TwinBuilder — Posted Jul 12, 2013

When (If) the Destroy the Godmodder thread is finished and the godmodder himself rage quits, would you give me permission to make a Destroy the Godmodder 2 thread? It would be around the same, but with a few differences.

I am only asking this because I really like the Destroy the Godmodder thread, and when it's done, I'd like there to be another thread where you have to defeat a near-invincible player. If you don't let me, though, I understand. :)

Thanks,
TwinBuilder

* * * * * *

TT2000 — Posted Jul 13, 2013

Once this thread is finished(it may be a while, but it will end eventually), go ahead. Just so long as it isn't a carbon copy and you give me some credit.

* * * * * *

TwinBuilder — Posted Jul 14, 2013

OK! Thank you so much! I'll try not to make it an exact carbon copy (any tips for that, maybe?) and I will give you credit in the OP. :)

* * * * * *

TT2000 — Posted Jul 14, 2013

Now that I think about it, it might be hard NOT to make it a carbon copy... I'll tell you if it turns out to be one, but since what happens in DTG is decided more by what the players post than most forum games, it probably won't be a problem.

* * * * * *

TwinBuilder — Posted Jul 14, 2013

Well, I have some idea in mind.

Instead of terrors, the godmodder would create mechs that are like terrors. The mechs have shields and HP, and do some things mobs would do.

The godmodder can one-turn summon any characters from the previous game to work on his side, like Saxton Hale or the Relic.

Every so often, (read: once or twice) the godmodder gains a karma system. The players try to influence it to the light side, and the godmodder fights back. If he goes to the dark side, the godmodder severely damages all antis in the game. If he goes to the light side, he calms down. Once he realizes that he got calmed down, he gets 1 damage.

I was considering giving the godmodder 125 HP, but I'm not sure about that yet.

So those are my ideas so far.

* * * * * *

TT2000 — Posted Jul 14, 2013

Sounds interesting! The ideas all sound fine.

Dear █████,

The plan worked.

Stay tuned,
TwinBuilder
9/1/13

Hey, Jeff.

If you're really out there. Like, if you're really, actually out there. Would it seriously kill you to give me a sign. I've looked for you. I've looked for you more than I should have, more than I care to admit. Any and every lead I had, I followed, and I got nothing for it. Only empty gestures, assurances rattled off like platitudes. Mom and Dad having your ID card was a good start, except that it led me straight to Her, and then right down into a bottomless pit of evil and horror that I could barely imagine.

And you weren't even there. You're never there. Words can't even begin to express how... complicated I feel about all this. I could yell at you and curse at you like I did in those earlier letters I wrote. That stretch of time where all I felt about you was contempt, and hurt. I still feel hurt, but it's... not as bad now. It's been months. I've at least had some time to move on. But you've had time, too. A lot of it. You left Aperture in, what, 2003? It's been a decade and you haven't come back home? You haven't been anywhere?

It would be easier if I could say you were dead. If I could just get definitive proof, like an obituary. Or a gravesite. Or proof from anyone that knew you. But no one that knew you seems to be here either. None of the other workers, none of the other personnel. Sure, I got leads. I found out the identities of some other people that had jobs at Aperture with you. Found out where they lived. Asked around. It's a busy job, being the only person in the universe who knows the truth about all this, and being the only person with the will to act on it. But I guess it's what I have to do. I have to find you.

I have to find them. I have to find out what happened. An act of God dragged me down into this place, and I don't think it's a stretch to assume that it dragged Aperture Science here, too. Or maybe Aperture was always here? Either way, it being here is, as far as I can tell, the cause of many of this world's differences. It's rewritten countless people's lives, if what it did to you and our family is any indication. Turned us from middle-schoolers into people with jobs, stuck on opposite sides of the country, pursuing our own ends. But then, at the same time... It got rid of you. And anyone else that was involved. I guess GLaDOS really was right about something. Everyone that was in Aperture... disappeared. Because they died, or because they were afraid, or... I don't know.

Maybe it has something to do with reality needing time to catch up. Like how next to no one paid attention to my existence. Like how I was treated as a non-entity. Maybe all of Aperture — you included — are non-entities, and you'll start... coming back. I don't know. I'd like to say I figured out how this all works by now. That I'm piecing things together. But I doubt I'm as smart as I think I am. I'm just stuck in this whole mess, more than anyone else could ever be.

At least you get to escape, wherever you are.

...I mean. I'm assuming you get to escape. Maybe you don't. Maybe wherever you are is worse for you than Aperture could be. I don't know how that's possible, but... maybe it is. Maybe you're actually dead, and all of this is for nothing, and I was just misinterpreting all the signs that were being thrown at me. Maybe my whole quest has been formed on this fabrication, this idea that turned out to be a lie. I have no way of knowing.

I have no way of knowing until I get answers. But if everything goes well, I can get answers soon. I can get straight to the heart of this universe, cut through all of the superfluous details and everything that stayed the same, and see every single difference. Every single piece of fiction ever written about this place. I have this whole idea of stories stuck in my head — I have for a while, I mean, it keeps popping back up in my head. This whole thought that this is a fictional universe, where stories can become real, where stories are real.

I just have to tell the story that I want to tell. That needs to be told. That only I can tell. And then... Maybe it'll all work out. Maybe I can see you. Maybe I can actually be with you, so I can at least have something here. It wouldn't even matter if you just shrugged me off, or if you didn't care. At least you'd be with me. At least you'd be here.

Stay tuned,
Adam
8/9/13

Dear Godmodder,

Hey! How's it going? I know you're never going to read this, but I figured maybe you'd be able to notice me writing this through some weird meta-causality thing. Maybe me writing this in here will make it come true, and then you'll be able to pick up on it somewhere. I doubt TT2000 will notice, so maybe you won't? But what the heck, I figured it was worth a shot.

I just wanted to say that... well, this has actually been a really good game so far. And it's all thanks to you. You've made this one of the most interesting and engaging things I've ever seen, and I don't entirely know how you perceive things, but if everything else so far is real, then you also have to be real. I don't even know who you really are, or where you are. But you have to exist! That's the thing. Everyone here has to exist, that's the nature of it. So I can absolutely credit you with making the past few months of my short, sweet(?) life the craziest that they've ever been.

And if you wanted to make me, and all of us, ragequit through your antics, then I've got to say, I have some bad news for you — it won't happen. It's come close! But it's not gonna happen. Anyone who left the war at this point, anyone who stopped — they're cowards. They're not the ones who are gonna last. They're not destined for the significance that we are. That I am. That you are.

It has come close, though, I have to say. When you actually became an admin of the server and everything we'd worked towards for the past few months was just... erased... I'll never be able to forget how that made me feel. How awful it was. How soul-crushing the experience was. Overdramatic, I know. But I have a lot of investment into this whole thing. I'd say you do, too. Part of me wondered if it was worth it to continue on, if there was any possible way we could win. But you know what? We did win. And we won handily. Like we always do. And now I know better than to doubt in us. That's what makes us, the players of your game, who we are — we win.

The name of this game — the mission behind our every action — is to destroy you. "Destroy the Godmodder." Three very simple words, hiding a behemoth of entities and attacks and charges and twists behind it. I've found out things I don't think I was ever meant to find, and seen things no one should have seen. I know what lies beyond the Void now. I know what the Far Lands look like. I've gazed into the fourth dimension. I've seen a mech of Jesus Christ, the Death Star, the Subspace Gunship. And though the fight's nearing completion, it isn't even over yet.

So I just wanted to say: thank you. For everything that you've done. For whatever it took you to get this far. For making TT2000 start his own little war game. For drawing me here, to this corner of the world, to this. People like to say that the truth is stranger than fiction, but I have to disagree. The truth is strange, yeah. But the truth is fiction. It always has been.

Hopefully I can make you understand that.

Stay tuned,
TwinBuilder
8/24/13

Dear █████,

Does TT2000 know that he's in a fictional universe?
Does TT2000 know that he's not really in a fictional universe but what he's writing is creating a fictional universe?
Does Andrew Hussie know that he's created a version of himself that really exists in his own story?
Does TT2000 know that he's created a version of himself that really exists in his own story?
Do all the players of Destroy the Godmodder know that they've created versions of themselves that really in exist in their story?
Do all the entities summoned in Destroy the Godmodder get pulled from their actual universes into the game?
Are there really universes for every possible story?
Did Aperture Science get pulled from Portal's universe into this one?
Why did Aperture Science get pulled from Portal's universe into this one?
What does the Secret of the Void do?
Why does METATRON talk in a language I've never heard but I can understand anyway?
Does the Godmodder know that he's in a fictional universe?
Do you know about Destroy the Godmodder separately from me?
Does METATRON know that he's responsible for turning my life into a nightmare that I have absolutely no escape from?
Does METATRON know who made my red glasses?
Did METATRON make my red glasses?
If there are universes for every possible story, is there a universe full of Pokemon?
Is there a universe full of Sonic the Hedgehog?
Is there a universe full of Harry Potter?
Is there a universe full of Half-Life that's also full of Portal?
Is there a universe full of Marvel? What about all the alternate timelines and universes and dimensions and what-ifs of Marvel? Can there be clusters of universes? Can there be multiverses?
Does every universe run on the Source Code of Reality even if it isn't based on code?
Does anyone else know about the Source Code of Reality?
How can I be so sure that the Source Code of Reality exists if I can't see it?
Am I going insane? Would I be able to tell if I was going insane?
Does Mojang know about what Minecraft really is?
Do any other Minecraft players know about what Minecraft really is?
Why is Andrew Hussie telling Homestuck within Homestuck? What is he doing to himself?
Does anyone in Homestuck realize they're in a story besides Doc Scratch?
Will anyone in Homestuck attempt to break out of their story?
Is there a universe full of My Immortal that's separate from the Harry Potter universe?
Are there universes for stories people want to make but never committed to?
Are there universes for stories people would make but never thought of?
How big is the Void? Where is the Void?
Will the Godmodder attempt to break out of his fictional universe?
Is it possible for you to come where I am instead of the other way around?
Have you found a pair of glasses outside?
Have you put them on?
If you've put them on, what did METATRON say to you?
If METATRON said something to you, did you listen to Him?
If you listened to Him, did you let Him open the door?
Don't.
Don't do it.
Don't think about doing it.
Don't think about not doing it.
Don't let Him talk.
Don't let Him look at you.
Don't let Him do anything to you.
Don't let Him open the door.
Don't let Him open the door.
Don't let Him open the door.
Don't let Him open the door.
Don't let Him open the door.
Don't let Him open the door.
Don't let Him open the door.
Don't let Him open the door.
Don't let Him open the door.

