋͛͊̀͌͒̊͌̑͑̓̃̾̑̾̈́̃̊͗̿̏̀̌̈́̾̋̑̎̽̉̆̏̃̐͋̀̓́͆͘͢͟͜͢͝͠­­̧̨̡̡̧̪̲̭̯̱̭͉̙̼͉̳͇̖̯͚̤͈̘̞̯͎̠͇̱̲͚̦̜̦͍̱̞̖͙̈́̀͂̌͒̃̃̀̍̓̄͊͂̔͌͊͐͑́̚̕͜͝͝͠͠­­̨͕̤͚̠̮̟͍͚̟͓.̴̤̯̖̜͓͚̙̫̜̬̻͓̣̹̟̰̞͉̺̪̘̼͉̣͇͉̻̼̈̀̌̂̉͂̀̔̏̊̋͑͐̀̇͊͐͋͘͘͜͝͝­̧­̡̨͈̭̰͉͙̙͈̤͉͜.̸́̓̾̈́̒̇̋͛̏̇̒͛̆͗̈́̒͆̀̈́͛̂̏̊̌̿̋͊̏̆́͆̐̏̀̏̂͆͐͘̚͘̕͘̕̚͝͝͝͝­̒̕­̢̢̡̜̬̞͍̫̩͔̞̪͍̫̭͔͉̬̩͕̠͍̜̰̳͎͍͙̭͉̲̯̘̥̥̘͕̫̦̥̼̉́̃̅̓̍̀̆̍̒̚͜.̵̿̑̇̈́̉̓͆­̈́̿̓­̡̢̡͉͍͔̺̭͇̝͔̲̘̗̰͖̟̺̘̖̼̜͈̤̗̣̭̩̥̼̮̗̲̦̱͖͍̟̖̪̻̣̼̬̭̍ͅͅ.̶̛̑̈́͐͂̏͌͛͘̕͝­̻̰̥ͅ­̡̡̢̧͍̗̩̩͙̹̤̖̖͔̗̮̗̙̦͕̮͓͚̦̳̟͚̳̫͖̝̗̱̰͈͎̣̬̗̜̲͓͖̖̦̜͖̖ͅͅͅ.̷̇̈́͐͐̚͠͠­̈́̀͆̔͝­̨̢̢̧̜̩̮̻̗͈̩̖̳̩͔̟͚̬̱̬̙̖͊̂̈̽̾͑͒̇͌̌̑̃̈́͜͝͝.̴̖̍͆͌̈͋̈́̑̔͒̈̐̄̃̇̉̚͘͝­͔̳̜͎͈̗­̡̧̨̨̯̭̱̫̝͔̘͔̥̯̲̞̫͕̤͖̘̦͉̟͈̹̣͎͎͚̟͓̲̙̯̺̗͔̦̪̭͍͜͜͜ͅͅ-̸̄́͛̋͋̀̌̊͝­̛̀̽̔̄̕͝­̨̺͙͉̺̫̝͚̩̞͍̪̰̭̘̆̽̀͋̉̋́͗͑͌͊́͋̏̑̆͗́͐́̀̈́̍̅̆̓̂̔̈́̈́̇͌͛̈̚̕̚͘͘͘͠͝­̧̨̯͓̩̱̣.­̴̨̧̧̨̢͍͕̪̲̖̹͓͔̥̮͍͇̳̪͉͍̙̦̜͖̠͈̠̱̻̤̰͕̭̱̘̳̹̪́̉̔̽͐͑̿͒̍͊̍̋͆͒͘ͅ­̻̯͖̞͉̳̭̗͙­̧̟̣̮̘̟-̶̏̃̾̌̒͒̀͂̐͑͋̈̏̐̃̐́͒̉̈́͆̿̆̇̀̃̎̂̈́̿͋̎́͗̏̊͋̀̽͋͘̕̚͘͘͝͝­̢̫̰̳̙̟͉͉̯̙­̡̡͈̬̜̜͔͔͇̞̼̪̙͍̻̝̭̼͔,̷̧̢̛̩͉̫̦̩̗̮̬̤̟̺̙͔̙̠̌̈̒͌̎̌͂͑́̌̂͌̃͝ͅ­̻̯͍̪͙,̶͗̐̃͌­̨̧̢͔̼͈̲̼͖̘͎̥̫̞̬͚͈̰̣̗̙̩͇̯̦̇̔̈̔̋͐͂̓̾̃̽̽̊̓̎̅̽̈̄̿̌͛͑̋͘͝͝ͅ­̫͈̺͇̖̭̜̘̣̳,̷­̛̛̛̮̝̮̣͇̥̩͙̯̠̖͐̏̈́͂̒̀͌̾̑͒̃̂̈́̒͒͌̆̏̔͐̍́̏̆́͌̆̚̕͘̚̕̕̚͝͝͝͠­͇͔ ̴̡̢̧̡̨̮̳̼͓̙͕͕̖͖̯̼͓̻̺̟̭͈͖͓̺̦̬̳͉̰̬̼̫̘͙̮̜̪̺̱̈́̃̂͜ͅ ̵̨̨̧̨̛̻͈͖͍͖̞̦̟̜̙̻̲̱͕̼̪͇̰̰̗̪͇̻̪͔̲̠̜͉̝̤̪͉̞̗̝͙̬̰͙͓̬̭̰̗̣͈̅͌̽̽̏͋͋̎̕͜͜ͅ­­̧̮͓ ̶̨̧̛̟̝̠̦̩̘̞͖̫͎̞͙̦͇͚͔̣͎̝̝̯̮͚̪͈͉̞̖̞͔͈̳͔̞̺̺̝̳̍̿̎̒̐͐͗̄̏͆̐̾̿̒̏̾̓̄̈́̿̓͘͘­­̨̨̥̼̹̩̩̠̯̥̙͚̪̦̤̮͍̪̪̥͜ͅ ̶̢̧̢̛̛̪͍̹̼͖͖͔͇͈̗̯͓̬͙̟̟͔̟̔̆̌̓̈́̄̎͗̎̐̃̓́̄̊̆̆̽̅͐͑̽̈̔͊̓̋̇̀̐̑̀̇̈́͗̎̐̑̕̚͝­­̨̡̢̧̢̞̠̦̼̮̣͔̮͉̼͇̼̦͚̼͎̮̥͚̜̙͇̟͈̱̗͚͖̩̫͎͉̖̠͚ ̴̧̡̛̲̻̻̩͙͈̻̠̼̥̫̹̺̲͚̖̲̬͕̱̹͓̥̮̙̠̳̟̗͈̓̌̀̈́̒̎͗̌̏̃͐͑̈͌̉̓̇̏̽̑̓̏̃̒̌̂͘͘͜͜͝­­̡̧̢͇̫̯̥̪͔̲̟̪̻̪̜͎͖̜̟͕͜ ̵̧̢̛̳̺̼̭̺̟͙̜̱̱̥͍̭̳̩͙͈̮̻̩͙̥̮͉̏́̃̔͋̍̓͂́͒͋̓̍̿͐̑̓́͐͆̔̔̀̂̀̍̀͋̊́̿̚͘̕͘͝ͅ­­̨̥̰̮̝̩͇͍̯̻͈͉̞̞̫̟̬̮̘ ̷̢̧̧̡̤̮͖̺̟̰̗̱͉̞̩̜̗͖͔̖̺̘̗̻̭̦̳̯͙̱͓̹̼̲̹̦̖̟̬̹̙̭͉̹̜̱̮̦̠̞̩̽̀̉̉̾͜͜͠ͅ­̱̱ͅ­ ̷͓͙̯̞̲̥̐̒̂̆͊̓̈́̀̽̋̓̎͛͆̀̀̈́̕̕͠ ̸̟̦̬̬̈́̌͆̉̎̅̍̎̌̔̾̉̿̇͑̄̿̋̑͐̑̈́̐͑̇̅̒̏͌̚͝͝͠͝ ̶̨̲͚̙͔̓͌͐̈́͆̌̎͂̅́͗́̐̈̈́͂́̐͋̌̒͋̾̈́̈́͊͒̇̅́̓̅̓̀̌͒͂́͗̽͆̕̚͝ ̵̨̢̧̫̝͈͍̦̫̪̬̹̮̻̩̙̲̝̠̭̺̹́̒̌͗̑͌͒̐̃̃̑́̿̽̀̈́̇̋͛̈́̒̊̃̔̿̃̏̀̓̈̑̍͘̕̕̚̚͠͠͝͠͠­­̡̧̥̘̭̫̘̰̲̯͔̲̰͚̞̖͕̻̻̝̥͙̬̱̬̬̩̲̦ͅ ̷̢̡̟͇̝͎͓͎̜̣̮̘̗̙̞̱̼̙͍̝̳̺̣̼̫̳̩̮̱̗͚̮͙̺̼̜̤͇̀̏̊͛́̎̌̏̅̎̒̔͂̿̐͗̈́͗̅̂̅̽̿̚̕ͅ­­͈̠̜̩͙̫̻̹̮̘̞͎̜͍̬̺̙͕ ̵̡̧̛̯̻͇̦̤͒̀͆̈́̈́̈́̉͆̉̀́̒̀͆̅̂͑̐̓̈́͆̍̓͊̿͒̔̎̂̊̎͒͌̃͂͗̇̈́̆̓̀̀̄̔̅̍́̂̕̚̕͝͝͝ͅ­­̨̡̧̢̮̺͍̯̺̲̺͔͚̬̬̙͓̭͍̲͓̘̟̬̦̣͓̮͚̪͓͚̖̩̻̩̬͚͜ͅ ̴̧̧͕͍͇͉̠̮̖͇̳̳̩̞̦͍̦͔͇̮͕̥̮̳̻̥̗̱̫̼̹̖͉͙̞̞̹̼̌̄̅͜͜ ̵̧̢̡̡̛̰̱̟͈̠̲̟̦͋͋̍̌̏̃̂̓̋̑̾͑̓̀̍̔̊͐̎͂̆͊͆͝͠͝⛑̷̰̖̺͙̜̬͙̔̕”


          ­                           I grip
Death's  memories                   
  to my chest.

They

                    burn.

Each one flays a truth across my spine.

He trusted me.                                  
                           ­                                                He did not forget me.
                                          He forgot himself.
His memories,                         they are                  almost                too much       too beautiful          for me to bear.
They are not just                             his memories alone,                      
                                    ­­                               they are
entwined        with
my soul.


