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Dios Dormer  Apr 2015
Ode to Joel
Dios Dormer Apr 2015
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E͝L̈ ̭̳ͥJ̡OͦE͖L᷾ ͎JͨO᷉E͐Ļ ͦJ͒O̐E̚L̳ ͋J͕O͖E͕L᷇ ᷊JͬȮẼL̊ ̄J̳ĖL̇ ͡J̶ͫ᷅L͉
͟JͬO͑ḘL᷊̤̄᷾ͭ ̇J᷊OͥEͣL͢ ̵J͊O̻E͢L̴̸̆ ᷁L͠ ̆J̒ỎE᷄L̋᷈͛ ̟J̉O̭᷈̑E̍L̲ ͘JͮO̱E͚L̜ ̯J̰O͘E͊L̀ ̧̪᷅̏͘J͘OͬE̦L̝ ̓J̑Õ̧ͯE᷄L̎ ̺J̯ÓE͜L̒ ̟J̾O̔EͅLͩO᷂ÈL͚ ̑J̌L͡ ̤J᷾O͑E͐L͘ ͡J̧O̟E̗Lͯ ͣJ̟Oͭ ͙E͢L͓ ̪J̨O͆E̶Ḻ ̬JͪÒ̠᷀᷁᷀ĘL̇ ̑J͓O̯
E̪L͌ ̪̾̇J͗OͫE͉L̏E͝L̈ ̭̳ͥJ̡OͦE͖L᷾ ͎JͨO᷉E͐Ļ ͦJ͒O̐
E̚L̳ ͋J͕O͖E͕L᷇ ᷊JͬȮẼL̊ ̄J̳ĖL̇ ͡J̶ͫ᷅L͉ ͟JͬO͑ḘL᷊̤̄᷾ͭ ̇J᷊OͥEͣL͢ ̵J͊O̻E͢L̴̸̆ ᷁L͠ ̆J̒ỎE᷄L̋᷈͛ ̟J̉O̭᷈̑E̍L̲ ͘JͮO̱E͚L̜ ̯J̰O͘E͊L̀ ̧̪᷅̏͘J͘OͬE̦L̝ ̓J̑Õ̧ͯE᷄L̎ ̺J̯ÓE͜L̒ ̟J̾O̔EͅLͩO᷂ÈL͚ ̑J̌L͡ ̤J᷾O͑E͐L͘
͡J̧O̟E̗Lͯ ͣJ̟Oͭ ͙E͢L͓ ̪J̨O͆E̶Ḻ ̬JͪÒ̠᷀᷁᷀ĘL̇ ̑J͓O̯E̪L͌ ̪̾̇J͗OͫE͉L̏

Ę̏͝L̈̔̚ ̸̭̳̺ͬ̋ͥJ̡̼̉O᷃ͦ̔E̜͖ͯL̛᷾͟ ͎͉͢J̧̬ͨO̗᷉͂E̛̙͐Ļ̦ͭ ̸̼ͦJ͙͒ͦO͈̐᷾E͓̅̚L̳̳̒ ᷉͋ͥJ͕̐͞O͉͖ͫE͕͒᷈L᷿̱᷇ ̧᷊̥J̴̰ͬȮ̺̏E᷄̃̋L̂̊̌ ̳͆̄J͓̳̙Ë̇͜
L̡̇͛ ͔̣͡J̶̖̱ͫͤ̇᷅L͉̽̐ ̡̓͟J̼̽ͬǪ͎͑Ḙ̣̌L᷊̼̹̤᷉̈́̄᷾ͭ̃̎ ̨ͯ̇J̺᷊̳Ǫͥ̈́E̶᷉ͣL̫͙͢ ̵̠͒J̞͛͊Ö̼̻E̵̻͢L̴̸͎͙̆̒̚ ̬͛᷁L̙̃͠ ̟̿̆J̨̒̿Ỏ͚᷀E᷃᷄͡L̴̨̰̰̋᷈͛ ͖̟̠J̗̉̚O̭̅̓᷈ͧ̑̑E̸̵̍L̲̥͡ ̫͋͘J̰ͮͅŐ̴̱E̥͚̝L̜᷃͟ ̝̯̟J̰̈́̾O̪͎͘É͙͊L̓̀᷆ ̧̪͔̲ͨ᷅̏͘͘͜͞J᷿͘̚O̯ͬ͟E̦̮͆L̦̝̞ ͂̓᷁J̖̳̑Ò̧̃ͫͯ̄̕E̠̥᷄L̓̎ͨ ̺̻᷉J̯̈̓Ó̴̃E̱͜͏L̿̒͆ ̵̟᷀J͓̾͜O̺᷁̔ẼͅͅL̃ͩͯO̵᷂᷾Eͦ̀͒L̼͚̔
͖̾̑J̸̌ͧL̙͛͡ ̤ͩ᷄J̏᷾̿O̡͑͝E̞᷿͐L̤̋͘ ̟᷁͡J̧̔̕O͏̟͜E᷿̗̯L̊ͯ̑ ̏ͣ͡J̵̟͝O͆ͭ͛ ̢͙͟Ẻ͊͢L͓̾͢ ̪ͩ͞J̨ͣͯO͈͖͆E̶̬̍Ḻ̝᷆ ̴̧̬J̶̛ͪ
Ò̢̰̪̠ͧ᷀᷁̑᷀ͮĘͥ͋Lͩ̇ͭ ̳̑ͧJ̵͚͓Ő̯̈́E̸̪᷅
L᷅͌͌ ̪̹ͧ̓̾̇ͣJ̴̶͗O̖͖ͫE̮͉̎L̬̏̒
L̸̸̤̑᷃̇̑ ̢̱͇̑̾̑̿J̎̑͗͏̒̑᷀Ọ͙̼ͭ̑͑̑Ȇ̥̬̞́̑͡Ḻ̵̙̑̍̑̔ ̷̙̱̑ͤ̊̑J̭͆̑̉̑᷅͢O̵͎ͨ̑̎̑̕E̛᷊ͭ̑̏̋̑L̨͙̑̏̑̕͡ ̗̤̑᷄̑̚͝J̥᷀̑ͪ᷆̑ͦO̥͕̒̑᷾̋̑Ė͕̞̑᷄̈́̑L̢͔̑ͮ̈ͤ̑
̲͖̄̑ͪ̑᷃Ļ̷̑́̈̑᷀ ̥̟̌̑ͪͬ̑J̡͉̑̔̑͢͡Ȏ̷̗̀̔̑̏E̎̑᷅̓̑͘ͅḶ̑ͮͫ̉̑᷇ ̷̟̑̑̀͘͞J̖᷅̑̈́̿̑͘Ǫ̘᷿͚̑ͩ̑Ȇ̼̯͚ͤ͒̑L̤̑̈᷅̑̑̈ ̘̝̑͏̘̋̑J͏̨̑ͦ᷅̑᷇Ơ͍͓ͦ̑ͭ̑Ȩ͕͎̑̽̑᷅L̖̤᷂̑̓̑̏ ͓̟͚̑̍̑͢J̰͍̝̑̑̑ͪO̪̳͈͂̑̑ͨE̬͉̭᷄̑ͤ̑
L̵̻̀̑̈͒̑ ̨̞̲̖̝̟̱̺̰̑̑̑͛̑ͯJ̠̑ͥ̂̑̉̚Ȏ̤̻ͨ̾̑ͩḘ̴̬̽̑̅̑L̡̩̞̮̜̑̑ ̳̦̱̥̑̂̑J̷̢̬̪̑̒̑Ȏ̬̰̰̑᷾̕Ȇ̛̝̤̪̉̑L̸̖̣̑̄̑̔ ͉ͦ̑ͪͬ̑̾Jͫ̑̓ͤ͐̑̊Ơ̴̧̆̑͐̑E͎̍̑̐̑ͪ͠L̤̖͗̑ͭ̑͢ ̟̲̪̑̄ͫ̑J͓̭̑᷃̈̑᷇Ȏ̘᷂͚̑̿͝Ȇ̷̵̺᷂̑͛L̸̢͖͂̑͋̑O͂̑̋͏̓̑ͥE̺͔̼̽̑᷆̑L̢̎̑͗̌ͨ̑ ̵̤̬͊̑͌̑J̪̮̓̑̔̑͋L͉̳̑̓̽̑ͧ ͏̑᷈͒ͦ̑̂J͒̑ͧ᷆̑̀͡Ȏ͇᷾̑͂͢͡E͏͔̑̓̎̑ͩḶ͈̑ͭͩ͒̑ ̴̞̑͒͊̑ͅJ̮̘̘̗̑̑͗Ȏ̠̲̟ͨͧ̑Ḛ̶̑ͩͩ̑͡L͔᷆̑͊̑́͜ ̢̩̬̑͒̑᷃J̜᷁̑ͪ̑᷉͝Ȏ̴̝̼͈͇̑ ̤̖̑ͣ̑̆̚E̱͔᷃̑̀̑᷇L͎᷿̑̓̑͆ͅ ̱̓̑ͤ̊̈̑J̶̢͍͉̑͒̑Ȏ̵̜̼͆ͣ̑E͙̒̑͂᷈̑ͫL̰͙͓᷊̑̑͟ ͔͖̑ͩ̾̑̉J̘̜͑̑̍̑͑O̯̓̑̋ͩ̑͜Ȇ͇̲̥͂͊̑L̫̑᷈̉̑̚͠ ͉̈́̑͐͐ͮ̑J̟᷂̞͇̑ͭ̑O̪̊̑̑͐͘͢E̞̬ͯ̑ͭ̑͑L̰̫͋̑̑͌͝ ᷂͔͕̻̑̍̑J̲̣̳͖̑͆̑Ő̹̥̑᷈̑̆Ḙ̴᷊̑͒̑͞L̷̵̟̲̑͌̑ ̧̑̍̑̚͟͞J͖̑́᷉ͩ̑ͥǪ̖̯̜̎̑̑Ȇ̶͕͏̤ͫ̑L̠̞᷂̺̑̿̑ ̵᷊̑͑͊̑ͅJ̪ͧ̑᷃ͦ̑ͧȆ̺᷆᷇̑᷅̕L̪͖͆̑͋ͤ̑ ̡᷿̑̏ͩ̑͢J̳͚̑ͯ̌̑̎L̯᷂̻̦͇̑̑ ̬̼̑͂̉̑̅J̻̑᷾ͮ͊̑᷇O̲᷇̑̈́̑̑᷅