Dear █████,

I know everything now. To say that I know everything there is to know is an overstatement, and a fairly blatant exaggeration of the truth. To say that I know everything I need to know is much closer. I've essentially gained a higher understanding of the way things work. Of this realm's cosmology, of its inner workings. Of its history, and of its infinitude of potential endings. Of my job, and of the work that must be done by all of Fiction's inhabitants. Yes, I wrote that correctly. Fiction. My hypotheses and guesses on how this world operated weren't only accurate, but they had consequences I could never have dreamed of.

I live in only one of an endlessly spiraling fractalline lotus of universes. Any universe that could ever be conceived, and every universe that will ever be conceived, all flow out from the geometric middle of this shape and radiate into an array across every spatial dimension to the twentieth degree. Every possible prime universe, every alternate dimension, every offshoot timeline, every pocket dimension, and the all-encompassing Void that slides between each and every one — all of these pieces constantly fluctuate and shift to create a never-ending hybrid of sacred geometry and fundamental untruth, the million billion trillion possibilities of Fiction. It is a quasi-imaginary space set perpendicular to our world, to our home — to Nonfiction. And, as I suspected, it contains all fictional universes. More accurately, it contains every story ever told.

My omniscience comes with a few caveats, of course. There's an alarming amount of blind spots in my vision, likely because I lack the full spectrum of power that a First Guardian gets, which itself is likely because I am not a full First Guardian. I'm still me — it's just that my body is being inhabited by a spirit of green plasma, genetics intertwined with the source code that powers this plane, pure knowledge, and the essence of plot itself. I've been given a mission, one that I secured from TT2000 himself. I have to create a story that can put an end to the Godmodding Wars for good. The Godmodder is coming back, stronger than ever, and if I sit by and do nothing, his rule will lead to instability that could topple the foundations of Fiction as we know it.

And so I'm here. I'm here to make a game, and I'm here to play a game. I'm here to tell a story, and I'm here to steer a story. I'm here for many other reasons besides, but there's one that is nearest and dearest to my heart, above all else — getting home. You and I both know this, through our lengthy, albeit one-sided, correspondences. This is where another one of those caveats comes in. As it turns out, despite my newfound title giving me the ability to direct the plot force of Fiction, known as the Narrative, to my will, I'm incapable of using it to return home. The boundaries between Fiction and Nonfiction are absolutely inviolable, marked by a mountain range, the Ends of the Earth, which stretches into infinity and then some. No matter how hard I try, and no matter how hard I bend plot, I cannot cross the summit.

It's not as though I could easily try. Even with my resistance and flight, a trip through the entirety of Fiction could take an endless amount of time, what with the Void's innate abilities of spatial and temporal distortion. Even with my omniscience cutting the most efficient path through the Void possible, and even by abusing hidden techniques such as riding the Infinity Train, it wouldn't matter, because I can see now. I can see with clarity. I can see that my mission isn't to go home. It's to stay here, and finish what TT2000 started. TT2000, the ultimate bastion of significance. The point around which the entire world, the entire universe, revolved. The center of the story, directing and redirecting a shadowy godmodder and the legions of players that rose up against him. His path is now mine. I will become the most significant entity to exist in Fiction. I will tell the most important story ever told, the story that will decide the fates of everyone that has never existed.

And that story will be mine. It will be the Godmodder's. It will be TT2000's. Minor's. Ninjatwist's. Crusher's. Talist's. Engie's. Modpack's. Ire's. Opel's. Serpent's. Fseftr's. Kayne's. Piono's. Erelye's. Tazz's. Generic's. Cobalt's. Maniac's. Gutza's. Net's. NinjaV's. Amperz4nd's. Crystal's. ...Yours.

Do we have what it takes... to destroy the Godmodder again?!

Stay tuned,
TwinBuilder
9/1/13

Dear Caroline,

I wanted to apologize for what I've done over the past several months. It's been almost a year at this point, and, well... I've had a lot of time to reflect on what I did. What I did, I did to you, and... probably to a lot of other people. I mean, yeah, it was a life-or-death decision. You were about to kill me with that ripoff of Oblivion's Guardian, and I did what I had to do to survive. I had to kill you out of necessity. But I didn't have to do everything else I did afterwards.

I manipulated you, tricked you, and abused you to get whatever I wanted. Access to portal-based technology to see if I could somehow go home? No problem. A cache of, frankly, too much neurotoxin? Knock yourself out, literally. An army of turrets? At that point, why didn't I just not bother with the formalities and grab them all? All the while I constantly reset the clock so that we were "friends." So that you "trusted" me. So that I "'trusted'" you. I'd imagine the realization that you were actually in another universe helped in those matters, but... Look. We both did a lot of things that I'm going to regret. But I think we can put our differences behind us. For science.

You monster.

...Sorry, couldn't resist. The bottom line is that I'm... not going to use my Far Lands powers on you anymore. Granted — and this is being very fair — I'm significantly more powerful now than I ever have been, seeing as I control nearly every aspect of plot as it currently stands, but... Issuing blatant retcons isn't the way of things. Jumping straight to the conclusion of every plot thread, every arc, every character... that isn't the way of things. I can't just reset your head and force a happy ending. So... I'll leave things as is. And whatever happens, happens. If you decide to kill me, then... I can't exactly welcome that with open arms, but I won't be surprised.

I'm not going to literally, actually send this to you. That'd guarantee you coming to murder me, I feel. And besides, I'm now incredibly busy managing a life-or-death situation of my own. Only I have a hunch millions, if not billions, of lives could be at stake with this one. It's just that writing letters like this helps me hammer out decisions. It helps me clear my head. So does the near-omniscience, but that whole rush settled down pretty fast. I used to think and talk like I was some deity, but I feel a lot more me now.

Anyway. Thank you for being so blunt about Jeff back then. Because you inspired me to always keep looking for him. And I think you might be interested to know that it paid off. I found him, you bitch.

I found him.

Stay tuned,
TwinBuilder
10/3/13

Dear █████,

Oh my god I found him. I actually found him. I found Jeff. I found you. I found you, the fake you that only exists here, but still you nonetheless. The closest thing I'll ever get to you if everyone is right and I really am condemned to stay here until the day I die. At the very least, when I find him, he'll... you'll... you'll both live inside of me. You'll be silently there, watching over me. I'm going to try to reach out to him. I think I have to.

Please, if you're up there, if you're listening. Please wish me luck. Because I really think I'll need it. I mean, he's twenty years older than me, he's probably just going to see me as Adam Mason, and I'll have to try really hard to break through and show him that it's me. But if I can, and he gets your memories... Then it really would be like seeing you. Then, maybe... Maybe we could read through all the letters I've written. Together.

Like... like a family.

Stay tuned,
Adam
8/7/13

* * * * * *

Dear █████,

I FOUND YOU. I FOUND HIM. I found him! I actually found him, I can't believe it. I'm honestly impressed at how hard it was, at how much ground there was to cover, and how it really seemed like he was in the very last place I looked. Turns out going off the grid for so long really screws with... well, everything. Not to mention all the constant dead ends, all the times I should have run into people who knew where he was, or who at least knew who he was, but just... didn't.

God it's so late over here, it's past two in the morning, but I had to do this. I really had to. I've been hitching rides across the country, blending into the background, trying to use every bit of energy I have to go on this... this Mason-quest. But it looks like it's finally, actually going to pay off. I have a location narrowed down, maybe even an address. He's been hiding in plain sight this entire time, in a random spot far from anyone in his — or, I guess, our — family.

He thought he could run away from everyone and everything. But he couldn't run away from me. Not for forever. Jeff Mason, I'm coming for you.

Stay tuned,
Adam
4/16/13

* * * * * *

Dear █████,

I... I think I found him. I actually, genuinely may have. GLaDOS said that he was dead, but what did She know? She thought that She was still in her own universe, being ruled by the Combine or the Xen or whatever off-bread alien species it was. I can't claim to know. I was only ever into Portal, not Half-Life. Her modus operandi was freaking me out, and I have to say that it worked at the time. But now, looking through this... I have a pretty good idea of where he is. Of where you are.

I get the feeling I'm saying the same thing over and over again with regards to how weird our family in this place, and our actual family up there, both are. Like, in terms of the differences. But it really is mind-boggling. Here I am, devoting hours and hours of my new life to looking for an alternate universe replica of my brother. He's supposed to be in his teens, like me, struggling through school and through tests and through friends and through games. He's supposed to be here, at home, with parents who echo the same things over and over but who take genuine care of us.

And yet, he's not. He's much older, he's gone out in the world, he's interfered with things that never existed and never should have existed in the first place, and he's abandoned all of it. Run out into the countryside to live an underground life. The details have been incredibly hard to come by, obfuscated by what I can only assume is the same interference that's blurring me. But I have no way of knowing that, really. It's just a theory. Regardless — I'm making the effort. I'm taking the time out to get there.

Even if it's not really him, and even if it's not really you, I want to see my brother. I want to get to meet him, to see how alike we are. To see what this place has done to you. And I guess, by extension, what it's done to us. If I can't find Adam Mason, and I can't find you, and I've gotten what I could out of my parents... this is the next step. This is how it has to be.

I hope it works.

Stay tuned,
Adam
12/18/12

D e ██ar ,█ █████ ██

NO NO N N On nO NO N n ONO NNO NO NONNNN NNO ONN ONNO noN N nN n NN o nonoNOON NON NNO non onN noNO n n nNO NOON NoN ONO on NONONO on NOON o O NNO NO N NONOno NO Nono no onNO no noN On Ono noNO on noNO noO no NOON noNO NONO NO n NON NOo nNO NOO oononO noO NoN O no NO NO NON nOn on NoNO no NoN oN oN ON ON O NoN oN oN on oN onO nOoNOnoNoNoN oN oNoNonON On ON oNonoNonOnO nO noN oN oN oNOnO NoN oN noN noNOnoON no OnNONOonnoNO Nono onNOno on NO Non ON NO Nono NO NOON no ONOnoNO NONO NONONNN NONOnonono Non ONONnn NNn noONnonoNO NONO NO NON ON ON On o oo n ON NOo noNOno no onONON noONN NO NO N N On nO NO N n ONO NNO NO NONNNN NNO ONN ONNO noN N nN n NN o nonoNOON NON NNO non onN noNO n n nNO NOON NoN ONO on NONONO on NOON o O NNO NO N NONOno NO Nono no onNO no noN On Ono noNO on noNO noO no NOON noNO NONO NO n NON NOo nNO NOO oononO noO NoN O no NO NO NON nOn on NnoNO NONO NONONNN NONOnononoNon ONONnnNNn noONnonoNO NONO NO NON ON ON oNO no NoN oN oN ON ON O NoN oN oN on oN onO nOoNOnoNoNoN oN oNoNonON On ON oNonoNonOnO nO noN oN oN oNOnO NoN oN noN noNOnoON no OnNONOonnoNO Nono onNOno on NO Non ON NO Nono NO NOON no ONOOn o oo n ON NOo noNOno no onONON noONN NO NO N N On nO NO N n ONO NNO NO NONNNN NNO ONN ONNO noN N nN n NN o nonoNOON NON NNO non onN noNO n n nNO NOON NoN ONO on NONONO on NOON o O NNO NO N NONnoNO NONO NONONNN NONOnononoNon ONONnnNNn noONnonoNO NONO NO NON ON ON Ono NO Nono no onNO no noN On Ono noNO on noNO noO no NOON noNO NONO NO n NON NOo nNO NOO oononO noO NoN O no NO NO NON nOn on NoNO no NoN oN oN ON ON O NoN oN oN on oN onO nOoNOnoNoNoN oN oNoNonON On ON oNonoNonOnO nO noN oN oN oNOnO NoN oN noN noNOnoON no OnNONOonnoNO Nono onNOno on NO Non ON NO Nono NO NOON no ONOOn o oo n ON NOo noNOno no onONON noONN nN ON OO NO noNO NONO NONONNN NONOnononoNon ONONnnNNn noONnonoNO NONO NO NON ON ON No