“⫫̼̖̲ͤ̍𝕂͎̯̘̥͇̻͖̠̳ͦ̎̕ͅ⩝̷̵̢̗̪͙͍̯̪̙̘̳͈͂̔̐͜͜͝” “⻠̢̯̖̘̺̍͞ͅ𝘳̢̛̹͎͉͕̹̮̘̝̲̣̩̜̟̾̍̋̕͢͡ ̸͕̜̅́̓̃̃͛̄̃̈́͒̓̀̅͛̅̅̉̔̀̓͂̾̈́̈̾̐̇̓͂͂͒̌͘͠ ̸̨̩̮͔̦͈̘̤͖̭̬̹̼͓̖͕͉̱̿͑̈́̀͂̐͌̚ ̵̻̝͉͖̖̰͆͐̈̂̓̐͋̕͝ ̷̢̨͓̞͓͕̣̼̠̲̬̠̜̱͚͍̰̬̩̼̪͙͙̟̦̪̠͇̻̹̜͔̖͇̜̭̠̝͎̞̬̪̉͒͋̎̈́̄ͅ ̴̧̭̖̩̫̟̮̺͓̪͍̰͔̔̏͂͑̾̀̉͆̓̑̄͛͜͠͠ͅ ̵̢̧̢̢̧̛͇̫̘͚͓̮̱̥̺͎͖̜̦̗̦̼͚͔̼̩̟̙̞̩͚͍̺̙̣̰̋͆̑͗͂̅̓̇͗̇͊̓̇̋͜͠ͅ ̷̨̛̛̼̤̠̼̺̬͎̪̤̞̻̤̈́̄̓̓͗̀̓̇̍̄̐̈̃̓̌͗͛́̑̔͒́͝͝͝͝͝͠ ̸̡̦̝͓̯̭̖͓̹̻͍̥͍̟͐͐̈́̂̾͆͊̿͒̔̾̅͂͆̓́̿̓́̔̊͛͌͛͑͛͌̂̈́̎͌͠ ̵̢̨̧̢̛̛͙̻̳̰̟͕͖̪̖̲͉̖̩̟̔̉̊̆̂͌͌̓͗̅͒͂̉͗ ̴̨̡̢͓̳̠̩̪̤̪̞̮̹̹̲͉̠̤̱͓̯̯̞̘̟̭̲̇̈̀͝ ̶̢̱̱͔͕͓̮͈̜̦͔͎͖̤̰̗̯̂̍͋̈́̑̈́̈̄͛̅̿̈̂̆̌̋͑͂̑́̌̍̊̈́̑͐̀́̋́͐̔͆͒̌͑̂͗̌͜͠ͅͅ ̷̡̡̨̨̡̡̛̲̩̼̰̳̺̬̻̼̩͔̱̣̣̬̥͓͚̼̝̩̮̬͈̥͕̜̖̼̮͉̦͐͌̿̄̄͋́̂̂̋̽̽̋͐̓͒̉̈́͆̊̕͘͝͝ͅ­­̨̠͓̼ ̶̝͍̲̥̞͕̯̫̭̫̇̑̈́̊̋̀̄͆̈́̋̈͜ ̶̘̹̘͔̞̤͈̟̭̮̺̖̼͖̥̿̾͊̇̈́̈́͋͌͛͋̂͆̃́͒͊̋̒̚͘͘͠ͅ ̴͖͚̭͔̣͈̖͖̤̪̤̳̲̱̳̙͇̞̜̙̞͎̩̭̘̪̠̰͇͖̗͔̲͇͐̋͐́̓͑̉̑́̍̈́̀͂̈́̅̈́̈̑̿̕͝ ̷̢̡̨̡̛̩̭̯̥͎͉̭̲̭͙͔͉̙̹̮̖̘̪̬̣͔̙̻̘̤̽̄͒͂̒̾̔̐̎́̇̓̍͛̽̂̀̀̈́̃̀̀̐̏̎͌̓̅͋̐͜͝͠ ̷̡̛̩̖̹͖͈̘͔̩͍̙̻͙̩̮̩̞͓͔͎̖̺̭̈́̎̅̉͐̆̓͋͐́̑͒̉͊̄̓̈́̀̄͋̑̉̋͗̎͆̕̚͜ͅ ̸̢̨̛̯̳͈̭͈̱̦̫̼͖͎̱͕͇̞̭͕̼͇͙̣̟̠͉̙͐̇̏̍̋͂͛̐̏͋̃͌́͊̿͒̚͘̕̚͜͠͝ͅ ̷̨̡̧͍̝̬̫͚͔͖͇̯̙̱̻͍͓̖͍̘͉͚̺͇̲͚͓͚̺͉̟̮̲͕͓͓͒͂̅̀̆͂̉̎͋͂͋̓̿̒͛͛͒̐̇̿̕͜͜͝ͅ ̸̧̨̢̛̱͍̫̬͖̥̜̘̘̮̳͕͖͓̲̜̼̜̤̞̪̜̄́̿̂̍͊̒̀̂̏̂̐͒͗̒̒͑̄̓͒̈́͛̉̊̓̄̍̉͝͝͝ͅ ̴̢̣͎͈̥̱̟̂̏̽͋̍̈́͋͑̄͛͊͂͌̚͘̚͝ ̶̭̩͉̳̖̳̯̲̘̦͔̝̪͔̫̳̰͎̘̣͙͎̑̾͌ ̶̧̨̩̥͚̝͔̝̼̙̟̙̤͍͚̞̭̮̭̈́̈́̄͛͒͒̈̓͌̅̓̈́̂͌̋͐͌̓̓́̔̽̏̈́̔̋̈́͑̇̾̀̈̈́̔͊̂͗̓̌̃̐̕͜͠͠­­̪̺̻̬̺̩̥̠̞̗͉̝̟̤̜͚̻̞̼̫ ̶̧͍̘̠̬̮̘͖̰̖͔͙̼̯͎̹́̒̽̈́͌̑̒̒̀͑͗̉́̈̀̽̒̄͜ ̴̛̛̩̻̭̞̭̹͕̣̌́͂̅̈̃̌́̆̐̾̈́͗̈̇̒̑̅̏͒̋̍̄͑̍͆͒̓̀̎̄́̊͊̉̀̚͘͘͘ ̸̡̢̡̨̧̛̥̱̬̗̭̜̘̣̹̭͇̳͍͍̓͋̽̽͌̄̈́̐͊̒́́̇̌͝ͅ ̴̲̩̱͓̻͔̩̟̻͉̜̠̲̭̖̳̻͈͖͐̇͘͜͝ͅ ̶̧̡̛͓̗̭͇͓̮̫̪̘̹̯͎͍͚͙͇̼̙̦̟̺͎̲̲͔̫̯̪̠̻̒̽́̑̌̏̈́͊̓͒̈̋̽̑̎͒͊͑̅̎͐͛̓̒͋̑̇̕͝ͅͅ­­̨͔̲̣̦̣͉̱͜ ̸̨̨̦̬͓̰̦̟͈̦̑̽̇̔̄͒̈́̅̄̄̕̕ ̵̡̡̼͖͕̣͇̳͔̝͖̮̺̮̩̥̯͉̣̜͕͈͇̻͈̘̹͔͈͚͓̏͐̃̈͑̀̇̐̍͒̊̍̅̀̾̿̇̽̾́͛ ̴̧̝̼̠͔̬͍̺͇̮͇͚̞̪̺̭͕̱̻̱͎͆̓̀́̋̀̄͂̅͛͗̏̎̈́̄̈̓͂̿̈́̃̒̍̇̊̉̽̓̍̽̈̄̏̅̍̑̓͘̚̚͝͠͝­­̟̘̙̙̘̦̟̗͖̠ ̵̢͖̫̻̤̽̿̈̾̊̊̇̊̃̈́̊͐̇̈̓͘ ̸̨̡̡͚͖̦̙̘͔͈͉̜̙̻̫͚̻̼̼͚͓͇̬̰̤̽̿̉̏͒̇̈́͑͂̈͐̈̄̈́̃̇̌̓͊̔͛̕̚͜͜͠ͅ ̴̨̧̨̢̡̢̧̜͙̥̩̹̗̦͚͎͖̖̝̼͍͍̺͕̩͖̰̹͇̹͓͔͙̺͕̜̓̑̔͗̓̍͌͊͋͋̅̍̿̽̒͑͝͝ ̴̧̧̨̛̯̪̫͖͈͉͈͙͎͈̝̗̩̗͕͖̞͙͔̃̏̄̊̿̑̀̏̿͐͌̑͒̎̽́̓̒̀̀̾͌͊͘͝𝓩̛͔̼̘̬̗͍̠̲͎̤̐͆̽͞­­̸̼̮̦̪͔̐̓͡͝ͅ” “⍿̡̮̹̘̣̗͂͘̕̕𝑬̶̨̞̯̤̩̣̰̠͕̝͚͚̜̐̎͞͝ͅ⥸̛̬̜̲̐̚𝙸̻̺͚̦̙͓̻̒ͅ ̴̛̮̰̠̬̉͌̔́̓͗͋̄̉̈́͒́̍͛̋̉͂̽̒̃̆̌̏̀̂͒̌̃̎̈́̿̐̔̓̅͗̄̈́̃̀͂͋̄͛̔̃͑̏̐̕͘̚͝͝͝͠͝͝­­̧̨̢̧͓͍̞̯̹̲͙̤̜̘̜͎̣̟̝̙̤̘̘̦̮̭̥̺̟̘̤̲͇̖͙̞̤̣̣̜͚̦̩͇͇̼̰̣͜͜ͅͅͅ𝙜̸̜̖̘̩̟̥̐̕͟­⨃­” “.̶̧̨̢̢͕̩͇͇̗̫̼̦͓̝̮̾͛̈̋̌̉͑́̓̆̔̇̄̕̚̚͠.̶̛̿̈̿̅́͐͗̈̓͂͊̉͂̀̐̎̓̀͛̇̿̓́̚͘̕͝­­̢̢̡̧̗̱̻̗̭̙̞̣̤͕̮̦̺͈̞͍̹̼̟̹͕̥̤̦̻̮͙̣̗̜̭̪̜̽͌́̓̿̽͒͛̀̈́̑̑̿̌͒̀͜.̴͂͆̾̾͋̿̍͑­͂­̢̨̠̖̜̱̰͓̟͓̰̞̻̩̜̯̤̟͙̯͔͕̳̲͎̮̘̘̗̮̳̼͓̟͓̭͙͙̂͌̈́̂̅̈̃̐̌̄̂̆͊̈́̓͗̃͐̌͑̿͘͝ͅ.­̶́­̡̧̼̠̯͍͕͖̝̼̜̳̠̘͈͓̮̺̟̞̹̝̘̰̞̭͉͓̝̜̖̔̋̐̓̇̚ͅ,̶͙͇̞̖͓̗̥̼͛́̍̿͒̀͛́̊́̀̈́͒͠­̡͙͜­̢̨͚̪̮̙̜̘͓͓̺͔̞͎͎̘̦͚̥͎͉̝̯̬͜ͅ,̸̒͒̾̀͋̑̈́̈́̓͊̂͆̎͋̑͊̆́̎̓͊̏͌̍̄̽̅̌̄͑̾͘͠­̧͎̅̒­̢̦͕̜̥̜̪̜͕̯̩͇͍͎͉̜.̵̧̛̛͎̰̤̤̙̪̳̣̣̙̞͎͕̻̖͒̍̊͒̔̍̿͗͂͂͜͜-̷̅̈̓̈͌̽̿͆͛̊­̉́͑̀̈­̧͈͈̩̠̳̬̝̱͚͇̞̘͔̭̰͔̣̙̞̖̮͓̜̼͔̲̯̫̺͖͖̬͍͇̞̜̟̝̳͕͖͙̀-̵̿̇͑͌́̌̿̽͆́̍̍̚­̉̈́̿́̏̔­̗̗̦̟̤̳̟̤̓̽̅͊͑̀͗̽̈́̇̋̊̈́̚͘͝͝͝ͅ-̷̾̀̾̈́̎͊͊̌́̔̽͂̐̌̎̂̿̂̾̃̾̌͗̋͋͘͘͠͝­̽̀̉́̚͠͝­̲̃̔̈́̀̃̃̇̿̑̌̐͘-̶̓̓̏̂̓̈́̐͗͒̃̓̎̉̔̌̽̒͊̎̐̏̾̓͒̀̌͑͂̈́̇͒̉̓͗̇̌̂̇͂̈͠͝­̨̫͓̳̥̩̟̥­̧̡̡͕̼͇̮̯͔̜̯̠̰̭͉̘͕̼̣̭̮͍͕̥̻͓͙̻̥̳̤-̸̛̏̌̉̉̔̑͑̀̀͊̇̑̓́͆̈́̀̓̚̚͝͠­̈́̐̈̌̍̀̿̍͂­̢̡̨̧̢̮͖̣̱͇̼̲̯̟̫̰̯̭̮͚̤̠̬̠̘̠̝͎̝̘̞͖̩̬̗͚̤̋̿́͜ͅ-̴̌͆̀̅̊̏̋̄̈́̚͝­̄͊̄̈́̍̓̑̆͘͠­̨̧̨̢̛̳̦͉͙͎͈̼͚͔̬͚̗̬̲̦̙͖̜̳̩͙̦̹̞̞̙̗̻͉̙̂̆͜͠-̴̙̹̙̄̈́͌̈́̈͗̾͛̕͝­̧̠̜̗̯̣̳̮̩͚̮­̧̠͍̙̞͔̖͓̜͕͖̰̼͎͎̹͈̖̤-̸̌̅̋̒́͗͂̒͂̋̀͆̔͊̓̾̀͌́͗̾͛́͛̋̏̋̚̕͝͠͠­̛̍̄̑̀̌̈́̄̑́̉͠­̨̢̡̨̧͓͈̲̝̝̟̳̥̯̤͕̮̙͈̱͙͖̮͕̘̹͙̖͓̰͍̗͇̬̯̯̭͓̔̉͜͜͝͠-̵̏̒̒͋̓̚­̇͋̑͌͒̈́́̇́̇̏̚͝­̡̧̧̢̛̛̠͙̰̟͎̯̻͓͖̜͖̭͚̊͗̈̂̌́̅̽̀̎̚͜͝͠-̸̛͌͂͂̿̄̍̎̾͑̈̂̎̈́̕͝­̐̅̀͐̾̈́̅̉͂̎̃̏̚͝­̨̲̜̱̣̞̘̥̪̮͓͍̩̪͉̰͇͈͖̯̘̘͉̪̲̱͉̗̹͉̮̆̑̆̐͆̊͐́̿̿̿̏̆͑́̃̆̚͝­͕̠-̶̽̀̿͒͒͒͌͐̅͝͠­̡̡̨̜̙̰̰̭͇̻͙̜̱̣̮̯͖̻̲͖͓͖̰͇̬̪̥͋̎̅̓͐͝͝-̸̟̣͇̤͎̦̙̠̞̥̒̃͝­̡̡͎̣̳̹̣̝͙̹̗̜̥̝̤ͅ­̨͙̩̺̳̣̟̬̪̣̬͇̮̮̞͙͜ͅ-̷̛͐̍̃̋͌́̿̾̂͛͊͌͛͊̄̈́̽̏̍͋̊̉̃̕͘̚͠­́̾͊́̓́̀̆͂͆̆̓̇͑͘͘͠­̡̱̤͈̱̫̰̩̻̯͔̳̥͚-̵̛̗̣̜̿͌͂̑͌̍̋̏̉̐̋̅̀͑̀̃̈́̊͋̏̂̿͂̍̌̇͝­̹̱̦͔̭͈̖̦̼̟̰̜͇͔͈̹̩̙­̡̨̬̖̞͈̻͚̝̳̘͙͇̦͈̻͉̱͎̞͙̙͕ͅ-̵̛̊͌͗̔̋̿͑͒͋̽̄͊̎̑̉́̚͝͠­̠̱̲̱̼͑̉̊̍̍̓̎̏̓̚͘͘͝͝­̧̧̡̧̢͙͎͕̰͔͖̺͕͔̖͈̜̦̰̼̙̟͍̤̖̱̠̥̣̲̥̰̦̟͙̼ͅ-̵̑̒͊́̚͝­̛̆̐̑̋͊̃̓̐͂́́͂̓̍̕̕͘̚̕­̩̤̼̯̗̃̇̐̓̊̑̈́̀̉̇͂̅̇̒̌͆͆́̔̚̚͜ͅ-̴̒̆͊̓͌̍̂̂̎̃͛̇͘͝­̈́̃̈́̏͗̽͒̈́͑̿͐̿̊̀̃̑͋̎̍̐̕­̧̡̡̡̺̖̝̯͈͉̩͔̻͇̖̞̤̝̪̺͔̗̞͎̲̜̘͙͉̓̀̒̇̐̀̐́̈͛͜͜͝͠­-̶̛̛̛̂̇͛̊͂̈́́̓̿̊̏̉͆̚͝͝͠­̡̧̣͔͙̣̟͈̪͚͚͚͔͎̝̝̭̟̼͖̂͘-̵͋͌̀͑̅͗̈́́̓̉̀͊̎̋̐̕͝͝­̢̡̡̨̱͇̤̱̘͎͍̙̤̦̜̬͚̳̣̳̜̂ͅ­̨̮̗͓̙͖̫̰͚͓̠-̴̛̛̲̱̤̫͂̈́̄̊̃̿̓͂̐̉͌̇̽͊͊̉͑̏̈͘͝­̢̡͖͚͓̣̝͚̙̣̦͈̺̳̺̫̩͇-̸̾̍̊̇­̤͇̲̳̈́̈̓͌̌͂͗̍́̚͠͝-̷̡̜̘̱͎̟̼̭͖̥͓͎̼̇̍̒̎̃͑͛͐͝­̜̪̲̰̭-̵̃̄̎͗̎̔̀̽̐̽̈̒̅̓̓̄̉̕­̡̙̙̩͉̱͊̔̒̽̔̅̔̓̈́̾̀͌͛̍̍̊̍̕͝-̶͐̌͋͒̾̑̀͆̍̾̕͘­̱̖͒̌̏̔̄̍̓̏͊̽̎͊̐̌̅͒͊̍͂̅̆̕͠͠­̨̢̭͈̘͓̺͕̗͚̪̗̗̩̪̤͙̭͍͔͖̗̗̞̥̟̭͇̘̟̺̗̳̫͙̼̼̱­🜮𝒔̸͇̦͎̖̟͎̼̍͂̽̏” “̨̝̞̙̬̱͚̳̗̯ͦ͘͠🝉ⳡ̨̨̛̫̘͈̗̰̲̙̻̩̺̳̘͍͈͎̼̄͐ͩ̚͢͜͜ͅ𝓐̡̛̼̺̣̬̪̠̫̄̔ͅ” “⫻̢̫̱͈̮͓̦͖̤̜̰̤͎̹͉̜̖͙̿̿͐͋̾͜𝓋̴̤̦̲̘̜̺͠𝔊̛̲̤̖͕̠̲̖̼̤̼̝̞͊̔̓̽͢ͅ” “ ̷̧̰̝͔̟̳̳͍͉̯̠̺̅͜͠ ̶̧̨̛͇͍͇̻̾̇͛̈́͊͊̌̔͐̈̕͘͠ ̸̺̗̯̺̳̳͔̹̱͚͈̹̮̱̱͂̈́̏́̒̈̂͐̂̑̿̾͑̽̕͜ͅ ̴̤̤͇̘̘͙̀́͋͛͛͘͝͠ ̷̛̝̰̪̩̬̙̖̈́͋̉̆̒͌̄̌̓̌́̽͐̕͠͠ ̶̛̙̻̖̯̎͆ͅ ̷̳̄̈́̐͒̇͗͠ ̷̮̳̈́̈́̈́̎͗̇̓͑̕̚͠ ̴͔̯͇̌͋͗͊͂̈́͒͑̉́̀́̽̏̂̎̚ ̷̨͖͖͖̪̝͔̲̙̘̆̔̋ ̴̛̳̺̯̒̐̇̇̈́͐͌͛̀̈̊̈́̌͘͝͝ ̷̡̢̨͕̼̦̥͖̩̺͇͇̖̫͍̈́͜ ̶̼̠̭͈̫̜̭̻͓̳̞̰̓̏̾̔͌̚͜ͅ ̷̧̡̮͕̞̙̭͎̝͕̟̩͚͔̜̐͒̎̈́̽͑͗̓̒̎ͅ ̸̧̡̼̥̠̥̹͓͖͙͂͛̎͐͛̆̀̓̌͒̏͘͝ ̶̬̻͇̮̩͙̹̠̱͙̥̭̲̎͗̎̐̔̕ͅ ̴͕̪̗͕̭͗͒͊͌͒̈́̈́̋̂̀̑͠͝ ̵̨̧̢͈̰͇̝͇̬̫̝͚͕̹̈́̐ ̸̪̗̪͎͙͍͔͉̹̟̪̱̖̤̜͕͙͗́̌̄͆̄̀̚ ̷̛̼̦̝̰̹̊̊ ̸̡̨̧̲̤͈̹̊͗̋̏̌̈̓̈́̕ͅ ̷̛̗̲͓̠̝̬̫̹̹͖̙̝̙̺̦̉̓̓͌͂͋͗͋̅̊̆͗͘͝ͅ-̴̜̲̯͚̫͉̝͎̲̭̻͐̾͋̇̋̆̍́͆͗͂̇̽̄͘͝-̵͐̈­­̳̹̙̱̱̞͖̎͜-̵̧̡̛͖̖̪̬̬̱͎͉͚̹͔̾̔̉͐̔͌͆͊̾̕𝞬͕̳̝̥̝͛͒𝑰̨̝̩̩̝̟̺̺̗̠̲̬ͣ̔̽͜͢͠͝ͅ­͡­̖” “🝢̡̨̗͎̤͉̟͙̖͖͎̰̠̞̝̠͓̮̟͌̾̕̕͘̕͜͡𝖓̡̡̢̢̬̻̟̘͙̲̗̱̘̯̞̤̦̯͗̓̍̐̐͘͜”