Eͥ̑̓ͧ̑̾͢L̶̷̞̑̒̑͢ ᷂̦̑̏᷆̑̒J̙͕̮̓̑̑̚Ő̑ͪ̎ͮ̑᷄E᷅̑ͤ᷀ͪ̑͋Ļ̢̪̑̆̑͂ ᷿͇̑͋̑͂̚J̥̍̑̋ͨ̑̈́Ọ͙͕͒̑̑̏E̡̎̑̔͌̑᷄L̹͖̬̓̑ͣ̑ ̨̼̑͋᷉̑͐L̻᷿̑̊͂̑᷁ ̭̟̟̑᷁͊̑J̡̛᷿̑ͨ̈̑O̙͗̑̂̑̎͞Ȇ̮̪̬̿̑̌L̜᷅̑͆ͧ̓̑ ̠̑̑̆̚͘͝J̑̈́͋̑͛͜͜Ȏ̵̝̺̪̀̑Ȩ͓̺̑́̋̑L̶̟᷉̑̓̑́ ̣̯̑̾̑̌̚J͔͔̟̑̈̑ͅȎ̷̥̥̃̓̑Ḛ̴᷊᷁̑̊̑L̘ͨ̑͒̑̏̕ ̣̰̼᷉̑ͪ̑J͋̑̃̑̌͡͠Ȏ̻̣̜̉́̑Ȇ̥̘̯̩᷈̑L͖ͪ̑̐ͫ̑ͯ ̛̲̼͗̑̑͡J̛ͧ̑͂̇͑̑Ȏ̴͈͎᷄͒̑Ȇ̝͎ͯ͑̑͏L̩̪̑̋͂̑͋ ̵̑᷁ͬ̀̑͟J͕͉̾̑̿̑ͩƠ̝͚̫̑̑̆Ȇ̞̈́ͭ̑̉͡L̞̫̱̑ͥ̑͟ ̜̑̃̑̔̚͟J̑͢͏̘̑᷇ͅO̖͓͊̑᷅̑ͬ
Ȇ̖̘̺̿ͩ̑L̙̪̲̑̔ͫ̑ ̢ͦ̑̽̑̄͠J͎͖᷃̑᷈ͭ̑O̝᷊ͬ̑͂̈́̑Ę͇̥᷆̑̑̍L͖̓̑̐̄ͦ̑Ȏ̧͇̻ͫ̑̇Ḛ̹ͩ̑͑̑̓L̵̢̥̑᷉̑͜ ̑̔̐̍̑͑͢J̶̑̇́̑͝ͅL͖̰ͨ̑ͫ̑ͅ ̛̟̑ͮ̑̽͜J̦͕ͦ̑ͭ̑͆Ȏ̪͓̈́ͭ̃̑Ȇ͙͚̼ͯ̑᷀L̷͖̺̞̑͌̑ ͙᷀̑᷄᷾ͦ̑J̸͉͉᷅̑᷆̑O̢̟̽̑͛̑͟Ȇ̙̰̏͌̑̔L͕̗̟͉̑᷉̑ ͮ̑̑ͪ̑͗͟J̛̼̑͆̑͑͜O̵̜ͧ̑̄̑͘ ͚͋̑᷈ͥ̑͂E̠͇̎̑ͯ̑ͬL̜̪̑ͩ͋ͩ̑ ̶̷͚̑̑͟͞J̷̮᷊̇̑̊̑Ȏ̭͍̤̮̑͋Ĕ͖̫̮̑ͧ̑L̳̳̦̑͆̑͋ ͈̝͆̑᷆̑͜J̫᷾̑̃͒̑ͣȎ̶̍͐̑᷄͝Ę̖᷆̑̄̑̏L͈̑᷀ͬ̑᷀͜ ̢̩̮͚͈̑̑J͈͛̑̅̐̑͜Ȏ̗͍᷀ͦ̑̑E̴͇ͮ̑᷀̑͡L̖̼̺̑̈́͑̑ ̨̫̱̩̑᷄̑J͗̑ͣ̊᷆̑ͅȎ͍ͧͦ̀̑͢Ȇ̳᷊᷅̾̑̓Ļ̴̡̼̑̑͞ ̹͗̑̽͛̑͝J̸̠̘̑᷉̑̽Ȏ̷̝̻᷉̑̽Ȇ͎̠̍̓̑͡L̷̴͎̭̑ͩ̑ ̦̠̣̌̑̑᷇J͚ͨ̑᷈ͯ̑͞Ȇ̥̦̓͛̑͠Ļ̑ͬ̓̈́̑͟ ̢͓̑̓̑͝͠Ȩ̵᷿̠̽̑̑ ̔̑͛᷈̑᷁͞J̥̩̑̓̿̑͜O̵͔̊̑᷾̑̑Ę̳̈́̑̄̑ͭL̷͔̑ͩ᷀̑͢ ̷͇̑͌̍̑͘J̧̺̑̀᷄̑ͤỌ̡̒̑ͧ̀̑E͎ͫ̑᷄̒̑̋ ̮̂̑᷇̒̑̔J̷̻͕̑͒̑᷉Ȏ̸̳͓̭͐̑E̴ͩ̑̋ͬ̑͋Ḻ᷊̑̂̌̑̉
L̸̸͎̝̤᷿ͬ̀̑ͭ᷃̓̇͗̑ ̸̢̧̱͇̭̽̑̌̑̾̑̿̕͜J̪̯̎̑̾͗͝͏̸̘̒̐̑᷀͘O͚̺̣͇͙͕̼᷊ͭ̑͑᷁̑ͬ͘E̝̥̬̞͉᷉̑͆́͑͗̑͟͡͠L̿­̵̨̱̙᷂̈̑ͦ̂ͪ̍̑̔᷾ ̷̙̱̞̘̥̑̑᷉᷈ͤ᷃̊̑͠J̴̸̨̣̗̭̹͆̑̈́͐̉̑᷅͢O̴̵͎ͨ̑ͯ̎̾ͧ̑̏͐̕͟͞Ę̛᷊̥̼᷊ͭͧ̑̑̏̋̑̒͡Ḷ­̨̼͙̘̫̑̏ͤ̑̓͘̕͡͝ ̤̮̰̗̤͇̮̑᷁̊᷄̑᷁̚͝J̙̥͖͍ͦ᷀̑̌ͫͪ᷆̑ͮͦ͝Ỏ̥̺̥͕̭͕̒̑᷾͐̋͒̑͝Ė̶̸͕̞̑͂᷄̃ͭ̈́̑᷉ͦͅL͌­̸̢̙̬͔̑ͮ͑̈ͤ᷆̑̿̄ ̷̲͖̔̄͐̑̒ͪ͊̒̑᷃͝͞Ļ̷̭̳̪͎̑́̓̈̑̈́᷀͡ͅ ͉̥̖̩͇̟͙̽̌̑̌ͪͬ̑͝J̵̡͉̰̀̑̔̔ͩ̑᷁͢͢͢͡Ơ̷̧̤̗̬͇̘̑̔̀̉̔̑̏E̶̢͙̘͈̎̑̍᷅̓̑ͪ̚͘ͅL͉­̴̣̮̝̑ͮͫͮ̉̈̑ͬ᷇᷉ ̷̞͕̰̟̇̑ͯ̅̑̈́̀ͦ͘͞J̵̷̶̝̖᷅̑̈́᷾̿̏̑̂͘ͅǪ̱̪̘᷿̤͚̀̑̄᷾ͩ̉̑͛Ȇ̢̼̯̯̺᷿̻͚̌ͤ͒̓̑͘L̰­̤̙͎̑̀̈᷅̅̑̑̑ͨ̈͝ ͉̘̦̝̑͒ͅ͏͕̘̋᷀̑᷾̈J͈͏̨̣̹̩̑ͦ̉̋᷅᷇̑᷇̄Ơ̮͍͙͎͓ͦ̄̑᷆ͭ͆̑ͪ͡Ȩ̛͕̭͎̭̽͆̑̑᷄̽᷀̑᷅L̝­̧̖̫̤᷂̑͐̓̅͋̑̏̋͡ ̷̱͓̤̱̫̟̖̘͚͈̑̍̑͢J͈̰̳͍̘̝̤̲̑᷇̑̑᷄ͪ͝O̡̫̪̹̳͈̤̬͂͗̑̆̑ͨ̚Ȩ̦̬̻͉̟̭᷄̑̽ͤ̑͛̉͟L̘­̵̥͖̻̥̀̑̈̾͒͋̑͋͝ ̸̨̗̞̦̲̖̝̟̱̝̺̰̳̦̊̑ͦ̑̽᷈̑̊͛̑͗ͯͦ̚͢͜J̧̪̠͂̑ͪͥ̎̂̑̾̉ͧ̚ͅǪ̺̤̼̻̃̑ͨ̾᷉᷾̑̒ͩ̍E̬­̴̸͎̹̭͈̬͍̽̑ͨ̅̍̑L̡̢̩̞̮᷊̜̆̑͛̓̑̓̿͝ ̶̳̦̱̥͓᷇ͦ̑᷁̂̂̑̾ͅ
J̷̢̨̝̬̪̑͌̐̒̀̊̑̅͜Ó̦̬̳̰̺̰͚̆̑̑᷾̕͘͜Ȩ̸̡̛̝̻̤̪̑᷃̉᷀̑͛͢L­̸̛̠̺̖̩̣̮̉̑̄̌̑̔͠ ̡͉̱ͩͦ̏̑᷉ͪ̀ͬ̑ͥ̾͝J͉ͫ᷀̑̓͟͏͎͇ͤ͐̑̒̊̾Ơ̴̧̥̜̝̹̆̑͐ͮͯ̑ͥ̕E̸̗͎͎͇̍̑ͭͧ̐̑ͪ᷾͘͠L̆­͉̠̤͖̖͗̑̋ͭ᷆̑᷈̕͢ ̟̹̲᷂͉̪͉͆ͬ̑᷄̄ͫͥ̑J͓̳̗̭̱̬̓̋̑᷃̃̈᷀̑᷇Ơ̘͇᷂͚͓̯̅̑᷉ͭͫ̑̿͝Ẻ̷̵̛̺̱᷂̜̘᷊̑̎̑͛͆L̖­̴̸̢͖͖͂ͨ̑̓͋͒̑̊͟O͎͔͂͂ͣ̑̋͏̧᷿̓᷆̑̓ͥȨ̷̯̺͔̼͆̽̑̄᷆᷀̑͞͡L̢᷂̯̙̗ͧ̎̑͗́̌ͨͮ̑͞ ̴̵̣̤̰̻̱̬͊̌̑͌̑ͥ̕J̘̪̮̙͎̣͐̓᷾̑̔̑ͩ̑͋L̵̴͉͚̳̬̃̿̑̓̽̈́̑̀ͧ ̶͏̹̲̪̑᷈ͨ͒ͦͤ̑̂ͣ͠J̸̳̗͙ͯ͒̑ͧ̑᷆̎͆̑̀͡O̶͇͙͚͗̑ͮ᷾̐́̑͂͢͜͡E͉͏͔͑̑ͣ̓ͤ̎̏̑̀ͩͤ̚L̴­̣̬̻̯͈̑ͭ̎ͩ͒̏̑̌̉ ̴̧̫̞ͣ̑᷇ͥ͒ͨ͊̑᷆ͭͅJ̮̊̑̕͏̸̘̘̗̯̂ͫ̑͗̓O̠͔̲̟ͤ̽̑̀ͨͧ͛ͪ̑͊̐Ȇ̶̪̰̩͉̟̎ͩ̂ͩ̔̑͞͡L̋­̷͖͔͉̟̹᷆̑͊̑́͐̚͜ ̸̢̛̩̬͇̻̔᷆̑͒͗̑᷃ͧJ̟̱̰̙̜̻͎᷁̑̏ͪ̑᷉̂͝O̴̝͍̜̼͈͇̤ͫ̑ͥ̂̑̎͠ ͇̤̺̖̣̭̑᷆ͣ᷾̏̑̆̚͞Ḙ᷿͔̱͔̲̝᷃̑̾̀̑᷈᷇᷉L̬͎̥͈͚̼᷿̫̑̓᷈̑͆͛ͅ ͉͉̱̬̽̓ͪ̑ͫͤ̊̈̀̑͟J̶̢̡͍͉͇͋̽̑̌᷁͒᷾̑̂Ǫ̵̜̼͆͌̑̀ͯ͆ͣͮ̑̐᷈E̘͙͕͍͕̅̒̑͂̾᷈̑ͫ͋͟Ḷ­̰̟͙͚͓᷊͔̈́̑᷇̽̑͆͟ ̰͔͖̲͙᷄̑ͨͩ̾̑̉ͪ͢͠J̛̺͔̘̜̙͓ͯ͑̑ͤ̍̑͑̎O͎̯̯ͫ̓̓̑̽̂̋᷾ͩ̑ͮ͜E͇̲̼̥᷉ͥ̑᷇̎͂͊̔̑ͭͬL᷾­̫̹͔̠̟̑᷈̉᷉̑᷃᷄̚͠ ᷿̗̣̣͉̈́̑᷃͐ͨ͐̑ͮ̑͛J̢̳̟᷂̰̞͇̖̑̿ͭ̽̑͜͠O̵̟̞̫̪̳̊᷅̑͊̊̑͐͘͢E̼̻̞̬͈ͯ̑᷆ͫ͗ͭ̑̋͑͆L̡­̰̫̥̦͋́̑̽̌ͥ̑͌̚͝ ̶᷂͔͕̻᷅̈̑͆ͥ̍̐̑ͨͅJ͖̲̣̳͖̦ͫ̑̇͆ͨͪ̑ͭ͢O̹͕̥͇̻̫᷁̋̐̑͒᷈͐̑̆E̴̖̭̻᷊̦͑̑̄̀͒̈́̑͋͞L͌­̷̵̟̼̲̑̌̌͌᷾̈́̑̒͟ ̧̠̭̮̱̰ͭ̑̍ͨ̔̑̚͟͞J̷͖̪͉᷿͛̑̈́᷉̅ͩ̑̔ͥO̢̝̎̑͏̢̨̖̯̙̜̘̳̑ͅȆ̶͙͕᷊̙̊͏᷿͔̤ͫͮ̑ͥL̵­̠͔̞᷂᷂͕̺͂̑ͣ̿͆̑ͬ ̶̵᷊̌᷅̑̇͑͊᷃͏̣͚̑ͅJ͖͓̪͎̣̻᷀ͧ̑᷃ͯͦ᷁̑ͧȄ̪̣̼̺̮́̑᷆᷇̑̀᷅᷉̕L͓̪᷿͖̐͆᷅̑͋ͤͦ᷀̑̄͘ ̡̨̡᷂̟᷿̇͂̑͛̏ͦͩ̑͢J̢̳͚̪̱̌̃̑᷇ͯ̆̌̓̑̎L̡̯̯᷂̻̦͍͓͇̋̑́̑͜͢ ̴̬̩̼̖͔́̑᷁͂̉̇̑̅̅J̛᷿̻̲͙͚̑̽᷾ͧͮ̋͊̑᷇O̻̲̖᷄᷇ͪ̑̈́̄̑ͦ̑̉᷅ͫȨ̵̜ͥ̑̔̓ͨͧ͐̑ͪ̾᷃͢L̗­̶̷̧̘̞̍̑̏̒᷉͋̑͢ͅ ᷊᷂̲͓̑̏͏̜̦̥̻᷆̑᷉̒J̧̙͕͎̮̗͋̓̔̑͛̃̑͂̚O̷̯᷊̐̋̅̑́ͪ̎ͮ̑᷄̎͜E̶͖̯̳᷅̑ͤ᷇᷀́ͪ̐̑̇͋L̖­̷̧̢̟̪᷊̑ͯ᷄̆̅̑ͩ͂ ̸̨̡᷿̩͇ͮ̑᷁̓͋̑̂͂̚J̶̧̝̥̼̥̍̑̈̋᷆ͨͫ̑̈́Ọ̧̡͙͕͍̽͒᷆̑ͣ̊̌̑̏E̡̲̹̎᷃̑͏̶̠̔̽͌̑̒᷄L͍­̧͖̹̪͖̜̪̬̓͂̑ͣ᷉̑ ̨̼̱᷿̭͎̀̑͋᷉͒̑͊͐̚L͙̻̞᷿̟͈ͧ̑᷁̊͂᷃̑᷁͟ ̭̫̟̩͎̟̥᷁̅̑᷁͊̑́̚J̡̛̙̠͕᷿᷾̑ͨ̍̈̏̑̇̚O̯̙᷂̦͇̓͗̑᷀̂̀̑̉̎͞E̸̴̱̮̪̝͖̬ͮ̑̿᷉̑̌̅L᷁­͈̝̘̜᷅᷁̑͆ͧ̓ͮ̑᷾͢ ̛̹̠͕ͫͨ̑ͧ̑̆̌̚͘͝͝J̛̳̤̺̿̑ͨ̈́ͣ͋̑̽͛͜͜Ȏ̵̰̮̝̺̘̪͆̀͗̑ͣ͘͘Ȩ̺͙͓̗̺̑͐́͂̋ͫ̑᷀ͥL᷾­̶̜̟᷊̯̜͎᷉̑̓̒̑́͝ ̜̣̯̳̪̫͑̑ͭ̾͛̑̌̚͘J̼͔̹͔̟᷅᷆̑ͩ̈᷅̑̅᷃ͅO̷̡̥̮̥̯͆̑ͥ̃᷆̓ͪ̑ͅË̴̦᷊̰᷊͓̮́᷁̑̊̑̂̚͟L̊­̸̘̫᷿ͨ̑͒͒̆̑̏̕̚͠ ̷̮̣̯̰̙̼̤͐᷉̋̑ͪ̑͌J͉ͨ͋̾̑̉̃ͪ͌̑̌ͬ͡͠͠O̻̫̣̜̞ͥ᷈̑́̉͂́ͣ̑᷁Ȅ̥̲̘̯̳̦̩̑̀͆᷈̑ͬ͟L͌­̛͖̦̘̘ͪ̑̐ͬͫ᷀̑ͯ͢ ̨̛̲͇̼̽͗̎̑ͨͩͫ̑͢͡J̸̛̺̔ͧ̑͂ͪ̇͗͑́̑̐̽O̴̸̷̘͈̮͎̾̑᷄ͬ͒̑̌͟E̝͍̣͎᷾̒̑ͯ͑᷄᷆̑ͩ͏͘L͌­̩̪͉͍̓̑ͤ̋᷆͂̑͋̎͟ ̵̦̦᷊᷊̑̇᷁ͬ᷈̀̑ͨ᷄͟J͍̯͕͉̾ͣ̑̿᷅͋̑̍ͩ᷅͡Ơ̶᷂̝͚̫̘̑ͮ̀̑͞͏̆͡Ȇ̢̛̞̬̞̦̭̈́ͣ̀ͭ̑̉͡Ḽ­̶̷̞̫̱̑ͧ̒ͥ͛̑͂̃͟ ̛̗̝̜̻͚̑̿̃̑̔̒̚͟ͅJ̩̺̲̑͢͏̛̘͗̅͑̑᷇͠ͅO̴̖͓̻̓͊̆̑͆͂ͧ᷅̑́ͬE̵̛̖̘̘̮̺͑̑̿̿ͤͩ̑͟L̾­̙̩̪̲̙ͨ̑̔̎ͫ͂̑̑͜ ̷̢̡̖̖᷿̲ͦ̾̑̽̑̄͠͠Ĵ̹͓͎͖᷃̅̑᷈ͭ̑̂͜͢͡O̷͓̝̪᷊͊ͬ̌̑͂᷅̈́̑̓̂Ę̭͇͓̥̖̐᷆̒̑̓͒̑̍ͣLͧ­̶̶͍̥͖̓̿̑̐̄́ͦ̑᷃Ȏ̶̡̧͓͇̻̖̆ͫ͐̑̿̇͡E̫̪̲̥̰͚̹͓͕ͩ̑͑̑̓̏L̷̵̢̞̥᷂̄̑ͫ᷉᷃ͮ̑͜͞ ̷̜̤̌̑̐̔̐̄̍̑᷇͑͐͢J̶̻̳̑̇᷀́̊̑ͫ͘͝ͅͅͅL̬͖͍̫̰ͨ᷇̑̽ͫ᷇̑᷅̐ͅ ̸̴̛̲̟᷉̑̍́ͮͯ̑̽̚͜J̼̦͕ͦ̑᷄̈́̅ͭ̇̑ͤ͆ͬ͝Ȏ̪̝̮̳̖͓̑̈́ͭ́̃̃̑̾Ê̵͙̩͚̼̼̹̑ͬ᷄ͯ̑᷀ͨL͌­̶̷̨͖̺̞͎̞̣̑͌̉̑͝ ̧̣̮̟͙᷀̑̂᷄᷾̇ͦ̑̔͟J̸̢̻͉͉̥̉᷅̑᷆ͥ̆ͪ̑͡O̢̟ͧ̽̉̑᷾͛᷄̑᷀ͭ͘͟͟E̙̘̗̰͍͉ͪ̑̏͌̑ͣ̔́̕L̞­͕̩̗̟̗͉͑̑᷉̓᷈̑ͪ͠ ̟̭̤͉ͮ̑̄̑ͪͥ͊̑͗᷇͟J̸̛̫̼̣̳̑̑̊͐͆ͬ̑͑͗͜Ọ̵̜ͨͧ᷉̑̒͏̄̑̑᷇͘͞ ̧̩͚̰̑͋᷅̑᷈ͥ̓ͩ̑̀͂E᷁̎̑᷇ͯ̕͏̠͇̭̄̑̇ͬ̋L̸̜͖̘̪̇̑̆ͩ̇͋ͩ᷃̑͆ ̶̷̞͚᷇̑᷈ͯ͟ͅ͏̳̑̈͞J̷̧̘̮᷊̜̇᷅̑᷾̊̒̑̿͆Ȏ̼̭͍̤̮͕̔ͫͯ̑̆͋͘͝E̛̛͖̫̟̮ͮ̆̑̏ͧ᷉̓̆̑L̡­̳̥̼̳̦͎͔̫͚̑ͤ͆̑͋ ̡̭͈̝᷂̽͆̀̑ͭ᷆ͥ̈̑͜J᷊̟̫̼̜᷃᷾̑̈̃᷅͒̑᷉ͣO̶̯͇̽̑᷄̍᷃͐̇̑̈᷄᷃͝E̢̨̨᷂̖̘᷆̏̑᷇̄̏̑̏̾L͂­̧͈̬̑̆᷀ͧͬ̑᷀̚͜͞ͅ ̴̢̨͚̩̮͚͎͈̟̑̌̑͢ͅJ͇̬᷿͈͛̑̅̆̐̀̑̓͘͜͠O̧̗͏̫̪͍̑᷀ͦ͆ͩ̑᷾̑͠E̴̴͉̠̜͇̦ͮ̑᷀̋̑ͫ᷆͡Lͧ­̛̖̼̺̰ͥ̑̈́͂͑ͯ̑᷅͜ ̨̫͈̱̩̜̓̑᷄᷀ͨ̑ͩ͢͞J̸͖͗̑̂ͣ᷈̊̓᷆̑̽᷆͜ͅO̜͍̙̓̑͊ͧͦ̀͊̑᷾͊̕͢E̡̳᷿̪᷊̬͂̑᷅᷾̾̉̑̾̓L᷉­̴̧̡̰̝̼̙̑̎᷅̑ͯ̕͞ ̗̻̗̹͗᷇̑͋̽ͩ͛̑͜͝ͅJ̸̠̘̇᷉̑̆̎᷉̆͂̑ͨ̽̈Ọ̷̡̡̝̻͙ͭ̑ͥ᷀᷉̑̽͟E̴͎̊ͯ̑ͥ̐̍̓͡͏̠̑̃̽L̘­̷̴̢͎̰̭͙᷄̑᷾ͩ̈̑̐ ̦̠̣̺̌ͤ̑̏᷃́̑᷇̔͢͢J̵̡͚̭̫̗ͨ̓̑᷈ͯ̑̅͜͞Ẻ̥̫͓̦᷿̗̑̓͛ͣ̑̅̚͠Ļ̷̢̺ͫ̑ͬ̂̓̌̈́̑᷾̚͟ ̷̢̛̜͕͓̹̝̑̓̍̑͜͝͠Ȩ̵̖᷿̠͎̗̽᷀̑̾̈́ͪ̑ͩ ̣̦̻̄̔̑͛᷈͂̓̑᷁̀̕͞J̨̥̱̩̑ͬ̑̐̓̿ͮ̑͒ͮ͜O̵̗͔͖̊̑ͣ᷾̒̑̑᷄̚͟͞Ę̮̳͈̖̿̈́̑̆̄̑̂ͭ͘͟L᷆­̷̧̬͖̱͔̆̑͋ͩ᷀̑̔͢ ̷͇͕͇̯͖͓͋̑̏͌̍̐̑͘J̧̻̺̬ͮ̑ͥ̀᷄̾᷃̑ͤ̕͘Ǫ̸̡̣᷁̒͋̑̎ͧ̉̀͗̑̓E͇͍͎͕͆ͫ̑̓᷄̒̾͑̑̋̔ ̲̮̫́̂̑̾᷇̍̒᷾̑̔᷄͟J̷̻̱͕̖͚͆̑͒̀̑ͯ᷉͜͞O̸̧͚̳͓᷿̭͆̑̽͐̑̒᷇̚E̴̦̳̺ͩͭ̑̈́̋ͬ̋̑̽͋ͬL̤­̱̫᷊̑̈́̂᷆̌͊̑̉̓̕̕