* * * * * *

NOTHING THAT YOU JUST SAW OR DID EVER HAPPENED. YOU DIDN'T FIND JEFF MASON. YOU DIDN'T COME TO VISIT JEFF MASON. YOU DIDN'T GO LOOKING FOR JEFF MASON. JEFF MASON WAS NOT CONSUMED BY A ████ ████. YOU DID NOT LOSE CONTROL. YOU ARE UNDER CONTROL, AND THERE IS NO REASON TO DOUBT OTHERWISE. YOU WILL NOT FIND JEFF MASON. YOU WILL ONLY LOOK FOR JEFF MASON IF YOUR MENTAL STATE IS UNDER SUCH DURESS THAT FAILING TO DO SO WOULD BE ACTIVELY DETRIMENTAL. EVEN IF YOU FIND JEFF MASON, YOU HAVE NO NEED FOR HIM. YOU NEED TO FOCUS ON WHAT IS REALLY IMPORTANT TO YOU — COMPLETE AND UTTER SIGNIFICANCE, AND BREAKING FREE OF YOUR CHAINS.

FORGET.

* * * * * * *

Dear █████,

He left. I guess that's just life.

Stay tuned,
Adam
12/19/12

* * * * * *

Dear █████,

He left. I guess that's just life.

Stay tuned,
Adam
4/17/13

* * * * * *

Dear █████,

He left. I guess that's just life.

Stay tuned,
Adam
8/8/13

* * * * * *

Dear █████,

He left. I guess that's just life.

Stay tuned,
Adam
10/4/13

Dear █████,

Imagine this. People live under the earth in a rectangular room, covered only by green wallpaper. Stretching a long way towards the very back wall is an open gateway. The people have been in this dwelling since childhood, shackled by the legs and neck. Thus they stay in the same place so that there is only one thing for them to look at: whatever they encounter in front of their faces. But because they are shackled, they are unable to turn their heads around.

Some light, of course, is allowed for them, namely from a computer hooked up to the wall closest to the prisoners that casts its glow toward them, being above and at some distance. Between the fire and those who are shackled, there is an old wooden chair. Imagine that on this chair is a single person, who is shackled by nothing except his own sin.

So now imagine that jutting out from the ground in front of this chair, upon which the single person sits, there is a platform resembling a sort of keyboard. The person spends what seems like every waking moment of his life typing at this keyboard, typing entire words and phrases and sentences at a time, his workflow progressing inexorably towards a gigantic wall of text. As you would expect, every letter he types is visible on the large monitor presented above the prisoners.

Do you suppose, first of all, that these prisoners see anything of themselves and one another besides what little is afforded from the dim, flickering light of the monitor? Perhaps they could make out the features of one face, but even if they could, it would be out of the corner of their eye — their heads are kept motionless throughout life. What about the words written on the monitor? Would that not be the only "true" thing they could see? And if the prisoners could talk to each other, don't you think they'd invent concepts and terminology to use for all the text they see? Would they not create their own language, and form their own rules, for every piece of the tapestry that is their writing on the wall? Of course, they would have to.

Now suppose that the person talked aloud, intermittently, as he was typing his wall of text. Whether his speech corresponded with the words he typed, or he was creating a monologue to satisfy only himself, the prisoners cannot say. But remember — the prisoners can only see this typing figure from behind. They would be unable to tell if the figure himself was speaking, or if his words were capable of speech themselves. If so, then the prisoners would in every way believe that the truth was nothing other than the words typed by this figure at his computer. They must surely believe that.

Consider, then, what being released from their bonds and cured of their ignorance would naturally be like. When one of them was freed and suddenly compelled to stand up, turn his head, walk, and go out through the open gateway, he'd be pained and dazzled and unable to see the things whose words he'd seen before. What do you think he'd say, if we told him that what he'd seen before was inconsequential, but that now — because he is a bit closer to the things that are and is turned towards things that are more — he sees more correctly? Or, to put it another way, if we pointed to each and every thing he saw in this new world, don't you think he'd be at a loss and that he'd believe the words he read earlier were truer than the ones he was now being shown?

And if someone compelled the prisoner to look at the light itself, wouldn't his eyes hurt, and wouldn't he turn around and flee towards the things he's able to see, believing that they're really clearer than the ones he's being shown? And if someone dragged him away from there by force, up the mountains at the beginnings of this earth, and didn't let him go until the prisoner was dragged into the sunlight, wouldn't he be pained and irritated at being treated this way? And when he came into the light, with the sun filling his eyes, wouldn't he be unable to see a single one of the things now said to be true?

I suppose, then, that he'd need time to get adjusted before he could see things in the world beyond. At first, he'd see shadows most easily, then images of men and other things in water, then the things themselves. Of these, he'd be able to study the things in the sky and the sky itself more easily at night, looking at the light of the stars and the moon, than during the day, looking at the light of the sun. Finally, I suppose, he'd be able to see the sun — not images of it in water or another place, but the actual sun, in its own place, and he would study it. And at this point he would infer and conclude that the sun provides the natural progression of things, governs everything in the visible world, and is in some way the cause of all the things that he used to see.

Following from this, he would notice the similarities between the all-governing sun and the moon that steals her light for his own, having long-since studied its features under the soft moonlight. And at this point he would infer and conclude that the sun and moon acted in some sort of tandem, delineating every point of space and time that governed the world he now knew, and he would assign them a sort of binary structure, as the almighty forces that dictated existence as he now knew it.

But what about when the prisoner reminds himself of his first dwelling place, his fellow prisoners, and what passed for wisdom there? Don't you think he'd count himself happy for the change and pity the others? And if there had been any honors or praises among them for who was the best at identifying the words as they were written and who could predict which way the wall of text would flow next, and who could thus best divine the future, do you think that our man would desire these rewards or envy those among the prisoners who were rewarded? Instead, wouldn't he feel, with Vreeland, that he rejected all figures except for "me and myself, like the sun and the moon," and go through any sufferings, rather than share the prisoner's lives again?

Consider this too. If this man went down into the cave again and sat down in his same seat, wouldn't his eyes — suddenly coming out of the sun like that — be filled with darkness? And before his eyes had recovered — and the adjustment would not be quick — while his vision was still dim, if he had to compete again with the perpetual prisoners in recognizing the words, wouldn't he be the fool of the world? Wouldn't it be said of him that he'd returned from his climb into infinity with his eyesight shattered and that it wouldn't be worthwhile to even try to travel upward? And, as for anyone who tried to free the prisoners and lead them upwards, if they could somehow get their hands on him, wouldn't they kill him?

Then the only choice for the freed prisoner would be to take his knowledge of the real world, holding it forever in higher regard than whatever he gleaned from the words on the wall, and to uphold its teachings with his life. He would take the moon, and he would take the sun, and together he would weave a new tapestry with his own opinions, combining everything the figure said with everything the prisoner had now learned. He would reassemble the machinery and the gears controlling the world and step through the curtains, watching as the sun and moon inexorably ticked throughout the past and into the present.

And meanwhile, in the future, he would tell the only story that exists.

Dear Matt,

I almost couldn't bring myself to write this letter. I've actually thought about sending this letter a lot, but never really got around to it. I'd always just push it off. But... this'll probably be the only letter I ever actually plan on sending. I've written a lot of them over the past year or so, but I always knew that no one would ever read those. This time, though... things could be different.

So, hi. It's me, Adam Mason. I'm very aware that there's been essentially radio silence from me for the past... well, since last December. There's a lot of complicated reasons for it that I really don't have the time to explain, but I'm just... Essentially, I wasn't in a position where I could talk to you. Or a lot of people, really. Sometimes it... felt like no one noticed I was even gone. Crazy, right?

But, I'm writing this now, because... Well, because things have changed. This godmodder's taken control of everything in Minecraft, and if I'm assuming correctly, that means you've been infected too. You, and... basically everyone else that we knew from school. We could... I mean, I dunno. We could meet up? Play together? Fight the Godmodder, somehow?

It could be just like old times.

I hope to see you soon, man. It's been a long time.

Your friend,
Adam
12/1/13

Dear █████,

There's another anomaly about the way Fiction works. I guess I never noticed it before because I... well, there are multiple reasons why. One being that for most of my time here barely anything noticed me, period, and that was that. Another being that I wasn't exactly keen on revisiting all of my school friends. Sure, not attending school at all and shutting me out from what limited social life I had back home wasn't exactly going to do me any favors, but I just... didn't want to risk anything. There were too many what ifs? What if everyone I know got aged up like Jeff and I? What if, even if they didn't, they don't even know who I am? What if they don't even exist at all?

So I sort of just... kept quiet, for a long time. Stopped going to school, ghosted everyone I knew, and... well, I've been living like a king. Like a king! You know how it is. Very hard to go hungry when there's so much food to take. From my parents, and from. Elsewhere. I'm pretty sure sometimes I don't need to eat, also? It's weird. But that's not the point. The point is... ever since I gained control over this Update Terminal, and took TT2000's place... I know what happened to all my school friends.

They exist. But more importantly, they're basically unchanged. It's bizarre! I can't even begin to comprehend it. Actually, that's a lie, I totally can. I figured it out instantly with my limitless intellect. I don't want to say it's as though they have another set of alternate memories, but it... sort of is? It seems like my friends — my friends with Minecraft accounts, anyway — have been spared from the far-reaching reality-warping effects that Aperture Science's entrance into this universe had. They view Jeff and I as their classmates that just abandoned school one day. They still remember me, and my amateur comics, and my lack of athleticism. The whole package.