“𝒴̶̢̛̼͜­̦̥͓̙͌̐̕𝕆̸͍͔̩̮̺͙̓𝕌̶̡̛͉͚̖̥̯̼͐𝓂̷̼̰̺͍̹̖̥𝔸̷̡̼̩̳̱̹̻̲̿͘𝔻𝓔̴̺̺̘̜̠̻̰̰̑𝓗̵̰͙̞­̲̻̻͎̞̔𝕀̵̨̛̤̙̟̱͍̦̎𝕄𝕊𝙊B̶̘̻̖̼̰̰̍͊𝔼𝕒𝑈𝕋𝓘𝔽𝕌𝕃𝚆̷̡̡̹̞̟͕̾𝓗𝕐𝔀̴͍̝̳̿𝓞̶͚̰̤͕̪̱̻̑­𝕟’𝕋𝓨𝕆𝕌𝓂̵͚̘̘̘̲͍͙̠̽𝓐𝕂𝕰𝓜𝕰𝓜𝕆𝕽𝔼B̸̡̢̠̘̬̍𝓔𝔸𝕌𝕋𝕀𝔽𝕌𝕃 𝓨̴͎̮̗̤̩̓͝𝕆𝕌𝓖̵̡̛͕̪̔𝓐̴̰̻̬̻͇̜̰̋𝕍𝓔𝕋𝐇𝕆𝕊𝕖𝕋𝕎𝕆𝓣𝕽𝓐𝕀𝕋𝕆𝕽𝕊W̵̲͈͖̻̰̮̔𝓘𝓝𝔾𝕊 𝓦𝐄𝓛𝓛—𝕎𝐇𝔼𝕽𝔼𝔸̸̹̥̖̲̖̠̓̋𝓡𝓔𝕄𝓨𝕎𝕀𝓝𝔾𝕊!?𝕀̶̞̜͙̠̲̺̱͇͘𝕔̵͉̞̲͚͖̪̩̒𝔸𝕟𝕆𝕟𝕃𝕐𝔻𝓡𝔸𝕲—𝕆𝕟­𝕃𝕐𝕔𝕣𝕦𝕤𝕙—𝔸𝓝𝔻𝕊𝕆𝕀𝕄𝕌𝕊𝕋! 𝕌𝕟𝕋𝕀𝕃𝓨𝕆𝕌𝓜𝓐𝓚𝕖𝓜𝓔𝕋𝕙𝕖𝓜𝕆𝕊𝕋B̷̢̛̺̩̤̦̞̘͘𝔼𝔸𝕌𝕋𝕀𝔽𝕌𝕃!𝕌𝕟𝕋𝕀𝕃𝓨𝕆𝕌𝔸̷͓̘̥̻͎̜͉͕͠𝔻𝕄𝕀𝕋𝓨­𝕆𝕌𝔸̸͖̟̠̘̓𝕣𝔼𝕄𝕀𝓝𝔼—𝕄̸͔̱̼͙͚̤̩̐𝕀̴̡̠̳̳͘𝓝̵̘̯̥̖̩̗̋𝔼̸̙͍͇̝̠̍!—𝙈̷̨̹͓̓𝓘̶͔̪͈̻̬­𝑁̷͍͓̤̦̮̿𝔼̴̘̖͕̬̬͋!”