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O͎̠͎̼͎̠͎̖͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͖͎̠͎͎̠͎ͫ̇͡͝E͎­̠͎͙͎̠͎̮͎̠͎͎̠͎͉͎̠͎̫͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷁̎᷈L͎̠͎͉͎̠͎̬͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͉͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̏̒ͣ̕ ͎̠͎̞͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̟͎̠͎᷉᷃͋̒ͥJ̧͎̠͎͖͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͕͎̠͎̘͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̐͢͞O͎­̠͎͎̠͎͉͎̠͎̘͎̠͎͖͎̠͎͔͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̀ͫ͟Ȩ͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͕͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̒͒᷈̍͝L͎̠­͎̗͎̠͎᷿͎̠͎͓͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̱͎̠͎̜͎̠͎᷇͛ ̧̧͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷊͎̠͎͔͎̠͎̥͎̠͎͎̠͎͊͟Ę͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷿͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷅͛̏ͩ͝L͎­̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̈͛̈̔ͣ̚͜ ̸̨̛͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̭͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͍͎̠͎̳͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̘͎̠͎̺͎̠͎͎̠͎ͬ͐̋͊ͥͯ͜J͎­̡̠͎͎̠͎̼͎̠͎͖͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͈͎̠͎̒̉͝O͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̝͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͒᷃ͦ̔̔E͎̠­͎͎̠͎̜͎̠͎̙͎̠͎͖͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̈̆ͯ̉L͎̠͎͏̨̛͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̥͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̎᷾͟ ̵͎̠͎̺͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͉͎̠͎͎̠͎̾͢͡J̧͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̼͎̠͎͎̠͎͖͎̠͎̬͎̠͎͎̠͎ͨ̈́͡O͎­̠͎͎̠͎̗͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̈́ͮ᷉͗͂᷾E͎̠͎͏̛͎̠͎̙͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎ͪ͐̈͝L͎̠­̧͎͕͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̦͎̠͎͎̠͎ͭͮ̂᷆ ̸̢͎̠͎͎̠͎̼͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎ͪͦ͟J͎̠͎̬͎̠͎͙͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎ͪ͒᷾ͦͤO͎­̠͎͙͎̠͎͈͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͇͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷅̐᷾ͤÉ͎̠͎͎̠͎͓͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̤͎̠͎̆̅̚͝L͎̠­̸͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̤͎̠͎̳͎̠͎͈͎̠͎̳͎̠͎̠͎̠͎̒ ̶͎̠͎̬͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̫͎̠͎͎̠͎᷊͎̠͎᷉͋ͥJ͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̘͎̠͎͕͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̌̐͌ͪ͞O͎­̵̠͎͎̠͎͉͎̠͎͎̠͎͖͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̻͎̠͎ͣ͒ͫE͎̠͎̣͎̠͎͎̠͎̙͎̠͎͕͎̠͎̮͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͒᷈͑L͎̠­̶͎͎̠͎᷿͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̱͎̠͎͎̠͎ͫ᷉᷇͋ ̧͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷊͎̠͎͎̠͎̥͎̠͎͈͎̠͎͋̌ͧĴ̴͎̠͎͎̠͎̰͎̠͎̼͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎ͬ̔͘O͎­̠͎͎̠͎̺͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͉͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷃̇̏ͅͅE͎̠͎̗͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̲͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷄᷆̃̋̎L͎̠­͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̱͎̠͎͎̠͎͉͎̠͎ͪ̂͒̊̌ ͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̣͎̠͎̳͎̠͎͎̠͎͆ͩ̄̂͟J͎̠͎͎̠͎͓͎̠͎̫͎̠͎̳͎̠͎͎̠͎̙͎̠͎͍͎̠͎ͮ͐E͎­̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷊͎̠͎͎̠͎̘͎̠͎᷈̈᷇̇͜L̡̛͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̺͎̠͎̇ͩ͛͡ ̶͎̠͎̫͎̠͎͔͎̠͎̥͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̣͎̠͎̙͎̠͎͡J̶͎̠͎͎̠͎̖͎̠͎̱͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̲͎̠͎͎᷾ͫ̓ͤ­̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͈͎̠͎͎̠͎͍͎̠͎̱͎̠͎͎̠͎̎̇᷅᷁L͎̠͎̻͎̠͎͎̠͎̗͎̠͎͉͎̠͎̼͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̽̐͟ ̡͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎ͥ́̓͆͟͠J͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̼͎̠͎͎̠͎̌̽̽ͬ̉̕O͎­̨̠͎͕͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎͎̠͎͎̠͎ͨ͑͋̔Ě͎̠͎̼͎̠͎͎̠͎̼͎̠͎̭͎̠͎̞͎̠͎̣͎̠͎͚͎̠͎L͎̠­̨͎̘͎̠͎͎̠͎᷂͎̠͎᷊͎̠͎̬͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̼͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̹͎̠͎̫͎̠͎͎̠͎᷉̈́̌̄ͦ᷾̄ͭ­̪͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̤͎̠͎̙͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̃̉̎̿ ̨͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̦͎̠͎̎ͯ̾̇͡J͎̠͎͎̠͎̺͎̠͎̪͎̠͎᷊͎̠͎͎̠͎̳͎̠͎͎̠͎̅̈́᷆O͎­̨̨̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̄ͥ̂̈́͒E̶̶͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̱͎̠͎͎̠͎͈͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷉ͣ̉L͎̠­͎͎̠͎̫͎̠͎̞͎̠͎͎̠͎̰͎̠͎͙͎̠͎͎̠͎̉͌͢ ̵͎̠͎͎̠͎̠͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷾̎͒͘͜J͎̠͎̮͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̞͎̠͎͎̠͎͛͐͊͋͡O͎­̛̠͎͕͎̠͎̼͎̠͎͎̠͎̻͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎ͨ̈ͬȨ̵͎̠͎̤͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̻͎̠͎͇͎̠͎̏͢L͎̠­̴̸͎᷊͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̜͎̠͎͎̠͎̺͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̻͎̠͎͙͎̠͎͎̠͎᷾̆̒̋ͪ̚͟ ͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̬͎̠͎͎̠͎͑͛᷁᷁᷃͘L͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̻͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̙͎̠͎͎̠͎ͮ̃̌͒͠ ͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̫͎̠͎͎̠͎̫͎̠͎̟͎̠͎͎̠͎᷉̿̆̔J̵̨͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷃̑̒̒̿O͎­̠͎͎̠͎͚͎̠͎̘͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̅̉ͮ᷀̿E͎̠͎͚͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷃ͮ᷄͑͜͡L͎̠­̴̴̨͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̥͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̰͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̰͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͚͎̠͎ͣ̋᷇᷈ͦ͛ͥ̕ ͎̠͎͎̠͎͖͎̠͎͎̠͎̟͎̠͎͎̠͎̠͎̠͎͎̠͎̇̌ͭ̏J͎̠͎͎̠͎̗͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͛̔̉̋ͧ̚O͎­̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̭͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̪͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̜͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̈́̅̈́̓᷈̍ͧ̑᷁̑͜͠E͎̠­̸̵̛͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷂͎̠͎̑̍L̡͎̠͎̖͎̠͎͎̠͎̭͎̠͎̲͎̠͎͎̠͎̥͎̠͎͎̠͎ͣ͡ ͎̠͎̬͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̫͎̠͎͎̠͎͋͛̍͘͜J̸͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̩͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̰͎̠͎̭͎̠͎᷆ͮͅO͎­̴̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̣͎̠͎̱͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̲͎̠͎᷈̋̀E͎̠͎̬͎̠͎̥͎̠͎̠͎̠͎͚͎̠͎͎̠͎̝͎̠͎̣͎̠͎̒L͎̠­̶͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̜͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͔͎̠͎᷃ͦ᷃͟ ͎̠͎͎̠͎̝͎̠͎͎̠͎̯͎̠͎͓͎̠͎̟͎̠͎͎̠͎͛͐ͥJ͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̹͎̠͎̰͎̠͎̜͎̠͎͎̠͎͔͎̠͎᷈̈́̾O͎­̠͎̻͎̠͎̪͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̟͎̠͎͎͎̠͎͎̠͎ͯ͘ͅÉ͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͙͎̠͎͎̠͎ͭ͊̚͠͡L͎̠­̛͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̓̀ͪ᷆ͪ̚ ̧̧͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̪͎̠͎͉͎̠͎͎̠͎̗͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͔͎̠͎̝͎̠͎͎̌᷄ͨ̾᷅͘͘͜͝­̶̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̥͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̲͎̠͎͎̠͎̓̏̽͞J̨͎̠͎̦͎̠͎᷿͎̠͎̞͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎ͨ͘̚O͎̠­͎̝͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̯͎̠͎̯͎̠͎͎̠͎̓ͬ͟͡É̵͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̦͎̠͎͎̠͎̮͎̠͎͎̠͎͆̐͘L͎̠͎­᷊͎̠͎̦͎̠͎͎̠͎̝͎̠͎̻͎̠͎̞͎̠͎͉͎̠͎ͅ ̛͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷉͂̓̓᷁͏͎̠͎J͎̠͎͎̠͎̖͎̠͎̥͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̳͎̠͎͈͎̠͎̾̑᷇O͎­̧̨̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̗͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̞͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̓̾̀᷈̃ͫͯ̄̏̕͟E͎̠­͎͎̠͎̠͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͙͎̠͎̥͎̠͎͎̠͎ͥ᷄̃͞L͎̠͎͇͎̠͎͎̠͎̓͏̨͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̎ͨ̓ ̶͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̺͎̠͎͎̠͎̻͎̠͎͎̠͎͋᷉ͭͦJ͎̠͎̣͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̯͎̠͎̈̐͏͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̓̂O͎­̴̷̠͎̲͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷂͎̠͎͎̠͎̞͎̠͎́̃E̡̡͎̠͎͎̠͎̱͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̒͜͏͎̠͎̮͎̠͎L͎̠­͎̳͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̿̊̒᷈͆͠ ̵͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̟͎̠͎̥͎̠͎͎̠͎᷊͎̠͎̀᷇᷀J͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͓͎̠͎͇͎̠͎͆̾ͥ͜͝O͎­̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̯͎̠͎̺͎̠͎̱͎̠͎᷁ͭ̔ͅE̛͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̘͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷇̽̃ͅͅL͎̠­͎̥͎̠͎͎̠͎͖͎̠͎͎̠͎̝͎̠͎͎̠͎̝͎̠͎̃ͩͯO̵͎̠͎͈͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷂͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̞͎̠͎ͭ̓᷾E͎̠͎­̡͎̠͎͎̠͎̲͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎ͦ̀͒᷉͝L̴͎̠͎͎̠͎̼͎̠͎͎̠͎͚͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎͎̠͎̔͘͡ ͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͖͎̠͎̫͎̠͎᷅̾͆̑̀J̸͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̪͎̠͎ͮͩ̌ͭͧL͎­̠͎͎̠͎̙͎̠͎̬͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̋͊͛̐͡ ͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̤͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̓ͩ̆̔᷄̑J̴̡͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̏̔᷾̋̿O͎­̡̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̰͎̠͎͎̠͎͇͎̠͎͎̠͎̹͎̠͎̇͑͝E͎̠͎̘͎̠͎
JOEL
Julie Langlais Mar 2016
I am a mother, a wife
A friend, a teacher
I seek happiness
I love deep
Only souls not faces
Always loyal
I don't judge  
I love to help
I see good in everyone
Which makes me naive at times
I am open to all
Hoping for a world
Where everyone fits
Labels don't exist