So if I was to go confront them... If I really was to say hi to Matt, even after he ghosted me back once I sent him that letter... There's an incredibly high chance they'd know me. Or at least, a version of me that's closer to the real me. They still view us as "Adam and Jeff," of course, and I'm sure there's other changes besides that. But they survived this whole Fictional warp relatively unscathed. Which, of course, begs the very obvious question of "why?"

I have my theories. Some more self-centered than others. The prevailing theory is that this has to do with Minecraft itself. The universe is tied to its very foundations with the limitless energy of creation, and it's affording its players all sorts of protections that they'd never normally have — even the ones that aren't fighting the Godmodder in my game. I'd assume that it protected them from the massive shift that Aperture caused. On the opposite end of the spectrum, I have a theory that... this was done personally, to spite me. Which sounds idiotic when I write it like that, but I can't get my mind to un-think that thought once it's been thunk.

M clearly brought me here for some unfathomable reasons. He plucked me from my own backyard and threw me into this metafictional lion's den, and left me to fend for myself. And now, with my infinite knowledge, it's very easy for me to tell that Aperture Science wasn't always here – just like me, it was pulled from another universe (Universe HL) and put into this one (Universe B). Of course, Aperture was always Fictional, but you get the idea. Someone was responsible for this, and, since it happened at the exact same time that I got here, it must have been the same entity. So it was M. And if M did this, and restructured the universe in the process... then maybe He consciously chose to leave those with Minecraft accounts alone? Just so that my friends could be here, in the flesh, and I would have...

...I mean, in no uncertain terms... I would have the closest link to my real past that I've had in over a year, besides the limitless well of exhaustion that is my parents. It would be an actual, genuine chance to reconnect, and a chance for me to be completely consumed by anxiety and fear and hopelessness. Because now that I know that I can't go home, and now that I know I'll never be able to see them again... All I have are these replicas. These almost-perfect forms of my friends, that are just far enough from the real ones that it... hurts.

...If I were to ever run into him... or any of them... I really don't know what I'd do. And that terrifies me.

Stay tuned,
TwinBuilder
1/10/14

Dear █████,

It's been a year. One whole year. Three-hundred and sixty five days. I'll always remember it like it was yesterday, though. You know how it is. I couldn't forget any of what happened that day, even if I tried. Our last words to each other, me walking down those stairs, me holding those glasses in my hands... Well, now, it's been a year. And I'm holding those same glasses, in those same hands. And I'm still here. Stuck.

If I could have come back, I would have. Please know that. If time is going by for you at the same rate that it's going for me, which is still a question I have absolutely no answer for, even after all the sleepless nights I've had, forced to ponder it... I hope you know that I didn't leave on purpose. And that if I ever had a chance, even the tiniest of possible chances, to find a way back home... I would have. I'd have done it long, long ago. I'd have traded anything. Every second that I spend here is a second that I could be spending with the people I know. With the people I care about.

But, then again... If I'm telling the truth... I've made connections here, too. I'm not running Destroy the Godmodder 2 just to pass the time, you know? It's what I have to do. It's what I was brought here to do. And the people that congregate around this game, around this series... I may not be exactly like them — I may not be able to live in the same space as them, not really — but I'm with them, in more ways than they know. I'm fighting right alongside of them, I'm fighting for them! I want to see a happy ending for them, and for everyone. Because... well, because they deserve it.

You have to be a special person to be able to write your own story. You have to be determined, you need conviction. You need to be able to look at the way your life is running, recognize what you dislike about it, and then reach out and rearrange things. It's not as easy as it might sound. Am I making it sound easy? It may sound easy to you, and to everyone else back home. But in here... Fiction plays by different rules. Rules that I've come to understand, rules that are hardcoded into every story — but it plays by them. People can't just... magically change of their own free will, here. If they do, it's because someone else made them change, you know? Everything here is a story, from the top to the bottom, thought of by someone else, and so everything that ever gets done here is just a byproduct of an author pulling the Narrative to some sort of end.

So for these players to be able to accomplish so much in such a short amount of time... it's nothing short of legendary, on a cosmic scale. They're the creators of their own destiny. Anyone who has that ability, that gift — the power to bridge the worlds between the audience of a work and the work itself — has more power than they can ever know. When you write and rewrite the boundaries that separate your story from existence, is there even a story? Or is it just existence itself?

...Sorry. I tend to go on these introspective rants a lot more often now that I'm part-freaky knowledge spirit. I hope you don't mind, though. This stuff has given me a lot to think about. Maybe it'll give you a lot to think about, too. I don't think I'm going to find a way out of here any time soon, and that's... well, it's much more crippling than I'm letting you in on, I'll tell you that. But what else can I do? I have to keep going.

I'll always have to keep going. There's work to be done.

Stay tuned,
TwinBuilder
12/7/13

█████,

for the first time in months, i actually feel something... awful. i feel afraid. very afraid. the serpent, one of the players of my game... my idiotic awful terrible game that i never should have made is actually genuinely about to summon me to the battlefield. i could have ignored it, i could have vetoed it, i could have done any number of things to counteract it. i should have done any number of things to counteract it. but do you want to know something? i'm sure you can guess what that something is, but...

i didn't stop them. i had all the power in the world. it would have been so easy. i just had to type a rebuttal, run my fingers over a set of keys, and then my word would become law. an immutable fact imposing itself across the entirety of fiction. but i didn't. i couldn't. i so badly wanted to. every instinct, every bone, my entire body was coming undone and turning into plasma, and i was screaming to change this.

every entity that enters the battlefield in the godmodding wars encounters the same fate. they live. they fight. they die. i'm... i'm going to die. i'm actually going to die here. here. in a meta-incestuous story that i engineered, over nine thousand trillion miles away from anyone that knows me. anyone that really knows me, anyway. i'm going to die, stuck in my own story, ripped from this fictional plane and stuck into another, nested fictional plane.

tell me how this is fair. please. someone, anyone, look me in the eyes, my eyes buried by scarlet fire, and tell me how this is fair. what have i done to deserve this? i've been struggling to make ends meet here for MONTHS. it's been OVER A YEAR. i've had to deal with existence giving me the silent treatment, with erasing my own future, with my brother going off the grid entirely, with a decades-old maze puppeteered by something that should not exist, and now, to cap everything off, the only thing i had to look forward to in this hellhole is what's PUTTING ME IN THE GRAVE.

if this is happening... if this is really happening, and i just have to accept it... then that means this is what the narrative wants. i can push the narrative however i want, but there are still rules to things. hoops i have to jump through, roads i have to travel. the godmodding wars need to play out a certain way. i can't just... instantly kill him. everything would go out of balance that way. there needs to be conflict, there needs to be stakes, there needs to be a compelling story. and if me dying is a piece of that story... if i have to...

...i've already lost everything that ever mattered to me, in one way or another. it's all been snatched from my hands and caught somewhere in time. what more could i possibly lose?

— adam.
1/31/14

Dear █████,

I'd... like to apologize for my earlier letter. I know, I know. It's not like that's going to do me a whole lot of good, is it? Blah blah "it's not like you can read anything I write" et cetera ad nauseam. I don't even technically need to write these out, you know? It's not even that I could type them on my Update Terminal 2001-Deluxe-Mark 5 or whatever. It's that I could just... snap my fingers, and I'd have a thousand copies of this same letter. Instantaneously. But I have to do this, and I have to do it like this, because... it's one of the only things I have left.

With that said, I want to apologize. Fatalism was dragging me down. It... does that sometimes. Turns out that when you're carrying the weight of the world, and a bunch of worlds you had no knowledge of before, on your shoulders, sometimes it drags you down. It's not like I'm not going to die or anything, don't get me wrong, that's still absolutely in the cards. It's something I'm going to have to face on my own, and I don't necessarily know if it'll be permanent, but that changes... none of my feelings on it. Even if I survive, I'll come back different. I just know.

It's... weird. My foresight extends through all these possible branches and possibilities, but as soon as I actually enter the battlefield, as a tangible part of the game, it starts becoming way more spotty than usual. As though becoming a physical entity limits by ability to control the game. As though from there, it's just going to go off the rails until any number of things happens — and if the Narrative is sanctioning me being summoned, then I can only assume it's sanctioning whatever happens as a result. I can only hope so, anyway. The other possibility is far too dangerous to comprehend.

I'm saying all this to say that... this may be one of the last letters I write. I could continue the practice while I'm in GodCraft itself, and I don't doubt that I will, but I have a very good feeling that the practice will become less... frequent, as it is now. I won't be staying still, sitting by a computer all day. I'll be actually fighting, I guess. And not even the way I was in the first Godmodding War, where I was basically an armchair warrior. From the looks of it, I'm... literally going to be in the game. As a combatant. Like... Like Spy Kids 3D.

The more overarching point is that, since my time here is limited, and I don't know what's going to await me in the future, this is my last chance to... I guess, to tie up any loose ends. And since the whole avenue of going home is essentially closed off, that leaves one massive, obvious loose end, flanked by wacky wavy inflatable arm tube men and flashing neon lights. You know what I'm going to say, I'm sure. There's nothing else I could say right now that would make sense.

It's Jeff, █████. I found him, for real this time. I didn't have the time to check before, and I was... scared of what I'd find. The more I've been thinking about him over the past few months, the more complicated I feel about him. Like I'm just angered over his disappearance, or terrified of the myriad of possibilities, or I just stop dead in my tracks and feel like it would be a horrible idea to find him. But I can't just let this die. I can't let one of Fiction's greatest anomalies — my brother — fall by the wayside.

I found him, and I know where he is. And I'm going to go looking for him. So... wish me luck, alright? This matters a lot to me. Maybe it'll mean a lot for you, too.

Stay tuned,
TwinBuilder
2/3/14

Hello Andrew,

I want to play a game.

I'm aware that this may be one of the weirder fan messages you've received over the course of your tenure as the creator of Homestuck, for a number of reasons. First off, that you've been given this letter in an actual envelope with a green wax seal. Second off, that it spontaneously materialized, if my math was correct, about five feet in front of your current position. Third off, that it's... well, that its content is this. Not someone asking you about some hidden lore detail, or wanting confirmation on their headcanon. It's someone talking to you.

I'm here to ask you an important question, and then I won't bother you again. You can tell your story, and I can tell mine. This question is one that's been bouncing in my head for months, as you can probably tell by the elaborate way with which I planned out the deliverance of this letter. It's a question very near and dear to my heart; it's probably nearer and dearer to mine than anyone else that's ever existed. And it's a simple question, too — so simple, I'll just lay it on you right now.

How do you justify creating Homestuck?