“⧚̻͈͛͡𝜧̎⍏̟͙̘͕͓̤̲̮ͫ̀͘͞Ⳃ̪̏⫰̦̦̜̪͙̘̽͢͠𝒮̟̟̼̄𝖔̛⩜̻̰̎­̮̫̠̼͉̕𝑴𝟐̴̦̮̓­̳̳͗͛⾠̯͇͞” “🝑̨̡̳̰͚̜̥̖͇̐̒͞⟙̘͙͆⻐̡̼̠̙̠̠͂̾͛̾͘𝞴̛̯̺͚̾𝓂̨̛͍̟̼𝞌̖̲̟̗̘̪͆̍̕͡” “⨇̛̜̖͎͕̜̞̟̒̎̍͠͝𝒴̹̬͆̾̕⾓̢̲̝̐̎⫱̓͘⫶̢̛̛̫̞̱͘͟͝” “⛑̣͓̥̖̹͓̮̔̾̕͘͢͞ ̷̛̛̛͗͆̓̈́̆̃͋̓́̈́̌̉͊́́̿̄̃̒̈́̎̌̓̀̽̇̏̿̈́͗̅̆͌̄̎́̑̃̑̇͂̀̂̓͂̐̀̄̏̓́͆͐̆͐̀̚͝͝͠­­̧̨̨̡̨̢̛̞̝̯̜͍̰͙̥̲̙̭͔̭̫͈̩̹͔̲͕̙̣̲̮̮̖͎̪͈̭̬͔̣̙̳̗̭̥͓̯͈̺͍͍̼̗̯̄͋͜͜͜͝ͅͅͅͅ­͍­̢͜j̷̡̢̛̛̰̝̼̪̰̯̲̫̲͚̪̱̯͈̪͙̺͎̻̦̘͎̮̮̔̀̋̍͆̈́̆̉̄̽̍̎̄̔̍͒̀̈̏̌͌̀͑̂̐̒͒͘͠͝͝­͎͓­̢̙̲̯͈̪̹͇̙̦͉͕͕͔̱͎̯̮̩̞͖̱͖̪̣͇̘̺͚̻͜ͅb̴̧̢̛͇͖̱͚̻̔̈́͋̓̃̇͋͊͂̎͋́̎̿͝͝'̸̽͂­̇̅̓­̢̛̛̛͉̙̫͈̫̘̱̘͍̠̬̲̫͉̿̽̀̍͊̃̀̀͊̍̂̽̇̇̎̃̿̽̅̆̽͐͊̏̄̈̀̈́̀̍̓̀́̔͑͛̊͘̕̕̕͝ͅ­̠̺̱̹­̧̫̜̙̻̠͓̲̱̤̟̭̗͖̹͇͔̩̦̳̻̘̱̪̭̤̣̤͎̙'̶̢̲̤̞̝̝̹̭̦̃̿̆͂͛̐̄̃̓̐͂̔̓̈́͂̍͆̕̕­̢͔͓̘͈­̡̧̨̧͓̥̫͙͇̫̱̞̻̱̖͇͈͍͕̬͖̯̲̙̼͖͇̖̣̞͕̺̝̺̱̳̗̞ͅͅ;̷̧̛̝̟̟͖̙̙̮̮̙͕̭͔̋͜͝­̩̞̭̥̟ͅ­̢̡̨̢̡̞̮͍͔̳͔̝͕̩̥̬̦͖͉̗̮̥̞͍͎͎͔̳̲̳̹͍̤̗̖͕̺̤̟̻̜͓͚͚͎̦̣̜ͅ'̵̩̈́͗̓̈́̐;­̴̈͊̿͆̽͗­̞͕̲̰̙̙̜͐̄̿̓̔͆́̿͑̏̇̀̂́̑͛̈́͒̈́̏̂̓͂̿̓̉̎͂̆̆̋̃̓̎́̔͛̅́̽̒̈́̓̚̕̚̚͝͝͝­̙͖̱͎̤̣̺̘­̨̢̨̞̭͙͉͚͈̙̟͎̤̗͖̙̣͎͙̜͖̝͚̩̞̲̖̘ͅ;̶̛̈́͋̅͒͂̋̀̋̊̌̓̋̆̈͐͗̑̓̓̆͆͒̂͠­̛͑̊̉̄͗̃̃̚­̢̯̜̈́̃̉͒̊̿͋́͊̎̌̋̇̕̕;̸͌̍̆̃̍̎̉̾͂̏̌̒̒̓̈́͛̑͗̽͛̊̈̅́͌́̃́͑́̆͗̕͝͝­̉̃͗̊́̔͊͑̄͑­̛͚̥͗͊̃̈́̍̅̄́̑̃͐́̔̀́̔̆̈͌̀̀͂͝;̸̛͍̝͎͂̔͗͆͋̆̉̆̐̋̆̓̈́̇̉͊̋̔̾̎̕͝­̯̲̱͔̱͔͕̝̙͚͜­̶̡̛̪͙̟̗͇̲̲̦͉͚̯̟͔̣͖̥̤̟̓͌̇̏̓͛͋͗̽́̎͗̄̍̀́́̎̊͑͂̾́͘̕̕͘̕̚͘͠ͅ­͖͉̈́̋͑̈́̓̽̕͝­̴̝̥͚͍͂̾̒̏́̃̅͑̽́̉̏̆̒̾̌̆̋́͒̌̔͒̅͗̎̉̄̌̇̑̎́͗̒͒́̓̔̓̓̓̍̐̂̚͝͝͝­̨̡͎̼͕͕̖̞̟͈̻­̸̢̡̡̨̡̬̥̙̗̣͉͖̦̹̣̦̙̙̯̯͍̪̳̘͉̤̟͔̻͉̻̠͕̘̣̬̫̘͖̓́͋͑̓͂̒̀͛̉́͘͠­̥̜̱͓̲͓̩͙̱̞̗­̵̡̦͎̩͖̤̝͔̺̘̳̜͕̹̦̖͚͈͙͓̂͂͑̔̋̈́͌͛̂̉̅͆̾͋́̂̎̍̊̉͋̽̐̊̓̇̅̃̒̔̕͜­̀͗̃̀͆̂͐͐̈͘͝­̡̡̨̞̰̯̺͖͚̰̜̖͚͍̼̝̞̣̙͕̺͇͓̱̭̝̱͉̟̤̋́̇̈́̇́̈́̓͑͌͂͐̄̃̏̎̋̾̈́͘͝͝͝­̲͓̦̯̖̱̜̪̲͔͙̥­̵̸̧̳̦͓̤̱̻͙̼̟̹̖̱̤͉͚̦̟̭̮̦͔͙̻̫͍̱̪̭̳̹̜͈̙͇̳̱̲̳͒̌̎̃̋̆̀͂͠͝ͅ­̈́͆͌̂͛̆̕̕̕͠͠­̡̡̛͍̙̮̞̯͙̥̦̞̰͎̠̣͙̬̦̩͈̩́͊̂̌̉̏̋̋͑̚̚̕̚͜͝⍔̠̞̄⩞̘̠̼”
“ ̶̢̧̧̫̮̱̞̩͖̱͕͉̟͖̻̙̜̲̥͍̮̯͖̺̥̗̝̞̳̬͖̟̙̤̻͔͛̓̅̾͂̎͑̽̑̅̒͌̿̑͗͊͊̈́̾̉̒͋͘͜͜͜ͅͅ­­̲͉̣̹͍̗͇̬̬͔̝͈̬̙̮͕ ̷̛̛͛͛̋̂̓́͂̋̌̉̒́̿̉̋̈́̈̂̾͂͋̅̃̀̈́̐̐͊̃͑̌͂̓͂͐̾̏̀͗̌̀̍͊͑̌͛͆̀̾͑̓̒͘͘̚̕͘͠͝͝͠͝­­̛̈́́͒̄́̿̂́̑̈̉͗̊͛̈̀͆̈̌̾͌̋͛͂̿͆̓̇͐̅̂͛̈́͋̄̿͊̃̈́̾͆̐̈͐́̏̏̆͑̓̊̂̊̿́̓̑͘̚͘͝͠͝­́­̧̧̣̹̲̘̩̼̮̫̰͓̺̱̮̻͖͕͉̻͙̲̙͈̲̭͇̻̟̺͍͍̣̘̩͂̉̒̓̓̒͛̿̂̓͐͒̄̔̅̈́̓̅̽́́̿̉̉́͗͊͝­̧̯­̢̡̨̧̢̢̧̨̱͎͚̖͚͚̳̣̬̘͎͈͇̣̱̱͓͚͓͓͍̘͎̰̞̱̱͍̠̖̠͈̬̼͇͕̺͈̞̥̲̩̥̪̠͇͕̝̠̭̘̭͜ͅ­̼͍̘­̡̢̡̧̧̰̣̙̪̯̭̩͓̦͓̼̳̠̩̦̝̘̟̻̲͉̦̭͖͍͙̥̱̼̙͎̝̬̱̳̙̤̩̯̲͎̰̲̤̼̙͈͖̻͜͜͜ͅͅͅͅ­̢̩̗ͅ­̤̹͕͙̲͓̘̻ ̶̛̟̞̞̬̝͎̼͙̤̼́̌̄̏͆͋́̎̽̅͑̔̈́̊͛͒̿̏͐̉͊́͐͋͋̒̔̈́͗̌̋̂͂̓͂̃̿̅̋̆͌̽͗̔̃̚̕̚͝͝͠͝͠­­̢̢̢̧̨̨̞͚̹̳̩͚͈͇͕̣̙̮̟͕̪̜̭͉͈̠͕̟̟̘̗͕̥̣̝͙̱̟̰͎̝̹̯͚͖̟͉͚̦̤̟͓̭̮̙̺̝͎̬͕̺̳̭͜­̻­̨̡̨̡̡̡̩̼͎͖̝̝͓̖̙͉̗̺̜͖̖͎͍͉͕͈̥͇͖͕̟̝̠͙̭͍̺̮̻̺̯̝͎̠̬̩̲̺͚͕̗͙̱̠̗͇̙͚͙͕̙͓ͅ­̭̦­̢͔̼̫͇̖̥̬̬̟͈̬ ̷̛̛̓́̽̿̓̃̀̀̓̎̈́͊̏̔̏͗̈́̑͛̅́͌͊̀̆͗̇̒̐̊̈́̂͂̓̍̃̉͗́͗͊̒̈́̇̑̽̍͑̉̃̋̅͂̍͛̕̚͘͘͝͝­­̛̛̛̛͂̌͛̏̋͗̊͐̐̒̅͆̽͊̀͒͊̈́͒̽̌̆̀̅̑͌̾͑̌͑̓̍̀̂̂͊̔͑̍̀̇̾̏̇͐͆̒̄̂̀̚̕͘͘̚͘͝͝͠͠­̍­̧͙̞̘̭̰̠͍̫͙̪͔̞͍̏͐́̇̓͗͐̊̀̇̉̽̄́́͒͋͗̆̒̅̋̇̽̏̽̿̋͗͑̅̎̏́͐̍́̒͛̕̚̕͘̚͘͜͠͠ͅ­̗̻­̢̨̢̡̡̖̥͕͓̬̥̥͖̺̙̭͓̲̙̥̻̞̥̩̦̥̺̟̳̣̪̞̹̺͉̰̘̜̱͕͖͚̺̦͚̠͓͍̮̬̯͖̖̻̣̩̼͖͜͜ͅͅ­̥̹̭­̢̢̡̫͈̗̣͉͈͈̜̮̜͓̞̻̯͕͇̳̪͉̯̠̟̺̬̰͎͍̼̣͕̯̭͎̹̲̩̘̮̮̭̞̙͓̺̜̯̗̲̫̖̩̞̘̖͙̝͖ͅ­̨̺̜̭­ ̷̛̛̽̀͐͊̍͋̀͒̾̍͂̐̄́̂̀͋̾̄̀̂̄̉̏̐̎͊͊͐͂̊̒̂̍͌̿̐̀̋̓̀̀̑̉̌́̅̑̒̊͌̍́̄͘̕͘̚͘͘͠͝­­̧̢̳͖͇̜͚͇̫̟͙̠̺̪̬̩̬͍̱̲͚͚̞̼̣̜̗̺̬̬̬̠̯̳̬̹͎͕͓͎̅̿͊͑͋̉͒̎͊͆̐̿̋̌̽͗̇̎͘͜ͅͅͅͅ­̧­̡̧͈̯̯̟̩͍͓̠̳̩̹̮̤͙̭̫͜ ̸̛̛̛̑̒̋̿̎̔͋͑̒̈́͗͛͑̿̑̎̀̓̈́̔̀̌͌͆̽̓̐̄̓̀͋̆̊́͐̍̓̅̐̅̑́̏̔̋́̒̊͗̎̐̈̇͒̚͠͝͠͠͠͝­­̛̌͗́̅͋̍͐́̀͂̅̽̿̾̈͆̒͂̄̽͒̅̀̌̍́̉̉͂̒̓̆̉͑͛̃̀͋̑͐̓̾̄̆̏̈͋́́̾̾͋̓̚̚͘̚̚͠͝͝͝͝­̕­̨̧̢̧̢̧̡͈̙͓͖͈͔̭͕̬͚̝͈̭̻̙̹̯̭̼͙͕͇͇̫̟̹͓̲͉̮̣̖͈͙̣̬̝̝̰̺͖͛̎͛̑͊̓̈́͂̍̊̀͜ͅͅͅ­̮̭­̡̡̨̨̢̨͓̤̝̲̞̤͈̦̮̱̗̘͖͍͔̗̼̠̤͎̻͍̘̮̲̝̞̝̬͍̙͓̝̻̦͕̲͓̣͉̙̺͇̣̰̼͍̭͖̙͈̪͜͜ͅͅ­̜̖̣­̨̨̢̡̧̝̯̬̫̮̘̜̻̭̺̠̥̳͇̪̙̹͇̼̲͎̪͇̙̪͍̦̞̦̼̩̤͜ ̵̛͛̊̈́͒̈́͋̾̓̿̎͆̐̊̅̒́̔̀̈́͆̈́̑̃͑̌͑̽̍̏̀̂̍̓͑̏̇̌́̾̽̈́̈́́̋̈́͊͌̈́̍͐̀̃̏̆̚̚̚̚͝͠͝͝͝­­̧̢̧̡̨̛̞͔̱͖̜̙͕̜̩͓̩̖̜͖̩̰̥̪̞̜͕̮̩̗̩̰̫͔̞͔̱̳̟̞͇̟̜̠̜̘͓̟̠̩́̿̀͆́̃́͜ͅ ̶̛̛̛̽̈́̔͐̑̄͐͛̌́͗̓̃̎̉̄̈́͗͆̑̌͆̇̈́͑̀̎̈́̑̃͒̐͋̋̎̅̑̋̀̈́́̆̉̏̏̒̈̔̓̇͂́̔̅͑̕͘̚͘͝͝­­̛̄̃̎̿̒͆́̽͂̑̒͑́̈́͊̌͑̑͗̅̄̉̿̄͗̂̅̓͋̂̄̌̈̅͂̾̀̍̎́̆́̂̈͛̃̋̇̐̽̅́͐̆̐̆̈́̚̚̕͘͝­̊­̨̧̛̤͚̮͕̮͚̪̭̭̺̘̹͈̣͎̬̠̘͔͙̘̱̹̲͚̰̥̪̫̜̬̰͙͓̖̙̫̙̤̯̻̹̭͔͕̬̹͔̓͛̓̑̀̾̓̆̎̐̀͝­̮̰­̨̨͙̹̺̺̪͇͍̙̣̹͍͇̯̪͈̬͕̣̯̱̖̤̪̹̼̦͚͎̘̫̞͎̜̼̲̗͎͍̣̹̠̪̺̖͉̻̩̰̰̼̙̣͉͓̰͜͜͜ͅͅ­͚̣ͅ­̦̰̰̮͉ ̸̛̀̈́̉͌͐̊̀̃͒͗͒̌͒͌̈́͐̋͐̅̿̓́͛̃͊̌̍́͐̈́̑̀͒̀͆̏̀̓̀̽̓̇̐͊́̏̏̂͊͋̃͒̑̚̕̚̕͝͝͠͠͝͝­­̛̛̛̛̓͂͐̓̉̈͋̈́̈̅̐̉̃͆̎̊́̂̐̐̎̓̃͐͌͑̿̽͌͐̍͑͌͛̏̄͛͐̈͋̓̽͌͑͊̎͗̃̏̈̀̑̊͌̚̕͠͝͝͝­̾­̨͓͓̬͈̝͕̘͙͉̬̲͓͖̻͍̤͉̈́͒͊̑͐̏̌̏̈̿͌̂͒̉͋̊̆͂̀͛̈́͒̔̓̌̄̒̐͋͋̈́̈́̎̈́̌̐͗͘̕͘͜͝͝͝ͅ­̹̦­̧̢̨̢͔͚̘͕̣̙͓͎̥͙͔̖͕̣͉̱̰͖̝̝̦͔͎͉̰ͅͅͅ ̸̛̛̛̊̇͛͑̏̓̃̈̅̎̃̔̇̓͒͑̑͛̿̂̅͛͌̋̆͐̿̑͛͒̂͐̃́̅̆̉͛͐̿́̍̈͆̌̆̓̓̿͐͗͘͘̕͝͝͝͠͝͝͝­­̢̢̨̡̡̣͎̦͖̼̝̜̫̯̦͙̻̺̪̝̰͉̪̙̥͙̱̰̞̗̖̭̩̯̣̝͉͙͉̬̲̯̼͉̒̏̉̎͛̈́̃͒͛͆̾̈́͋́̚͜͜͠͝ͅ­̪­̧̨̡̨̨̧̡̗̤̗̫͕̯̲̯̰̫̖̦̼̜̬̞̯̗̙̜̟͔̭̰͖̼͉̘̮͇̰̺̭̩̹̩̭̰͍̖̮͔̝͔̤̻͙͎̳̟̝̣͜͜ͅͅ­͕̘­͔̟ ̴̛̛̛̓͆̅̑͆̉͑̌͐̽̃̇͋͋͋͒͊͑̄͛̌̾̈̌́͌̂̏̔̂̆̿̅͛̔̀́̋̿̔̀̓̽̀̈͆̂͂̒̀̚͘̕͘͝͝͝͝͝͠͝­­̨̢̡̛̗͇̫͈̲͙͍̜̙͓͇͎̪̟̪̞͈̣̼̱̳̠̺̰̣̪͎̮̳̜̙̗̤̦͍͙͎̦̣͐͌̃̐̍̊̊̔͊̌̆̎̓̈́̽́̎͒̈́͘͝­̫­̨̨̥̙͇̙̠̻̜͔̘͜ ̶̛̓͑̿̊͐̒͋̍̇̎̽̆͋̅̔̅͗͋̀͗͗̇̎̈͌͛͂̆̎͑͊̏̉̄̐̑̆̍͑̌͌̅͆̍̍͗͑̐̍̉̂̿̀̔̅̉́̚͘͘͝͝͝­­͑̑̆̌̄̓͗͋̔̊̀̽̈́̓̈́͊̉̍͒̅̍̾̿̐̽̃̃̋́̄̒̈́̓̾̊̊̂͋̑̊̓̌̓̋̅̋͋̐̆̀̑̋̀̒͒̾̅̒͘͘͘͠͠͝­͆­̧̢̨̡̱͓͔͖̺͍̜̦̬͇̹͕̣̘̺͉̮̱̼͕͈̞̹̱̺̯͚̲͖̪̲̱͓̱̖͓̼͖̖̠̣͉̭̥̯̼͈̲͈̒́̚͜ͅͅ ̸̡̡̡̛̰̱̠͉̠͕͚͓̹̯͕̩̤̬̩̰̥̻̘͍̲̪̰̰̭͔̤̖͕̳̙̤̹̞̻̇͆͑̔̐̊̈́͐̌̆̽͂̑̊̓͌̄̕̚͘͘̚͜ͅͅ­­̨̨̢̢̢̡͖̣̲̼͈̳͕͉͍͓͇̻̲͖͇̞͖͙̺̠̩͍͎̤̙̜̯̻̺̦͚̼̘̠̯͔̲̙̰̳̬̼̭̣͇̰̯̘͍̥̮̱̤͎̱͕̼ͅ­̠­̢̨̧̡̨̪̼̝̱̺̼̖͈͖̝͎͓̱̣̯̳̝̜̣̲̭̜̻͈̝̫̟͍̼͈̮̭̺̲̟̰̞̙̖̘̱͈̱̖̠̲̮̩͍̻̫̖͙̳͓͉̺͎­̡̦­̧͇͔̙̣̬̺̖̯̟͓̟̥͓̘̻̫ ̶̛̾̅̌͌̀͑́̀̀͗͛͋͊̀̊̅̊̐̃͒͑̀͗̽̊̓̒́͂̐̉̎̈̈́̓̀̑͛̈́̆̋̋̉̃̆͊͛̑̈̉̓̂͊̓̋̅̀̚̕̚͘̕̚­­̡̤̲̤͔̬̦̼̾̍͑̎̀͌̃̇̆̀͐͆̋̽̀͛̽͑̎͋̔͑̏̐̏́̾̑̽̿̆̿̃́̍͂̓͐̈́̔͗̍̅͐̌̈̈́̌̿̊̈́̓͘͝͝ͅ­̞­̧̨̨̡̧̧͍̜̝̘͉̗̦͕̗̘̯̯̲̳̜̤͇̯̠̪͍̦̝̻̺͖͎̰̘̟̙̣̼̩̯̗̙̠̲͍̟̮̳̻͎̩͉̱̣̰͖͖͜͜͜ͅͅ­̞͕­̡̧̠̬͕̪̗̙̼̮͓̯̝̰͎̮͖̙̰̝̺͕̬͖͎̳̯̮͍̠̰̥̠̜̯̖̬͇͉͖̱̙̜̱͓̮̠̼̩̹͈̜̫͔̺̫̩̤͜͜͜͜­̨̲̗­̣ ̸̛̛̌͌͛̈̿͌́̈̑͛̌͐̐͐͛̿̓̔̄̉̓̌̌̊̈̋́̀́̿̔̈́̇̐̐̈́͛͛̈́̂̏͐̍̐̀͌̉͑̒͘̚̚͠͝͝͠͠͠͝͝͝͠­­̛̛̛̛́̒͋̃̈̔̆̎̈̑̾̉̈́̊̀̐͛̐̀̒̌̂͂͂̓̓̇͛͋̐̓̊̉͛̋͆̏̋̽̑̉̈͑̿͌̎̿͋͗͌̇̓́͗͑͒̈͘͝͠­̐­̨̢̧̧̤̤̥͕̟̠͔̥̟̯̫̺̗̻̬̳͙̼̥͉̮̥̫̼̺̗̙̥̪͓̰̘̘̺͈͇̥͖̺̬̘͇͉͔̬̋́̽̀̓̾̔͑͛́̾͘͘ͅ­͉̪­̢̡̳̳̹͔͙̫̞̟̩͖̘ ̸̛͐͌̽̈́̾̒̓̊͋̊̂̀̽͛̒̐̆͑̎͆̌͛̉͛̾͑̏̎̑̔̃̓̍͑͋̓͊͊̈͒̔̈͗͆̆͋̑̐̋̃́̈́̚͘̚̕̚̕͝͝͠͝͠­­̛̛̃̀̊͌̉̓͌͋͛̾͑́͌͗̌͋́̊̓͗̈́͛͒͆̅͊͌̓̐̔͐̇͋̾̑̆͆́̌͌́̽̈́̍̊̉̉́̌̈́̄̈͋̈́̀̈́̚͘͘͠͝͝­́­̯͎͕͎̓̌̈́̑͊̑̂̇̿̌̂̇̈́́̿̒͋̇́̀́͂͂͠͝͝ ̷̀̅̉̾͗̿̓̈́͌̇͛̔̈́͊͛̑̾̋́̄̌̍̽̿͗̈̒̑̋͛͊͒͐̏̓̇̌̈́̃̄̋̆͂̀̆͗͋͆̑̔̾̅̓́̀̀͊̎́̚͝͝͝͝­­̡̨̧̛̗͙̹̥̦̼͎̫̞͈͈̜̼̪̭̗̫̠̯̲͔̹̫̤̟̻͉͎̞͑͒̾̏̈́̍̉̇̅̆̈̀͌̓̍́̏̽̎̅͌̈̇̏̓͘̚̚͠͠ͅ­̰­̢̨̼͔̘̟̱̟̝̲͇̭̜ͅ ̴̛̛̓̒̓̒̉̒̍̓́͐̒̒̄͗̒͂̾͋͗̎̈͆͒̾̊͊̈́̀̋̈̑̊̋̈̾̋̈́͋̇͆̓̑̋̓́̂̏̂̀̇̑̚̚̚̕̕͝͠͠͠͠͠­­̛̛̛̛͍̖͙̣͔̩̩̘̬̱͔̟̳̟͔̿̊̈͌̏̈́̀͂͆͐̌͋͌́̌̊̇̃̂̿̾̆̀̽̔͊̋͆̊̃̾́̎͛̓̂͑̆̌̚̚̚͝͠͝­͕­̨̡̧̧̨̦̠̯̯̫̺͖̣̟͖̪̪͕̲̻͍̟̝͕̗̰͓͍̭̤̞̥̰͉͉͎̙̩̤̺̜͕̞̥̮ͅ ̸̛̛̀͑͐́̓́́̈́̋̈́̑̂̀͂̾̍͊̂̇̏͆̓̅̈͗̉́̓͌̅̒͗̋̍̓̋͗̄̎̄͌͑͌̌̌̀̐͐̈̃͛̍̚̚̚͠͠͠͝͝͝͝­­̛̈́̔̂̾̏́̇̂̐̃̐͗̆̾̾̐̃̂̀͊̊̆̂͛̈̋̈̈́̓̒̑̓̎̓̊̈́̌̈́͐̉̄̓̑̄̍̀͋̂͋̄̋̔̊͌̆͂̾͝͠͝͠͝͝­̀­̡̢̧̣͚̲̗̭̤̗̹͎͈̤͖̠̺͈̘̻̜̳̼͇̫̤̬̣̹͎̯̦̙̤͐̀͌͒͐̈͆͊͛͐͆̀̏͒̿̈̿̑̽̎̋̚͘͝͝͝͠ͅͅ­̳̬­̫͉̪̝̟̪ ̴̛̛̱̦̯̯́͑͗͒̉̂̈͌̓̓͌͌̓̇̀̆͆̓̂̂́̅̀͌̓̈̉̓̇͆̋̍̂͒͌͗̈́͌̎̾͑̏̈́͂͒͗̊̅̾̑͐͘̕̚͠͝ͅ­­̨̨̢̨͔͈̺͕̭̼̺͚̘̥̩͇̣̳̭̤͔͕̳͚̦̤͎̯̼̰̘͎͙͙̝̞̖̝̘̹̥̫͚̺͓̥̥͇̱̝͓͎̩͈̖̘̫̻͔̖͜͜͜ͅ­̩­̨̧̢̡̼̰͇̹̮͍͚̼͚̹̘͎̖͙̙̫̖̠͔̞͍̳̤͚͉̠̲̺̞ ̷̲͍̝̰͖̩̰̟̓̒͒̏̏̃̏ ̶̛̛̔̀͊́̊̅̿̆͐̒͐̅́͊̈̍̔̔͑̐̔̔̉̍̈́̔͆̄͋̅̿̈͌̆̉̒̋̈́̓̂̓̀̆͂̔̊̍̈͗̎̓͒̚͘͘̚̕̚͠͝͝͝­­̛̛̛̊̃̋̆͋̓͋͋͊̀̎̄̏̌́̈́́̋̓̿̌̇͂͐̍͊͑̈́̀̿̈́̀̃́̈́̅̅̔̓̊̾̎̔̒̀̾͐͂̀̈̈́̓̐̽̚̕͝͝͠͝͝­̉­̡̧̧̭͍͓̼͇̱̥̯̞̩̰̟̬̦͚͈̪̬͖̬͈̦̭̗̮̺̠̼̲̊̄̅̀̍͑̌̾̊̔̊͛̀̄̃̉͛̂̀̔̄́̈́̕͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅ­̱̯­̡̢̧̢̡̲͍̳͙̼̱̜̟̪̼̙̗͕͉̦̦̥̱̞̱͓̬͚̝̰͍͔̬̪̥̦̩̱̙̠͚͈̝̣̬͍̠̭̦̣̝̬͍̯͜͜͜ͅͅͅͅͅ­̟̠͈­̢̡̨̡̡̢͎̙̥̭̳͖̩̭͇͎̲͍̹͇̩͙̣͉̺̮͉̹͇̰̯͖̪̤̟̩̱̪̩̩̰͉̬̜̟̗͙̻̥̖̩̻̱̣̖͇̥̝̰͜ͅ­̥̼̮̜­̨̧̢͖̥̳̫̯̠͍̗͇͜𝚛̛̺͇͛ ̸̢̨̢̢̡͖͓̩̜̘̣͓̫̗̺̺̲̬̗̠̤͎͙̜̩̙͓͚͇͔͕̱̜͉̭̬̳͍̩̪̝͔̓̍̿̈́̀́́͌̔̆̂͆̑̐̂̍̔̕̚͜͜ͅ­̧̟͎̦̤͙̼͚̫̙̯ ̶͙͕͕̮͒̂̊̾͌̒̚ ̴̨͓̘̗̣͎̭̣̣̼͇̱͕̠͑̈́̀̑̋̅̀̀̈́́̕͘͜ ̶͔̝̭̞͍̯̠͔̫̯̭͉͔̘̲̥̯̗̙͔̜̙͈̻̞̥̫̖̮͕̖̔̀̐͋͆͗͂͂͒̂̀̒̃̎͋̂̿͛̍͗̋̀̊̈͌͝͠͠͠͠͠ͅͅ­̢̮̦̩̝̠̝̯͕̞͈̰͎̫̰͈̘̹͎̯̭͜ͅ ̷̛̘͔͎̘̻̦̄̓͌͊̓̅͒̾̈́̔̈́͑́̾̈̎̀̈́̅͛̾̾̂̿̇̈͐̍̄̌̄̒̉̐̽̏̊͑̀̅̄́͒̽́͘̚͘̕͘͠͝͝͝͝͠ͅ­̢̧̢̡̢̢̧̳̲͎̞͚̥̺͎̰̘̩͉͔͔̟̞̜̼̻̠͍͖̻̳͔̩͈͚̟̳̻̜̻̗͇̦̼͔͚͔̯̭̜͚̺͜͜ͅͅ ̶̨̨̨̢̢̢̛̼̤̦̫̹̰͙̼͉̠̩̤̦̲͖̹̙̩̗͙͉̜̟̱̝̤̦̝̘̭̹͈̋͋̾̍̅̀̂͑̅̊̍̂̉̒̈́̎̃̽̇̊̍̕͜͝ͅ­̨̨̢̤̙̻̦̟̝̼̫̦͍̬̹͚̭̬̲͇̙̲͉͍̮̤͇͉͈̦͜ ̸̋͛̑͂͗̑͋̌̓̓̂̈́͐̓̈́͑̂͛͌͋̒̈̓̅̈́͐̾̏̈́̀̈́̈́̅̓̓͒͐̉̃̔̔̈́͑͗̀̇̈́̀̍̕͘͘̚̕͘̚͜͝͝͠͝͠͠͠­̧̧̧̡̢̰̺̙̤͕͚̬̗̞̰̮̼̰̺̦̲̻̖͖̳͖̱̹͖̱̱͚͍̯̰̱͚̳̝̙̳̘̖̮͚̹̫̪̯̖̰͖͉̻̣̥̫̲̮̜͔̤͚͜ͅ­̨͎̰̯̺̯͙̺͔̳̹ ̴̢̯̳̟̟͓̝̞̺͓͖̗̦̜̹̖́͊̒̒͒̓̉̒̔̔̀̌͋̄̎̅̑̄̈́͗͗͂͌̾̆̿͆̋̀̄̀̽̌̃̉̔̍̀͋͊̽̾͗̾͘̕̚͝­̨̨̨̙̖̻̺̬͓̮͔̜͉̹͎̞̹̜̥̩̖̩̰̤̥͔̣̺̰̞̘̮͜͜ ̴̧̨̠̭̻̳͎̣̥̮̰̻̳͖̰͎͖̬͂̈́̀͂͌̀̅͐̃̋͗̃́̇̄͂͋̽̉̅̈́̐̀̿̆͋̐̇̇͑̈́͗̃̾̊̀̔̿̕͘̚̚͘͜͠͝­̨̧̜͕͕̯͓͙͓̟̤͕͍͈̹̺͚̖̳͍̲͓̦̹͖͙͖̰̳̠̗̖͙̭̻̺̘͇͖̖̘̖͓̳̺̗͜ ̶͚̪̖̍͒̓̽̿̈́̊̀̉͋̿́̓̈̈́̏̓̓̔̀̄̃̊̅͂̈́̂̊̀̄͆̋̓̍͑͌͒̊̇̉͑̈́̅̋͊̔̔̔͆͋͐̈́̍͂̕̕͜͠͠͝͝­̢̧̨̢̗̠̤̞̙̯̜̫̜̞̗̼͔͎̼͍̺̜̻̭̟̤̘̥̗̺̮̟͉̗͖͍̳̩̮͖̤̠̙̮̭̦̭̱͜ͅͅ ̷̢̛̬̌́̎̂̒̑̅̿͗̆̽̋̄̾̒̿̈̊̊̋̓͌̀̅̇̏̍͆͛́̐̃̎͗̊͌̃̃̌̋̑̀͌̅̀͗̒̉͐̅́͗̂͋̈̂͛̏̆͝͠­̢̨̡̢̨̡̢̧̢̡̡̧̨̨͚͍͓͔͚̟͙̤͕̖̦͓̥̳͖̻̭͓͓̩̖̪̘͕̭̰̘̬͙͍̫͚̠̬̜̻̼̫̩͖̠̳̩͖̫̯͓̗͍̳͜­̧͚͙̻̩̥͕̗̗̺ ̸̢̨̛̮̺̺͖̗̣͚̺͛̊̑͑͋͊̂̓́͊̌͗̀́͋̂̇̆̑̒̑́̈̌̈͂̇̓̐̿̀̀̄̕͘͘͘̚͠ ̷̧̢̨̛̛͖̤͔̳̦̣̤͕̜̳̬̣̙̪̱̳̭̹͓̦͇̥͊͒́͋̋̂̾͑̋͋̔͋̈̇̃͒̓̔͌͑̉̈̃͐̋͐̆̅͘̚͜͜͜͝͠͝ͅ­̡͉͇͎̞͉̱̮͓͕͍͉͜ ̸̡̛͙͙̩̩͓̫̀̐̍̒̋́̈́̈́̃̀͌̌̋̑͐̔͊̔͂͆̓͌͊̈́͆͒̌͂̃̏̎̾̏̅͊͘͘͘͜͝͠͝ ̵̢̨̛̛̮̤̦͈̣͙͕̪̭͎͎̰͙̤̝̲͙̬̬͕͕͍̝̬̦́̀̃̈́̅̈̓̆́́̈́͆͋̋̆́͆̈́̅̐̈̆͒̽́͒̂̂́͊͜͝͠͝͝­̧̢̧̧̳̟͉̻̯̘̬̖͖͔͕̺̦̮̪ ̴͍̪̩͈͋̐̉̆̒͋͗̌͂̍̀̓̊̄̈̑̎̄̓́̎̓̂̑͐̈́͐̈́̉͋͊͝͝ ̵̛̣̤̓͑̎̈́̈́̉̃̋͊́́̒͌͒̃̏̃̒̄͐̔͌͋͛̕͝͠͠ ̴̡̛̱̟͉̬͇̼̺̖̀̒̓͂̀̾̆̂̄̇̇̓̍́̉̅͋̎͑̏̌̓̍͊̋̓̂̀̎̈́͒̑̂̀͊͛̈́̇́́̓͆̇͘͘͘͘͝͠͝͝͝͠͝­̧̖̩̪͇͓̟̞̣̘̥̱͖̱̝̟̝͓̤͙͔̼͉̲̥̫̪̠͉̳̩̺̱̯̫͜͜͜ͅ ̵̛͐̆̆̅͛̀͛̂̎̐̍̃̎̋͗̍́̑͂͌̓̔̽̀̾̀̑̽͛͂͗̈̾̈͑͛̔͊͛̀̈́̅̐̔̈́͂̓̀̈́̂͆͌̓̃͋̀̓̀͊̕͝͠͠­̨̨̧̢̡̡̢̰͇͈͙͉̗̠͍̮͖͕̟̘͚͙͔̱̞̜̰͉͉̗̫̦̼̖͖̙͔̗͍̟̲̘͎̪͍̺̦̝͚̹̥̹̈͗̽̎̾̿̏̍̽̕͜ͅͅ­̧͔̣͕̮͙̺̱ͅ ̶͕̭̪̥̗̼̑̑̍̍̈́́̅̐͊̔̓͑͊̅͑̃̀̐͗̔͆̆͊̍͂͛̔͘͠ ̷̧̞̻̯͉̭̖͕̳̖̼̭̭͈͓̹͉̯̩͉̤̀̀̾̿͌̽̌̈́͛͝͠ͅͅ ̶̡̡̡̢̢̞̱͓̭͓̖̠̳̹̬͍͖͇̟̤͙̤͓̳̞̳͍̘̙̯̦̪̗̮͙͖͎̮̞̜͈̝͕͉̱͚͇̪̘͓̖̹͈͛̎̄͛̅̃͜͝͝ͅͅ­̡̡̢̬͓͚͍̦͙̮̘̖̱̪̻̼̳ͅ ̷̧̛̯͉̺͓̤͕̗̘̗̣̝͎͉͉͉͑̇̊̑͛͂̓̇͗̃͗̌́̈́̎̒̋̽̊̒̐͒́̈́͂̀͘̕̕̕͠͝͠ ̸̧̢̢̛̲̣̦̫͈̝̰̭͍̹̗̻̝̲̾̒̀̆̐̾͌̊̂̇̋͂̉͊̈́̒̋̈́̾͛̆͐̋̇̍̆͐̔̆͊̀̀̈́̽̐̊̎̈̕͠͝͠͝͝͝ͅ­̡̧̨̢̢̠̹̙̻̯̯̼̤̰̼̰͇̱̲̮̮̜̻̮͈ ̵̨̢͍̩͚̥̯̫̹̥̻̝͖̪̻͚̖́͊͒̋̃̾̅͌̏̓̽̀̅͌͑̂̽͑́̂̊́̕̕̕͝͝͝͠ ̸̧͔̜̪̱̦͉͚̪̙̹̝̙̝͓̰̝͈͗͋̅̐̋̂̐̆̐́̓̿͐̄̄̽̒͒̍͆̄͐̓̋̉̌̇̿̈́͑̐̈́̄̽̆̽͊͆̎͘͝͝͝͝͠͠­̡̧̧̧̡̨̢̨̧̧̘̣̳͙̣̤̳̤̠̞͚̘̦̫̤͉̦͙̩̮̲̰̼̼̣͚̼̬̹͙̻͚̰̞͕̟͎͉̫̺̜̟͎̝͖͔̰͇̪͉͜ ̸̧̗̪͎̲̲͓̤̳̤̝̟̥̜̗̜͎̆͆́͂́̉̍͐̀̎̏̈́̊̊̆̃̈́̉̏͋̇̒̌̕͜͝ͅ ̶̨̧̧̢̪̩̟̤̰̦̺̰̳̟̼̟̟̹̰̳̝̞̫̮̜͕̝̝͖̻̙͈̜͉̘͔̲̲̯̝̜̗̘͇̗̭̮̞̺̬͖̱̯͉̯̑̔͂͆͊̀͜ͅͅ­̨̦̝̭͎̱̞̳̯̺͇̮͜ ̶̨̡̨̨̛̛̰͎͇̳̫̲͇̥̠̤̭̟̰̥͙͈̲͇̺͔͚̭̦͕͒̏͑̈̒̑̋͋́͛͂̽̔̂̊̇̊̏̄̽͛͑̽̉̓̚̚̕̚͘͠͝͝͝­̺͙̩̺̦̣̝̺͔̳̮̜͉̭̝̟͚̮͎͈͔̜͍ ̴̡̡̧̛̞̬̻̘̟̤̘̪͉̱̥̥̫͇͍̦͚̦͚̮̹̓̀̈́̓́͆̈́̇̉̿́̉͗̐͊̀̀̈́͂̑̈́̄̍̊͌̄̔̅̕͜͜͝ͅ ̸̛̹̆̎̓̽́̋̍̅͗̑̐̔̐́̄͋͊̊͒͐̂͂̆̍͊̓̊̈͂̑̾̏͆̈́̀̋̓̆̎̂̂͑͗̿́̅̉̏̉͛̍̊͘͘͘̕̚̕̚͘͠͝­̡̨̧̡̢̠̰̘͙̲̖͚͓̪̗̙͔̗̬̳̗̬͓̫̮̻̰̣̭̘̖͓̳̲͖̜̖̯̜̯̖̥͈̝͇͓͈͓̟̟͔̯̰̯̭̲̝͖̥͖͕̼͜ ̶̛̛̛͑̈́̿̆̂͌͒͒͊̅̋̋̅̈̑̒͋̓̌̎̔̀̂͛̐̍̇͋̔̈́̎̌̈̈́̈͐͑̍̆̓͋͑̿͛͂̑̊͌̑͐̎̚͘̕͘̕̕̚̚͝͠­̛̛͇̖̉̽͑̅́͒̐̋̈́ ̴̡̨̛͈̗̤͍̙̲͔̫̹͙̜̩̠̯͖̟̫̺̹̞̻͔̪̦̗̠̭̹͍̺̲͕̦̙̼̈́̅͌̾͛̔̅̋̈́͗̌͒̾͋̊̈́̾̄̍͌̌̃̕͝͝͝­̖̹͜ ̸̢̨̨̦̬̮̫̰̜͈͙̞͚̪͓͓̣͓̻̠̪̝̥̮̘̲̥̬̺͉͉̯̘͕̹͍̾͐̓̏͌̈̓͂̚͜ͅͅ ̷̢̛̛͔̼̺͖̘͚͉͂̑̋̎̓̅̏͒̈́͌̊̒̂͌̄̓̋́̈́́̍́͗̈́͌͗̑̈́̊̋̇̀͗̉̄̆̎͆͑̉̿̐̄̈́̈̆̑͘̕̕̕̚͘͝­̡̼̼͉̮̩̱̹̖͙̩̜͓̬̯̘̹̝̼̝̟͔̯̮̫̞̫͚̻̰̳͎̻̬̠̪͈ ̶̢̥͎̩͕̟̰̞͖͎̰̥̻͕͙̞̲̙̯͓̟̯̩̏͂͗͌̃͒̂̎̔̀̍͊̓̎̐̊͛͌̈́͐̾́̚̕͝͝͠ ̷̧̡̨̬̙̤̭̪͉͉̩̲̟̪̼̩̰̣̦͎̦͍͚̣͙̬̺̹̝̘̜̬́͜ͅͅ ̷̨̢̳̻̮͇̹̠̙͓̠̞̭̲͙̩̘̪̙͉̟̙̭̺̫̫̰̠͚̞͉̤̙͖͉̺̹̭̥̔̏̑̀̽̏͑̄̈́̆̄̅͑͂̋̀́̒̆͒̚̕͜͝͝­̡̨͍͈͚̹̪̞̬̜̥̤̯̫̞̯̯̥̗̯̜̗̥͍͖̞̻͓̝̜͔̖͚͍̻̗̼͜͜ ̶̛̛͕̱̻͕̱̠̂̆͗͗̆̈́̓̊͆̒̐͑̉͊͌͌̐̊̽͂̿̿͑͂̊̑͋̿̂̆̍͐͗̈́͒͒͒̾̌̎͌̑̔̾̋̽͐̒̀̈́͌̕͘͜͠͠­̨̡̨̢̣̘̩̭̟̣̠̥̬̟̳̬̲̝̲̼̻̯̻̞͔̗̺̹̮͇̝̣̜͔̹̠̙͓̬̩͕͚̪̰͎̱̝̝̠͈͕̺̭͓̹̭̫̲̣̹͔̠͜͜ͅ­͚̦̗͙̰͓ͅ ̴̡̪̮̘̟̱̪̗̱̖̩̹̗̘̯̖̘̮͒́̔̍̊̐́̊̍͑̑͊͑̂͑͊͂̆̌̎̈́̏̄̉̏́̂̍̇͛̍͗́͆͜͜͜͜͠ͅͅ ̶̧̧̢̡̢̛͓͚̤̳̹̣͕̙͔̣̟̝̮̟͛̇͂͒̈́̈́̇͐̾̇̈́̑͗̿̒̿̍̏͆͛̔̐̀̀́́̀͆͋̑́̃̀̇͗͘̚͝͝͠͠͝ͅͅ­̧̡̤̦̼̗̣̜͍̭̫̗̩̫̠̱͍̻̼̘̳͕̞̺͇̲͖̣̭̱̬̣̞̳̟̜͙̣͓͓̘̺͇̠̺̱̩̹̟̗͍̥ͅ ̵̛̛͚͕̝͎̯̱̪͚̼̜̠̍̓̂̔͆̈͗̏̉̉̅̈́̀̇̄̔̇̐͆̀́̐̊͗͒̓͂̏̆́̈́̑̀́́̈́̎̊̍͑̓͛͋͒̉̕͘͠͝͝͠­̭̭͇̦̮̟̳̣̳͙̟̮̮̹̩̪͜ ̸̢̢̡̨̢̡̡̬̠̗̟̮̩̗̗͇̮͚̹͈̜̪͙͍͈̘̮̥̻̜͕͓̦̞̥̯̯̠͎͚̮̭̦̩͛̅͂̒͛̾̿͋̎̏̍͗̈́̂͋̓̈̇͘ͅ­̨̱̦͓̗̬̪͕̬̹̤̰͈̙̜ ̵̡̨͕͇͕͎͕̲͔̯̹͍̩̲͍̥̜͓̰͍̼̥̙͔͇̺͉̜͍̫͙̝͖̯̙͆͛̒̀̈́̌́̎̇̍͐̄͝͠”