I latch to rules
Anxiety demands
I suffer from OCD
Always chasing order
Shackled by disinfection  
I am comfortable in control
Leading the way
I seek to inspire
I believe in others
I am honest with my feelings
I value experience
And learn from them
I reflect on my day
Always trying to improve
I search for meaning in conversations
Enjoy learning new things daily

I play sports
Love music  
Enjoy Art
Express myself in writes
Fascinated by abstracts
Reading words to gain insight
The grace in movement  
The beauty in visual artistry

I love to re-discover nature
The acoustics of birds
Waterfalls and rain
Kissing falling snow
Connecting with our majestic sky
I love the stillness
Each morning brings
The dew sleeping in the emerald
The lacquered canvas
Of quiet lakes
Motionless  
In something so vast

Yoga is my philosophy
A healthy
Body
Mind
And spirit
My destination is
The pursuit of enlightenment  
In my life's pain
I am coming out of the spiral
Enjoying my journey
Seeing straight
Swimming the unalome
I feed my soul
Hoping IT can lead me
Leaving my ego in my wake

I remain unfinished
I continue to wear masks
Sometimes to hide
As I fear rejection
Still..
As happy as I seem
As lovely as I am
My soul has a shadow
Hidden inside
My essence traced
By shaded light
I am a survivor
Broken in places
Finally accepting my true self


Jl 2016
My first "this is me" poem was from my skewed perception of my teenage self.
I like this one more :) it's more optimistic ;)
Julie Langlais Feb 2016
I contemplate
I buy it on aromatic instinct
The fight emerges
Don't eat it!
You're not even hungry!
I sit in my head
While the words debate
The palate ultimately wins
My hands follow orders
The sweet melting chew
Savory icing
Made for my mouth
I close my eyes
Taste buds dance
Pure enjoyment
A moment has escaped me
In my candy land
Until it's gone
A guilty pleasure
Plagued stomach
Churning to
Disappointed intestines
An alien
They don't quite understand
As it has no nutrients or vitamins to absorb
Sending the lipids and sugars
Away to live as fat
Surrounding areas I dislike most
I look in the mirror
And I imagine where that regretful donut went.