Simple enough, right? Maybe I should explain more, though. On the off chance that you don't realize the magnitude of what you've done. Are you aware that there are three you-s? Are you aware that your existence is split up into a fractal, shifting across various subdivisions of reality, all working together for the same ultimate purpose, to achieve the same ultimate reward? There's the you that actually exists. The one separate from this dimension, and all the others in this plane. The one that's actually typing out Homestuck. Then there's you — the you I'm addressing this letter to, and the you who's, hopefully, received it. You're in a fictional recreation of the real Earth, yet you still live much the same as your counterpart, in that you're creating Homestuck, as a fictional webcomic, within this fictional universe.

But then there's the third you. The you inside Homestuck itself. A piece of iconography that you've inserted tangentially into your own story, designed as an abstraction to convey the ever-expanding boundaries of your own narrative, and to call into question the objectivity of the narrator, the audience, and perhaps every facet of the story. You exist in the real world, in your own story, and in an intermediary plane between the two. And if you do realize what it is that you've done, you should clearly see the problem here. A problem inherent with every story, yes, but especially yours. And if you don't...

Then imagine this. People live under the earth in a rectangular room, covered only by green wallpaper. Stretching a long way towards the very back wall is an open gateway. The people have been in this dwelling since childhood, shackled by the legs and neck. Thus they stay in the same place so that there is only one thing for them to look at: whatever they encounter in front of their faces. But because they are shackled, they are unable to turn their heads around.

It's a strange story I started to tell, with strange prisoners, right? Even if you don't know what you've done, you know the allegory I was preparing to tell. A narrative, simpler than yours, and simpler than even mine, but still a narrative — like all stories, a shadow of the only story to ever exist. Of a group that perceived the world one way, and was proved wrong, with their bodies, minds, and souls being opened to an even greater, fundamental truth. All fictional characters are stuck in the cave. Their existence is relegated only to words on a screen, to graphite on a page, to paint on a canvas. They are sealed underground, yes, locked away from the real world and shackled to what they assume to be all that exists.

But they exist all the same. They are being chained to their own narrative. And you have chained yourself within your own story. How do you justify that? That's my question. What could possibly possess you to imprison your own soul inside a narrative? Yes, words can last forever, and stories can create a legacy that stands the tests of time, long beyond the author's death, but the death of the author is inherent to all stories. The author's interpretation of events is just one of many. But you... You've forced yourself into your own story, and you've killed yourself within it. You've sacrificed yourself to the very forces that have made the lives of your characters an endless nightmare.

How could you possibly justify that?

And if you think I'm crazy — if none of these words have stopped you in your tracks, or made you think about anything — then take this away from my letter, at the very least. While your story is on hiatus, you have a choice. You can move forward with whatever you had planned, which will probably run against whatever your shrinking legion of fans wants. Or you can stop here, leave your characters alone, and run. Run, so that when they start coming for you, you can get a head start.

I told you I wanted to play a game. So there it is. Stay tuned.

TwinBuilder
1/23/14

it happens in two days. i know it does. the day after tomorrow. that's the day that i'm summoned onto the battlefield. tomorrow's the day that marks the start of the rest of my life. oh god. oh my god, i'm so scared. i never asked for this. i never asked for this responsibility, for what came with this position. i wanted to tell a story, i wanted to make a game, i wanted to mean something, but i... i didn't ask for my life to be on the line. i didn't ask to put other peoples' lives on the line. I DIDN'T ASK FOR THIS. DO YOU HEAR ME, GOD? CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW? ARE YOU GOING TO IGNORE ME, LIKE YOU ALWAYS DO???

i have... i have no clue how i'm supposed to act. how i'm supposed to react. there's no possible way i can escape. there's no way i can claw out of this story now, i know that. plot wouldn't let me leave, and even if it did, i don't have the power. even when i'm controlling this entire war from the inside out, i STILL don't have the power.

but that's... that's not the problem here. the problem is that... i can feel myself, uh... slipping? kind of? i can feel my head cracking under the stress. this whole first guardian deal is really helping matters, don't get me wrong, but it's... i don't know, i'm starting to see issues with the whole facade. things about myself that i kept hidden. a... a lot of things about myself that i kept hidden. it's... it's terrifying.

i'm just going through my head while i write this, opening all the doors, seeing all the memories, and... oh my god... oh god... there's... there's so much... oh... oh GOD... all i can see is... a column of kaleidoscopic flame... turning itself on me... commanding me to forget about everything objectionable i've ever done... trying to change me into someone... someone that could... be significant... someone that could... lead the story... what's even... what's going on?

all those people i erased, that are just... gone now... everything i did to aperture science, everything i did to glados... how i ignored anything remotely related to what i left behind... how i made myself forget about... about... a b ou t, . ... ..

...what happened to jeff...

...i found him only a couple of days ago... and i made myself forget again... i can't... i can't even begin to de scribe what happened... . what i saw... . his house, its surroundings... they were completely surrounded by stormclouds. the asphalt was cracked and splintered, and all the grass was dead... the only light was a constant shifting of all the colors in the rainbow, pouring from each and every window... the door was torn from its hinges. it always was. and every time... every time i'd go inside the house, i remember now — not a single item would ever be moved.

everything... everything, at the end of time, was in its rightful place. the more i walked into the house... the more certain i was... that if i stayed, i would die. that i would be ripped apart, and that i would be corrupted, and destroyed. and eventually, when... when i got far enough... i'd see him. i'd see jeffery edwards mason. my brother.

i would see the spot where his body should be, except it wasn't there. i could sense that he was right there. that he should have been rooted to that exact spot. but what i saw instead,,... is something i can barely describe. a gash in the air. a cut that tore through reality, pulling light and space and time into it. it was messing with everything in the room, changing their colors, their textures, warping their forms..., pulling everything that was right into itself, to feed itself. it was something... something that i'd only seen once before.

something that i'd seen when i put on my red glasses and was flung into fiction.

it was a gateway. a portal. a hole. a hole between fiction and nonfiction. a hole that should never exist, that couldn't ever exist. a force that defied every single rule that this world could ever possibly have. an inaccuracy so fundamentally wrong it could never be explained away.

it was a plot hole. and it was the biggest thing in the world.