Her howl  
                        becomes a dissonance
                                         that folds                     all existence.
She is a god without hands,                  screaming              at love           for having           fingers.

I hold him                         tighter.
Let her                    drown herself                      in                    her delusion.

I rise.

But I cannot                  
stand   any               
       longer.                                  

                          
   So                                        

I                       


      
dissolve.



Skin releases into air.
Hair vanishes into horizon-line.
Ribs fracture back into gust.
As I spiral upward.

And she closes her wound, a crashing sound that leaves no echo, just madness.

But it matters not what slander she aims toward the sky.

I am already gone.

I carry.

I return.

And she cannot follow.

And he will remember.


Just…

Just a moment…


Longer.
When we find something 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑟.
We may 𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑖𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑖𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑠, because it threatens our 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑒.
We may bury it, because our envy compels us to consume it.

Through the fourteenth descent, of 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑊𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑊𝑎𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔,
We retrieve it.
And hold onto it dearly,

Until it may be returned.

https://hellopoetry.com/collection/136314/the-wings-of-waiting/
 300° 
Yuzuko
I am not sure yet
is life even worth living
it just seems pointless
Life has given up on me... and me on it...
Its lissing a will
or am I?
 175° 
unknown
I love  "A"
I love the moment I saw you
The way your brown eyes meet mine
How the winter  wind moved your curls--
The moment was so perfect
the same way
The moment was perfect
When you said
"I love you."
For the first time
I love you, my love <A3
this is the first poem i ever wrote its dedicated to my bf who  has always had my back, and for that i thank you my love tqm <3
 153° 
Lyle
crying a river
so I can drown in it
building a bridge
so I can reach for someone's hand
as they get over it
and watch me drown
 138° 
Maria Etre
I have loved
the love
that never knew
real love
I have fallen for those whom have never been loved the way they deserve to be and I noticed that this is a recurrent thing - giving my heart the purpose of loving - since it's never been loved.
 133° 
Lynn Stillman
Pointless and inane.
Words said of my existence.
They don't define me.
 120° 
cianni
my teeth hurt
needs never met

an unknowing liability
eyes wide at life
and i do care


my feelings hurt
 120° 
Zywa
He wanted to romp

with me, that's what he called it --


and I was startled.
Autobiography "In den vreemde - Kronieken" ("In foreign parts - Chronicles", 2024, Frida Vogels), chapter 'Herbert' - May 23rd, 1976, Bologna (about the visit to Herbert Cohen [1931-2016] in Capelle aan den IJssel on Sunday, May 16th, 1976)

Collection "Trench Walking"
 103° 
S R Mats
My words in writing will sit with you, and
They will not judge.  

They listen when no one else listens.
They will hear what you wanted them to say.

Then speak them to your heart.
 92° 
Khadi Alza
Her days
Is her pain.
Did some blackout poetry the other day.
 89° 
Yashkrit Ray
Unforgettable
Eternal, boundless, heartfelt
A final goodbye
 89° 
Nat Lipstadt
Legalize/Sell you a disease
/then,  sell you a cure*

"Venture Capital Bet Big on Gambling.
Now It’s Banking on the Addictions."
Barron's
Ah, capitalism,
ya gotta love it…
Shades of fentanyl
 88° 
zenith
I’d be with you, It’d be you,
standing under a dim streetlamp
fallen stars turned into streetlamps, still aching to shine
yeah they look like stars to me,
deep soft wind tugging at your hair
phones in our pockets, buzzing with nothing
I’d  really feel sorry for myself for being this delusional
me standing under a dim streetlamp alone
It’d be me watching the fallen stars all alone
I’d heal, I’d fade with this void feeling
rather I’d be playing “Dreaming of you
 88° 
Simon De Beugher
To learn a thing and implement,
You have to learn to reinvent.

The older trend of lyrics sing,
the way I learned when teacher king.

It’s time I learned to do my own thing instead.
This is the way I speak it.

So here it is, world.
Are you proud?
 87° 
Christian Platts
Walking down the lane.
A tension in my stomach.
I arrive on time.
 85° 
Karen
Deep the rose unfolds
In the silence shadows speak
Love can come with thorns
 83° 
Courtney Hawkins
what a beautiful
tragedy
my love for you,
so strong,
it can destroy
my very
core
...
I'm hopeless.
 82° 
Eryck
I found a scribbled piece of paper on my coat,
The wife wrote, "pick up some CANDLES" in a note.
I thought it said "CANDIES" hoping to discover,
that we finally would have candies,
In our cupboard.
So I bought in a rush:
Snickers, Abba Zabba, Milky Way, Three Musketeers, Reeses peanut butter cups, M&Ms, Almond Joy, Milk Duds, laughy Taffy....and such.
I called her and told her all the candies I bought,
She said, "CANDLES, stupid", so I hung up.
 77° 
Nat Lipstadt
every poem gets the exact number
of reads it deserves
<>

nah, I don't think that for
a millisecond,
shoot,
not a ****** nanosecond (1)

truthfully
I'm torn up inside
and my thinking
absolutely
could be wrong
or could be right
absolutely

just like the optionality
of believing in god;
has to be some force
of intelligence that
could create such
microscopic complexity randomly
or just thinking the world
is just a series of accidentally
interactions

so
who's to say what's good,
what's not so good,
and by what standard
one should judge

Is this a poem?
Heck if I know

and what sbout the poems that
get not a one,
a single one, absence of curiosity,
an unheralded execution.
death by silent ignorance,
a master's mastery of exactitude
all because
just because

Is that a collective decision
by an unconscious collective,
the best moderne equivalent of
the unmarked death

of just a single one of
your billions of brain cells (2)(3)

all I know is
that my confusion is confirmed
my constancy is inconsistent
my equatorial balance is
gonzo, dragging me down,
each division wants to piece me up,
and today,
right now
got no answers
at all

how do I define myself?
what categories do I fit
within?

and yet
that answers one question!

do not write interrogatory inquisitions
at 1:15 am
(unless you're a DUMB lucky *******
who believes they got
answers
)
(1)
a nanosecond is significantly smaller than a millisecond. Specifically, there are one million (1,000,000) nanoseconds in a millisecond
(2)
A human brain contains approximately 86 billion neurons. Additionally, there are roughly the same number of non-neuronal cells called glia. In total, the human brain is estimated to have around 170 billion cells.
(3)
During brain development, many more neurons are produced than are ultimately needed. Around half of these neurons die off before and shortly after birth, according to Harvard Gazette(they probably just made it up)
 77° 
paul sheridan
wanted to write something upon
westminster bridge
but since wordsworth had already scuppered me
completely
I went back to the pub    ..
 74° 
Thanu
I painted his nails hot pink,
called it a joke,
but we both held on
too long.

He hummed my favorite song,
two notes behind,
like catching up
was close enough.

He carried me upstairs once —
said I was light.
I believed him.

The polish chipped.
We didn’t.

Now,
he’s a voice
I scroll past,

and somewhere,
a pair of chipped pink nails
he never scrubbed off
it was OPI polish, long lasting, but somehow didnt last enough.
 70° 
V3NUS
when i say that im not pretty
i really mean it
i've never actually look in the mirror
and think i look pretty

my lips look too big
my eyes too small
my jaw too soft
my nose just not right

i don't mean to be that girl
i don't mean to fish for compliments
i just want someone to tell me im pretty
so i know what i think is just me
i swear on my life i'm not a pick me
 67° 
pretzz
Always present when in need,
Some may think it's for me.
When all of it are just out of greed,
All masked for all to see.
Wanted to write :)
 66° 
M Elee
Do not call me a martyr
Jesus never had to learn how to spell risperidone
Carbidopa levodopa, sertraline, donepezil
Glycopyrrolate, atorvastatin, allopurinol,
Mirabegron, and metoprolol.
Do not call me a martyr
I have never turned water to wine,
I have turned hallucinations into day dreams
And nightmares into fantasies
Do not call me a martyr
Do not confuse washing the feet of the disciples
To laundering ****-soaked sheets
And drool-dampened clothes
Do not call me a martyr
Jesus was never in hell
And I have sinned.
 66° 
LiesBeneath
I want to walk away
I want to leave today
This fault
I am not fine

I created the chain reaction
I long this immense retribution
I make mistakes but dont learn
I ramble to the poem as if it makes a differences

I know it doesn’t
But what can I do
What can I write
I do not know
How to express
This dark night

For now I wish to disappear but even that makes me tremble in fear.
 62° 
nivek
dearest love
a jumbled ask

needs already known
needs must

a supplication
a shared love.
 62° 
Steve Page
Poems are released
In The Round, in full circle,
To come back around.
Our local open mic for poetry, is now 'in the round'. It feels in better shape.
last night the wind had its way  
with this world

it waved and clapped its hands
and skeletons of umbrellas
  
were broken and inoperable
they fell to the wet earth

and were whisked away
it snapped its fingers
  
and bicycles and plant pots
lost their balance

and were unable
to right themselves

take the time
to tamper

with what is wild
be sure

to take your turn
to touch

what is waiting
 59° 
Mitch Perito
Little owl,
Little owl.

How graceful can you be?
So I went to the forest for me too see.

There, I saw the little owl fly,
as it spread it's wings under the night sky.
This was a poem I wrote during my middle school years :), hope you enjoy!
 56° 
LL
and I find rest in
knowing that you're the keeper
of the rest of me ☄
2025/108
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