© Jl 2016
The donut here is a representation of fast food in general.
JL Smith  Dec 2018
I'll Return
JL Smith Dec 2018
It's been said,
If you love something
Let it go

So you did
And I'm free,

But I'll return
Knowing

You love me

© JL Smith
Julie Langlais  Apr 2016
Sun-Moon
Julie Langlais Apr 2016
The moon is out
At her usual time
Only the sky is bright
Blended in white clouds
A blue background
Kissed by the sun's rays
on the other side
As the moon enjoys
Her unexplored view
She is blown away
By all the natural colors
Vibrant and alive

I am,
Fascinated by this image
The sun and moon
Share the sky
In the spring
The love that radiates
In contrast
As they beam in unison
In circular beauty
A moment in the universe
That proves us
We are all connected
In some way
Our very own
yin-yang
On display to teach us
Significance of our existence

Jl 2016
I noticed this beautiful image on my run. I felt overjoyed and excited to write about it :)
Julie Langlais Mar 2016
Someone exploiting their position of power is viewed as insecure and ignorant, for thinking that's how you lead a successful team.
People don't respect a useless leader.

Jl 2016
Good leaders  are respected and followed out of trust and respect. If you force people to follow you, most of them will not perform to their best abilities.
That's just my opinion.
Julie Langlais Apr 2016
Each time I tuck you in
I am anchored
With love
My eyes allow you
In my classified space
You land in my head
For the slightest moment
Until
Wanderlust hits
Swimming to my edges
Nourishing my stream
Ending with my heart
As it sings in joy
Inviting you in
Where my damaged soul
Floats in dark isolation
Her pain is paralyzed
In your presence
You love her perfectly
Without expectations
Holding her hand
Guiding her
On your journey  
She is fed  
By the glow  
you spread
Now feeling alive
You bring her back
Deep inside my heart
Less bruised
And,
Kiss her goodnight

Jl 2016
This is how my kids say goodnight each night without even knowing it.
JL Smith Jul 2017
Alone again,
But not lonely
Accepted solitude
As tranquility
Your fear
My freedom
Exploring my depth
Releasing my demons
Core settles
In tune
Mind opens
Heart composes
Serenity and beauty
Heeding inner voice
Spiritual rejoice
Gratitude
Emotional latitude
Flows freely
Rejecting the judgmental,
Artificial
Open to growth
Affirming an oath
Confident in myself
Purpose in moving forward
Trusting my gut
Relying on Superiority
The One and Only
Alone again,
But not lonely

© JL Smith
Julie Langlais Feb 2016
Seeing you each day ships many smiles to my life.

© Jl 2016
Julie Langlais Feb 2016
I see my baby
Running up towards me
Her arms open
Flight in motion

She holds me tight
Her eyes goodnight
As she lets her body
embrace in my jolly

I look down
Her cheek roun'
kiss it with love
Everyone speaks of

I feel her toes curl
Squeeze me tighter in swirl
I Cuddle her heart
Remembering her start

Her arms around my neck
Begging for one more sec
Increasing her hold
As she senses my unfold

I correlate
Work can wait
This is what I live for
Precious moments galore
A purest love to share
With my koala bear

© Jl 2016
I was saying goodbye to my daughter before going off to work one early morning. She made my day, and had to write about her embrace :)
jl Nov 2013
Some people say that true love does not exist. It's funny cause I used to be that exact person. With having to deal with such agony of a loss of my own mother at a young age, reality became a part of my world. Love though, was never evident to me. Never clear, nor around. Hope was lost along with faith. How could I ever turn to bringing myself alive with feelings only someone else could give me?

It happened.

Struck me through many faults, and times of confusion.. I found myself to be fascinated and utterly taken by someone else life. It just gathers your feelings and throws them into a well that you will never get back. I fell deeply, madly, continuously, in-love.  But this was a love that had no way to be described or defined. This love to me became more than a feeling it was a sense of living, and to be without it would be impossible, heart-wrecking. It became my persuasion at life.My hope for a future, and my inspiration for believing in greater things. You did this to my heart . You filled my vains with something other than blood, but yet a poision that only you could make. Your love. Your taste.Your sound, smile, your looks, and just the way you walked in room making it seem so alive, i was captivated.

Love is so wrecking, and is so STRONG. It is something that should not be messed with . People ask me all the time.. how could you be inlove your so young... you have a whole world to meet...there are bigger things than this. What does that matter. No age, no number, no disease or death could determine such love that is unconditional. You see, its not forced.. its just there. Its as if you blink for a second and your whole world is changed. you feel as if theres a glass over your eyes and you know longer just live for yourself. You live to protect, to hold, to cherish, and to provide whoever that special someone may be with every part of your soul .

You mean the world and beyond to me. You mean such beautiful dreams to me. You soul brings me down to feel all the gravities of love. Your bright,your sunny, your breath taking in every cliche way their is in a sense of being mine and only mine.

Life brings us these mysteries, and obstacles that we must overcome to be strong and better than we could ever imagine being. Sometimes things happen that we may not even have the mind to control or explain, but to work over. You have always been my strength, and my biggest weakness but will never be any sense of failure to me. We must be braver to be brave, to feel extreme, and to experience the true meanings beneath compassion, and loyalty, and security. Once a love so strong, that a love must be stronger. You are my one and only . My fairytale that has no end . Your my storybook, and although i may be hurt , i trust in your heart that you will replenshish this love  and vision how our lives intertwine for such powerful reasons. We've had a love that cannot die nor burn out. So believe me , i will never stop loving you now , then , and after that. True love exists in the eyes of the beholder, and i am a victim of something so moving that no pull could break my longing for your touch.

I love you , I need you and I only pray for your heart. never give up.

-Jl
Julie Langlais Feb 2016
Some of us are fractured
Stubborn scars that just won't heal
But here's the thing
I've recently discovered
We survived by shielding our souls from monsters
We managed to stay beautiful
Despite our ugly life
We are special gems
Like no other
We have profound empathy  
Seeking happiness in helping others
Our love glides the length of the sea
As deep as its bottomless kingdom
If you ever fall in love
With someone like this
Commit to never losing this precious treasure
This remarkable woman is a priceless pearl
An irreplaceable gift

© Jl 2016
I was thinking of a warrior queen on HP when I wrote this.

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