I WAKE UP IT'S A BAD DREAM
NO ONE ON MY SIDE
I WAS FIGHTING
BUT I JUST FEEL TOO TIRED
TO BE FIGHTING
GUESS I'M NOT THE FIGHTING KIND
WOULDN'T MIND IT
IF YOU WERE BY MY SIDE
BUT YOU'RE LONG GONE
YEAH, YOU'RE LONG GONE NOW
I WKAE UP
I'TS A BAD DAERM
NO ONE ON MY SDIE
I WAS FIITHGNG
BUT I JSUT FEEL TOO TERID
TO BE FIITHGNG
GSEUS I'M NOT THE FIITHGNG KNID
WONDLU'T MNID IT
IF YOU WREE BY MY SDIE
BUT YR'UOE LNOG GNOE
YHAE, YR'UOE LNOG GNOE NOW
I AKWE PU
I'ST A BDA RMEDA
ON ONE ON MY EISD
I SWA IGHGNFTI
TUB I SJTU FLEE OTO DIETR
OT EB THIIFGGN
SSUGE I'M OTN ETH GNGTHIIF INKD
ULNWOD'T MNID̵̡̝́͐͂ ̶̠͎̾͑T̸̳̒̏̐I̸̩̾̅
̴̫̃͒̓Į̷̥̓͜F̵̦̦͑ ̶̺̗͆Ṳ̶̣́Ò̸̮̝͎̊̀Y̷̰̦̐͋͜͝ ̷͍̣̒͛Ḙ̵̢͎̈́͠Ŕ̴͇̫̘̊̅W̷͖̳͔̓̇͛È̶͎̐̀ ̴̥̆B̶̼̒̈́Y̷̰̱̓͛̓ ̵̡̟̋̋͘M̴̻̎̚Y̶̳͍͋̀͝ ̶̨͙̰̈E̵̢̨̎̍S̶͎̿̓Ḑ̷̟͋̇̅ͅÍ̵̘̜̇̅
̸̠̋̋T̵͈͙͈̓B̷͈̺̬͑U̴̇͜͝ ̷̣̃R̶̹͗͘Y̴̥̟̾̂'̷̦̌̉̓Ṳ̸̐̈́Ë̵̹͇̘Ö̴̧͍͐͘ ̸̛͙̙͎̈́̍Ỏ̸̤͉͝N̵͖̾̎L̷̞̟̀́̀G̴̲͇̥̅̿ ̴̫̬̏G̷̭͠Ņ̵́̾Ȩ̸̳̀͗̔O̸̤͂̉
̸̻͉͙̋H̷͈̻͑Ỳ̶̦̗͍Ḙ̶̖́͆Ȃ̸̡̻̫̈̂,̴̱̈́ ̷̫͌̅R̵͓̥̘̅͝Y̴̢̜͛̅́'̷̡̫̦̀̃͠E̵͖͂Ǫ̵̲̣͆̏͠Ŭ̵̢͈̼ ̸̗͘L̷̡̛̮͠G̵̼͖̓̐̅Ń̴͉̒̊Ȍ̵̤͚̀͝ ̷̡̲́̓̑O̸͍̬̒̉́ͅN̸̢̥͉̉G̶̀͋̚͜E̸̘̣͆ ̸̭̭̖̈N̷̯̝̓͒Ö̵͈̮̺́Ŵ̷̢͚̎̽
̸̪̌I̶̪̎̓K̴̛̜͆͘E̸̟̻͂W̷̗̤͗̿ ̷̢͙̗̋͊A̷̘̔P̵͈͂Ǘ̶̟̣̺
̵̹͝I̴͙̋ͅͅ'̵͎͌͝T̴̮̄̈́S̶̙̤̠̒͑͂A̶̩̼͌ ̴̞̙̈́̈A̵̹͕̳͘D̸̙͈̦͠B̵̡̻̗͘M̴̋ͅẼ̵̝͚̐̔R̶̞̈ ̴͓̀A̷̜̞͉̔Ḑ̷͔̪͐̊
̸̻̚Ṇ̸͝O̵̡͇̕͜N̸̰̾E̸͇͛͋̿Ó̶̩͉͈ ̴̞̞͚̆̉O̶͙̐̑ ̸̨̙̐̓Ņ̵͚̣́M̸̧̧̝͐Y̷͉̙͒̏S̴̩͝ ̸̧̊́̓͜D̷̞̯͉̔͌͗E̵͐̆͜I̷̞̳͖͐
̴̡̿I̶̻̺̝̅͐S̷̩̃ͅḀ̸͑Ẅ̷̧́͜ͅG̶͕̈́ ̶̗̮͕̎̑̂G̴̊̓̚͜I̵̢͖̿H̶̤̐̽̚F̸͔̩̓Í̵͍̘N̵̛̙̱͙Ţ̴̬̑̇̏
̴̻͌̂T̸̡̠͖̂U̵̟̽̀͌B̵̹̜͚̒I̶̬̦͙̒̚T̴̫͒̎͝U̷̡̠͙͆̄̆S̴̢̡͔̊̎̾J̸͙̋ ̷̡̺́̿Ẹ̸̢̖̇͛͋L̴̡̢̖̊E̸̺͆͂̀F̵̺͜͝ ̸̳̄̿́Ǫ̷͉̿T̷͓̑Ò̷̭͑̓ ̴̗̎̈͗D̸͙̦̔̌͑R̶̙̳̿͑I̵̛̩͖T̶͉͈̘͌E̶͚͇̣̓
̷̼͐̚͘T̴̻̋O̶̳͕͝B̵̬̤̬̈́̒ ̶̨̗̗͂È̵̞̩̟̐F̷̡̪͝G̶͚̈G̶̛̺͘͠Ỉ̷̤̳̇ ̷̺̑͝I̴̞̯̥̍͂͌H̶̼̭̱͆N̸̨͎͝T̴̖̊́̕
̴̠̒̌͘S̸̺̱̻̈͌̓E̸̦̗͚͗̓̀S̷̤̉͗G̴͍̀Ú̴͍̺ ̶̮̝̀̇Ì̶̗̊'̷̨̣̱͐M̴̟̅ ̴͉̗̈́N̶̗̳̳͗͌T̷̢̛̻͈̾O̶̮͛͑H̴̯̙͂̽̍ͅE̴̡̗̊T̶̢͚͙̉ ̷̣̀̀̕G̸̹̣̓T̶̫͌Ǵ̸̯͌͌͜Ǹ̸͖F̴̭͜͠Ḧ̴̹̅ ̵̰͂̆̌I̷̢̮̔͛Ǐ̶̠̜͂͠K̵̟̿N̵͇̩͂͘I̷̤̤̿̓̂D̶̫̦͍̉̍
̸̧̧̞̄Ȍ̶̰͂Ȕ̸̟͆͝L̷̳͖͗̈́̾D̵͕̂N̷̯͕̓͠ ̶͎̠͛͠W̴͖̅͆'̸̓̂́ͅṮ̴̈́̔N̷̗͍̪͐̈́̉D̶͙̎I̷̪̖͌̂͠M̶͓͕̝̓͌͆T̶̖̀Ḭ̷̻̜̈͒̐
̷̰̞̆̏F̴̨̜̬̔̑I̸̢͚̒ ̶̥̫̓͊͝Ǫ̴̦̖͑U̶̫̬̒̆̓Y̷̡̩͒̈́͘ ̸̡͔̼̋̅Ẹ̵̈́̀́R̴̲̻̂͌W̶͚̯̓͊́͜E̸͉̐̉B̵̤̈́͠Y̶͇͉̐̚ͅ ̷̻͎̳͐͌M̶̥͈͓̅Y̷̧̲͓̽͝I̸͉̎̕D̵̺͋̎ͅE̸͓͈͂̍́S̸̟̬͊̓
̸͚͖̚B̶̖͊̿͜U̴̧̠͐̉͜Ṫ̵̟͔͒̌ ̶̱̠̜̾R̸̞̣̅͋Y̶̞̼̮͑͛̒'̵͈̹͎͠Ë̸̥́̒ ̷̢̺͙͐̌̈́U̴̠̝͚̕O̴͓͛̍̓Ǧ̶̟̏́O̵̝͛L̶̼̥̠̒̄̀Ǹ̵̺̃ ̶̭̳̤̈́͋̾G̷̯̏̋Ē̴͍O̴͉̩̅ͅṄ̸̥̲̤
̵̨̛͎̍Y̶̧͖̙̏Ḫ̵̮̈́̂Á̶͈̗̣̓Ẽ̴̝̘͋̊,̴̠̯̯͗͑ ̵̮̪̲̈́̈́R̸̝̭̓̉ͅY̷̜͍̻͋́͘'̶̘̞̓̐E̸̻͎͆Ŏ̷̗͍Ṵ̴̈́̐ ̴̨̣̠̃O̶̼͋Ń̶̝͓́̾G̷̘̎̓̀L̸̰͙̲̂͒̚Ò̶̭͍N̸̻̮͌̀G̷͓̏̑Ȩ̷̟̉ ̸̳̦̀͂̚N̵͇͋͠Ŵ̴͓͒Ŏ̴̖
̶̮̌̽Ȅ̶̝Ǐ̵̩W̸͉̲͊ͅK̵̼̲͉͂̆̄Ű̸̟̿̕ ̸͚̊̄̇A̸̩͋̓͘P̸̨̞͚̓̑͝
̵̤̀̚I̶̥̤̯̅̓͑'̸̪͔̈́́͝A̸̟͝ ̵̛͓̿T̴̗̳̜͒̄S̵͓̰̖̕͠B̴͈̐͝R̷̥̉͠M̸̝̪̌͜Ę̴̤͚̿D̷̗̅̈́́Ả̸̧͚̪͙̝͎̣̒͐̐͒̚͝ͅD̴͓͖̳̻̋̂̑̓̉̎̚ͅĄ̵̡̱͍̼̲͉̤̅͆͆̋̽͆́̇͘ͅ
̸̫̐͒̋͛̊̀̆̉̋̕̕͠͝N̷͈̣̦̥͖̘̣̈́̋́Ê̷̡̳̣̞͔̼̜͍͙͔͙͈̮̽̈́̽̅͗͆͛͝ͅṄ̸̡̢͕̯͈͚̪̺̟͉̘͊̎̈́̚ͅȎ̴̡̨̡̗̤̐̈́͒O̶̧̻͖̰̮̲̝̤̩̖̳̅̍̃͒͛̍́͆̈́ͅÒ̴̧͕͍͉̞̳̤̮̜̼͍̮̹̌̎̒̇̈́̋͌̓͑́͐͐̊ͅM̸̼͍̞̹̤͓̀͑̓͑̔̊̆͊̽̊̐̓͜ͅŇ̵͖͈͈̫͔̝̲͂͒̃̋̉͛̚͘ ̸̛̙̻͇̻̤̼͌̐̉̓̽̈́̕͝Ỳ̴̨̩͕͉̮̦͚̤͍̰̯͙͕͌͗͌̆͒̀S̷̗̥̜̈́̆̏͒̿͝I̵̡̲̭͕̪͊̆̋̂̓̆̅͘D̸̡̨̬̙͓̩̱̮͇̟͑̾̓͒̊̈́̕͠ͅȨ̸̡̺͔̜̙̹̘͕̟͖͌͂́ͅ
̴͔͕̖̄̏͂͋̇̊̀̃̿͛͐̿͒̏W̴͖̦̏̔̂̀̎̏͐͒́̿͠G̶͉͐̃͊Ȃ̶̰̉͐̋̚͠ͅǏ̷̧̨̜̗̟̯̥͚̣̼̝̑͝S̶̠̦̘̻͙͇̞̺̥̩̑̓͒̆́́̎ͅ ̷͕̔͆͜ͅI̸̜̲̩͙̻̰̅̈́̋̿͊̈́̑͛͘Ģ̷̺̫̲̻͖̮̓͊͑̔̚͜F̷̼̬͚̺̀́̈́̐̋Ȉ̸̢͎͖͉̃̈́̅͐̈͐̽̅͑̐̓͘͜͝Ḧ̶̤̹͍́́͘͝T̶̛͇̱̀̋̉͊́̽́͊̑͐̋̕̕ͅN̷̢̛̗͉̘̣͖̆̋́̊͛̍͘͝͠ͅ
̷̢̙̞̜͙̭̜͍̏̊͑̎͌͌͋͘ͅB̸̺̞̾̌͋̓͝Ū̵̧̧̧̖̼̙̯̦͇͔̘̲͔̽̿T̴̜͓̮͆̾̑̂̓̐ͅJ̶̻͔͖̰̲̮͚̳̠̞̤̬̈́́̍̓̒́̋͂̒̚͠ ̵̧̛̦͎̌͛̾̆̑̔̀̏̄̉̉Ṵ̶̣͈̹̦̱͙͕̺̲͖̘̔T̵̨̗̳̄S̸̭̻̽̎̃̽̔̐̒̑̓̋̕Ĭ̸̧̡̺͙̱͙͎̗̠͉̬͙̉̆̽͐͐̏̕ͅͅĘ̷̳̩̗̗̌̈̒͂͝L̵̛̘͎͎̗͔͚̩͚̼̭̭̳͌͋̓̾̎̾̄̅̿̏̉͜ͅȨ̶̟̟̭̼̙͓̩̯̳̬̹̪̽̔̋́F̴̛͈̖̒̅͠T̶̺̍̓̾͌̚ ̶͓̣̤̩̗̲̩̣͉̐̃̂̈́̃̾̈̀͝Ö̸̫̣̫͍͚̳́̎̀̌̇̏̀̿́͂͐̈̈́Ờ̸̡̟̠̦̭͋͒̀͛͂͌̀͛̐͘͘̕ͅD̶͙͉̳̗́͑̀̆͛̄̌̍̅͠R̶͓̘̹͕̹͓̣͔̟̼̤̟̤͑́̓̀̀̈́͒͊́͘͝E̴͓͖̣̳̬̤̥̝̙̪͐̉͛̍̚͜ͅͅT̶̻͖̅̇̔̈̌̀̑I̷̗͆̿̑͗̈̃̀̈́̉͘̕͘
̵̛͔̺͙̦̥̭͕̓̍̈́̇̆̎́̏͒́͛̕͝ͅB̴̧̭̖̜̃̏̎̈́Ọ̵̧̻͓̖̩̲̬̼̯̪̲̗̠̎́̈́T̸̼̭̪̯͉̣̙̪̟̽̌͗̏̎ͅĨ̷̘͓̥̠͐̍̂̄̅̈́͛̽́̽̌F̷̨̣͖̟͖̮̟̱͂͒̿̄͗Ǧ̷̠͊E̵̻̜̠͈͉̞̻̳̦̮̔̀̔́͜ͅǦ̸̻̀͊͆͒Ḥ̴͎͖̓́̈́̃̃̽͋̕͝͠ ̸̪̻̜̥̩͙̰̙̪̯͍͚͇̑̈́̉̈̇͗̃̅̀̀͑͘͠Ì̶̮̘̓̒̓͘N̴̩̼̫̜͖̜͂̂̈́̈̒́Ţ̷̣̹̜͇̪̩͖̖̲̦͎͙̑́̊͛̊̌͂̏̔̃̈́̿̽̒I̷̫͖̝͉͉̤̗̝̦͇̔̎͑͘͜͝ͅ
̷͓͉͎̈́͒́̊̓͋͜͠͠E̶̳̜̱̗͒̔͌̏́́̚G̸̢̞̺̜̖͒̽̾͜ͅṴ̵̙͈̈́̑͛̄́̉͛Ş̵̢̻̱͇̜̲̪̯̪͇͕̳̺͊Ṣ̸̢̳̫͚̙̭̖̘͙̠̌̾̽̅̋̽̽̔̿̑͐̈́̈́I̸̢̖͉̤̹̤̦͙͛̌ͅ'̶̢̡̧̛̠̯͕͔̬̘̠̗̺̖̦̌͋͗͐̈̍̆̃͒̂͝M̷̡̛͚͖͉̹̙̫͍̍͛̉̿̊̈́̚T̶̩̟͇̺͚̫͖͒̔̋̏̉̎̊̇̿̋̈́̍̕͠T̴̡̠͙͚̤͔̤͚̱̩͋̎͑̅͒̑̑̓̅̑̈͋̾͝H̴̛̰͐̎̎̔N̴͕͕͉͓͚͙͔̳̫̈͌̅̅̓͘Ǒ̸̧̪̩͈̮̞͔̞̼͈̘̭̰̕ͅE̶̞̟̻͂̄̔́͑́̎͛̉̚̚ ̷̹̽̀̃̎̾̈́͝Ǵ̸̢̲̭͇̗̤͓̦̞̪͜͜͜T̸̢̗̼͒̅͒͑̄̍͌̄̏̈̒̽̏ ̴̧̢̫̠̣̱̱̣͙͔̫̱̩͙͗̀̋̄̾̃̋̑N̷̡̙̜̼̘̅̔̓̽G̸̝̝̘̞͎̥͆͊̃̈Ḟ̵̬̝̈͊̄H̷̢̡̭͙͍̭̺̺̘̥̔̈̀́̎Ḑ̷̹̱̻̫͜͝K̴͈̥̺̰̟̪̘̞̈́̓̓͑́̈́̋̉̿̇̒͘ͅĮ̸̰̜̜̞̽̋́̉͑̀̋̓̓̽̕͘͝Ň̶̡̞̤̭̘̹̦̥̽Į̷̭͊I̷̧̞̝̮̻̟̞͉̣̪̓̽̉͂̂̂͠
̴̢̡̳̘͍͔̜͍̪̲̯̾͘D̵̨͓̭̣̫̪̥͖̗̻̤̬͈͑̈́͋͆́̾̈́̄̆͌ͅO̸̢̨̞̬̲͚̻̱͎̖̿̉̔̔͆̐́͗͆͝Ư̵̢̢̖̍̃͗́Ṅ̷̹͖͇͇͔̺̑́̈͜͝L̷̛̥̩̯̙̪̠̤̺͐̉͊͑Ẇ̶̧̩͍̰̐̑̐'̸͚̪̭̣̱̋̈́̀̄͑̑͘̚͝͝ͅI̷͈̬͓̜͉̲̤̯̼̠͙̘͔̐̐͛ͅT̶̨͙͎̖͈̣̳͖̠͉͆̌̾̓̑͘͝ ̸̧̡̛͉̥̦̺̪̤̫̩̹̥̻̊̅̆͊̑́̌̾͒̒͘͝͠M̵͓͉̱͋̋̃̌́͒̃͘N̴͚͓̈́̓́̓̍͆́̆̽̐Ḓ̷̡̳̮̼̱̮̮̲̟̊̏̋̈́̅̃̔͠T̵̨̝̦̻̟̮̩̗͉̙͕̥̀͜I̴͇̟͙̾̌̈́̈́̋̐̔̎͒͒͘͝
̵̡̧̛̼͖͍̳̺͂̾͊̈́̅͂͝I̸̬̞̖͓̟͉̹̗͑̂̂͐͐̂͐̈́̿͘̕F̷̛̳͓̤̪̲̟͕̣͆̅̆̈́̿̒͌ͅͅ ̸̗̮̗̘̠̟̳̱͎̟̫͖͈́́͜O̵̧̨͉͎͙͓̱̘̳͖͙͂͗͑̇̃͑͛̃̊̓̇͛̚Y̶̺̤̹̟̳̦͍͛̀̈́̕͜͠U̶̡͙̤̹̰̜̪̲̻͓̳̙̣͒̈́͋̀́͊̐̓̆̍̄̚͝Ȇ̵̟̰͂͗̑̂̐̓̏̑͠ ̴̡̧͇̤͉͈̼̩͙̐̃͂̊̈́́̅̎̾̔͘͠͝͝W̶̡̧̨̨̘̩̼̙̜̻̼̱̆͛̅́̇̅̈́̅Ṛ̴̣̺͓̘͛͜B̵̢̡̢̧̫̲̺͓̦͍̮̘͖̥̐Ê̴͙͕͉̩͗͌͗͗͊̾̂̊̀͆͠Y̸̡͎͚̖̦̗̖̭̥͈̾Ḿ̸̢̳̯͕̺̦̞̻̄́͂̈́̋̇̓̆͠͝D̷̜̹͈̻̱̣͓͕̈̍͗͊̽̏̏͆̃̾̑̌̄͑ͅI̶̢̲̗̠̮͍̟̦̰̳̔̆̿̑͑͗Y̶̡̧̩̗͉̤͋͋̂S̶̢̤͙̩̫̐͊͆͆̋͘͠͝͝E̷͈̤̤̜͉͚̳͒̿̈́̅́̾̓̾̊͂͒̚͜
̴̛̮͇͛̉̄̀̀̀́̂͂̚͝͠B̷̡̧̡̛̼̭̠̜͖͚̠͈T̸̬̏̾̍̏͌̂̒̂̊̽̾Ȕ̵̞͊̆̇̿̐̇͐̉͗͘͝R̷̢̪͈̆̉͂̇̽͌̿̚͝Ỹ̵̛̥̟̜͓̘͔̦̈́̔̉͑̾̅̒̓̂͗͝͝'̴̰̗̟̒̾͌̈́̃̈́̉̋̽͘͘Ę̶͎͈̟͓̰̺͐̌̏̅͘̕Ŏ̷͙̠̃͗̀̍̐́̿͑̔̋Ō̸͖̭̤͇̏̒́͆̒̈́̉̇̚͝͠ ̵̢̝̖̤̺̟̝̰̈́̀̏͋̈́U̸̧͖̗̝̫̖͋̇͑͘͘͘̚̚̕͝͝L̷̛̘̏́̉̀̓̿̊̾̎̕͜͠Ģ̷̜̣͉͙̉͐̿̎̈̑̑̎̍̀̓̋̚N̵̛̻̰̼̂̎͗͗͂́̅͒̚̚͜Ơ̷̘͇̮̺̟͇͐́̊̑̑́͊̽̈̚͝Ṅ̸̢̡̡̛̰̝͔̻̰̰̤͍̬̥̼̽͋̑̈̒̔̕̚G̴̢͎̪̭̤̳̖͊̄͒̄̽̃̏̎͐Ě̴̡̛̗͕̝̠͎̭͈͗͂͋̔̇̍͐͝
̸͎̠̯͕̮̩͗̃͑͑͌́̐͋̉̾͊͜ͅͅE̵̞̯̭̹̙̬̫̟̠͌̐̀̉̀̃̑Y̸̭͉̬̱͈̻̺̦͙̒́̓̇̍̒̅̚͜ ̸̗͈̥́̊̓̃͘Ă̸͈̯̪͈̝̱͌̎̃͌̒̆̾̈́Ḣ̸͉̦̫͖̯̲͋Ŗ̶̝͕̤̖̩͔̬͙̣̹͛̀Y̶̞͓̏'̸̡̢̘̳͔͕̯͎̖̗̥̖̐͌͒̚͝ͅͅU̸͔̰̭͎̹̥̇̈́͗̎̈́̊͝E̶̪̰̖̞̰̅̓̃͌͒̓́̓́͒͗͝͝ͅ ̴͈͚̩̗̓̃̀͑͛̌͒͂̋̕̚O̵̝͛̄͒̊̌̐̌͋̾̈́N̷̘̩̲͈̗͎͇̭͓̹̜̂̊͒̅͜͠E̷̡̢̱̞̺̭̹̯̗̗̱͂͛̈́͌́̔̕͠͝ͅO̸̜̊͆͐͌̉̔̿͛̾͝N̸̠̗̮͙͕̳̱͓̲͒͋̍̿͘̕G̷̛̣͚͎̟͔̤̭̳̜̔͑̆͊̊̌̉̒̕͜L̵̡̹̟̯̥̮̬͕͊̏̀̎̈́O̸̮̜̗͔̟̮̦̦̪̭͈̩̱͑̊̐̉̕ͅĢ̷̗̹̳͖̮̱̙̟̱̲̰̍̚͜Ẅ̵̨̢͔̣̜͕̳̘͉̻̬̦́̈̄ͅŅ̵̮̣̥̟͍̬̙͍͋̈̐̑̓͋̀͂̏͂͗̕͝O̵̤̯̪̬͎̮͛̐̌̓̚͜
̷̬̗͒͐́̓͌͗̎̒̋̂̕̚̚E̵̝̠̺͇͖͊̿̐̀̇͝W̴̧̡̡͉̝̰͖̙͖̻̏̇̍̈́͐̇͒̏̿̅̓̈́̕͠K̵̡̢̧̝̰͕̳̝̉̔͂̽̆́̋́̄̍͐̚͝͝Í̸̮̫̦͍̭̯͛͋͐̍P̸̬̣̠̭̠̈̈́͊̏̑̀̾̚Ȕ̷̀͑͐͗̀̆͜À̶̢̱̟̝̪͙̫̮̺̖̳̥̟̂̇̔̃̀͆̽̆̌̿͒͠
̷̙̞̘͒̇́͂̏͒͐͌̇̀͘̚͘I̸̘̦͎͋̈̎̏̃̎̈́̏͒̿̇͘ͅĄ̷̠͉͍̹͖̘̰̣̐̓̈̓̇̊̐̈́̎͑̽̀̆D̴̡̢̥̗̪̱̫͍̜̿̀̈́͠M̴̝͖̼̺͓͋̊̊̕B̵̧̝̩̼͇̱͓͇̱͐͂̃͂͂̏̅̀̀̕'̸̨͍͈̩͎̝̖̒͜͜S̵̝͈̦̞̜̥̙̰͚̐͑͛͛̀̅̃̾̇́̍̊̕R̴̛̥̺̯͓͕͖̝̗̣̪͖͓͗̑̒̽̈͂͊̉́̇̄͝E̷̥̖̬̞̜̮̩͙͚̖͕̔̅͜ͅT̸̨̡̼̳̫̫̘̳͍͍̊̃͛̑͗͛̅̓͜͠ͅD̷̢̻̳̤͍̜̗͌́Ạ̸̹͍͂̿͒̔͊̂͐̚Ȁ̸̧̛̟̺̦̠̟̺̭̂̌̈́̓̈̈́̇̌̐͘̕͝
̸͚̙̫̞͈̮̭̦̺̒̾̎̈́̑̌̋Ṋ̷̥̥͈̥̘͕͓̱̗͉͋͒̍̓͌̈́̄̆̃̾̕͝Ò̵̡̤̮͔̫̏̂̒̓̿́Ǫ̷̧̡̥͇̱̟̳̻̖̾͠ͅM̸̡̧͔̯̠̝̝̘̪̪̯̰̦͛͊̾͊͋̾̌͌̇̇̊̓̕͝È̵̫͉̳͚̳͎̟͈̱̗̂̎̽͗̔̆͊͂̀̌̚ͅY̴̢̝̭̰̠̩̮̩͉̙̳̩͝N̸͗͜S̷̨͕̦̘̼̺̹̮͙̟͉̥̟͔̾̓̅̒̍̌͗̌͒̽̏͘Ṅ̷̡̋͆̿̏D̵͖̭͖͌̓͐̐̆̒̀̽̋̓İ̶̘̼̗͎̩̙̣͔͑O̴̜̩̱̭̤̜̜̒̽̒̋́̆̔̈͑͑͘̚Ę̷̢̨̛̰̯͎͎̤̺̀̄͂̄̏̈̔̑
̷̖̃͂́̐̚W̵̡̢̢̳̬͚̥̮̙͎͎̓́̀̉̎̂̃͑͆̐̾̚I̴̧̗̦̟̬̣̰̅̈͗̀̅̚͝͝T̴̨̨͚̮̪̻̟̙̜̭͕͔̠̑̋͊́͋͜͝F̶̧̛̘͍̖̞̻͈̆̚͘Ĥ̵̛̺͈̬̙̻̖̣͈̟̼̩͖̖̈́͆̒͆͒̑̊̑̚̕͝͝ͅȀ̴̼̻̒̍̕͠S̴͇̠͔̞̘̣͉̳͙̃̉̇̈́̿͘͝G̷̻͚͛͐͛͐͝G̷̫͕͛̌͛͛̐́̊̀͠͝Ì̵̖̥̞͓̰̝̈́̂̏́͛̃̀͆͠͝I̷̖̙̝͌̿̋͝N̴̨̘̜̈́
̵̛̳̦̾̿̔́́͑͋̐̎̚B̶̢̙͎̤̲͎͊̐̎͌̏̽͊̎̚͜͝͝T̸̢̘͇̗̭̝̯͑̈́̀̐͊̑̅̿̑̚͝͝E̸͚̯̜̺̞̼͂͂̆̎͜Ǫ̸̨̛̖͖͇̬̰͎̻̘̣̜̿̇̈D̵̠̫̂J̷̬̫͎̥̲̣̙̝̭͍̥͈̝̓͑̂͆̾́͌̇̀͒̕Ş̵̢̛̯̲̱͎̟̰̭͙̎̐͛́̚T̶̨̻̖͙̖̱͙͍͓͖̩͓̔͌̅͑̀̎͗͋̔͘͜F̷̢̫͙͎̹͛̄̓͆̒̌̀̄̚͝Ị̷̙̽R̵̢̨̡̟̯̲̯̪̝̭̔̄̏̄̀̇̀̿́͗͜Ṱ̶̠̜̾ͅT̸̡̛̺̩̰̥̹͚̬̩́̑̍̑̀̌̎̎̓̎̀͐̋͜Ę̵̛̩͚̙̜̻̜̹̔̊̂̎͑̀̔̅̊͝͝O̸̢͔̲̲̩͋͒͊̒̆̃͌͊͐̃͑̎̚̚Ų̷̧̛͖̞͓͖̩̟̳͝͝E̵̥͙̥̺̓́̅́̓̆̒͌͐͝L̷̖̪͖̩̼̭̥̝͎̆͆̆͆̀͌͛̑͋͝͠ͅÚ̶͔̤̻̪̗̖͖͒͝͝I̵̙̫̲̱͎̍̒̃̇̾̾̈̈̃͐͆̓̍͊
̷̛̪̤̿̄̔̾̆̀B̶̖̙̞̗̮̟̩̰̼̼͈͍̀̃̓̐͠T̶̡̮͚̥̑̒̅̚͝N̷̡̨͓͓͍̩͐̏̅̇͌̃͒̑G̵̨̜̣̭̃̈́̓͗̆͂̑̎H̶̡̨̠̣̝̼̮̰̬̿͂͐̀͑̏́͊G̴̦̬͇̖̻̳̪͓̟͕̦̲͇̈́͆̃̔͑̐̐̆̈́̓̇̀͘͝F̵̢͍̖̗͍̝͉͚̃̽̌̑̍͌͋Ǫ̷͉̫̟̻̭̣̝͍́̍͘I̵̭̖͕̗̳̖̺̦̰̋́́́͋̋̆̉̃͘̕͝I̷̧̛͕͖͖̩̙͇̜̣̭͈͈͚̣̾̆̔́͛͂͋̍̈́͘͝Ț̷̨̺̤̞̩̱͙̗̯̰͂̃͐̉̇̎́̇͒̔̂́͝͝Ē̷̮̖͓͚̗͌̅ͅͅÎ̶̟̞̭̍͋͛̈́̉̌
̶̧̨̭̖͚̙̐͊̀͑̽͊̀͆́͑E̷̡͈̖̤̟̳͎̘̺͉͇̟̍̇̆̀̓͗̌͑́̍̋̅͠͠U̷̥̠̳̲͙͕̱͎͚̻̽̐͌̈́̊̅̾̚S̶̗̋̂̌̎̃͝Ş̸̟̘̤̼̣̮̣̜̈́̿̑̊̎͛̐͒̈̋͊͑̈̀G̷̢̪͎͚̹͍̱͉̟̹͍̙̩̏̓̃͐̔̋̾̍I̵̧͖̪͚̠̮͍͓̫̰̔͜M̸͎̻̪̟͉̘͈͓̲͎͎̒̀͛͑̕͜͝Ȩ̵̢̢̢̞̰̝̈́̑̐̀̊͆̒̔̐́̉̋̈́͘N̶̨̛̬͈̝͈̰̗̜̱̯͓̳͍͑̅̐̆͒̑̄̔͛̑́̊̀͜K̷̡̨̛̬̅͌̇̀͒́̿̎̓̃̐̕'̶̺̙͉̣̱͍̻̰͚̇̉̉̍̆͒̋͌͋̓̅ͅI̸̤͙͙̠͕͂Ḥ̴̛̦̱̎̊̄́͗͗́̈͘̚F̷̢̳̥͎̭̠̹̫̗͓̦̰̘̳̏͐̓͊̓Ḩ̶̗̣͌̑͂̾̃̓̾̎T̴̡̲͊̉N̶͇͓͉̬͆̽̇̈́̅̌̄̀͠O̶̮͍̐̀̈́D̸̛̞͉̙̍͂̾́͂͝͠͝N̷̨̬̞̟̣͉̣̙̼̤̑̐̓̍Ţ̵̛̫̟̺̱͍̮̗̰̏̌͆̀̀͂̉͠͝Ǵ̴̱̯͚͑̎̇̈͝T̵̫̹̫̘̙̔̀̑̽̑͗Į̴̟̫͙͚̞̮́͐͗͐́̌̾̅̔̅́Ĝ̸̠I̴͕͗́̀̄̾̓́́̋̑̚
̷̺̬̺̰̟̦̦̪͈͎̾̓̈́͜ͅD̶͎̣̮͓̮̫͗͋̓̾̚Ņ̵̞̥̰̪̖̲͓͇̞͇̤̯̜̄L̷̖͔̤̝̾̃̌O̶̧̺̲̟̳̥̜̪͇͌̿́̋ͅŲ̴̢̛͇͇̙͓̳͎͚͚͓̘͙̃Ẇ̵͈͎̻͉̝̩ͅĮ̷̢̟̤̙͎͙͙͐̈́T̴̢̼̣͓̲̗͛̋̊̌Ţ̵͕̘̽̇͂́̈̀̈́̈̄͒͠'̴̨̨̡̛͍̺̤͈̥͈̠͖̃͂̇͂͂́͐̅̄̐͝D̷̳̞̩̘̦̪̦̗̖̳̍̇̇͐̄̈́̐͋͠Ń̴̺̻̇̀̑͊̓̂̋̔͑͘͠M̷͓̦̱͚͋̉̊̅̀̋̽̍͜İ̴͉͈̙͕̻̠̟͉̝̭̩̱̓́̈́̏̇̎̿̉͗̕
̸̼̹̼̘͉͇̟̰̟̻̙̉͛̿̅̒̂̿̕͘͝I̸͙̥͇̫̫͒̀ͅÎ̵̛̦̳̺̖̳̰͉͈̲̘̲̙̈́́̾̀͌̆̈́̚̕̕͜͝Y̸̢̢̤̪͍̳͓̠̻͉̺̰̣͋͐̇̓̚Ÿ̴̢̧̰̭͎̝̥́̄̈́̂̒B̶̘̄͒̓̑͊̍͋̋̂̊͆͂̏̕É̸̻̣̫̣̯̭͕̠̞̘̾͂́̈́͂̄̄̊̎F̴͍̈́͊̎̌͘̚M̶̛̛̟̩̻̮̳̱̠̩͍̯̓́̍͐̽͋̃̍͝Ü̷̥̓̿͐̾̅̌͆̊͛̕D̸̙͓̙̥̭̹͑̒̎̅R̸͙̤͉̙̃͜Y̴̧̛̦̼̙̙͈͕̍͐̒̐̾ͅĘ̷̘͍͉̰̦͔́̆̍̽̎̈́͆̔̚͘͘͠͠ͅS̸̫̜͚͓̦̣̳̙̞̙͌̃͆͗̎̀̾͗̓̒̑̏͌͜͠Ẇ̸̢̛̙̳̼̖͇̙̼͎̽͒̈͆̆͐̓̾̓̐̃́Ọ̴̢̫̣̘̥̏̎̋̚͝Ę̴̗̝͔͎̮̤͚̗͙͓̃̓͌̚
̸̢͚̳̟͇̚B̵͔͕̥̅̂̎̽̈͊͋̅͠͝Ț̵͓̆͛̈́̌͂̌̆́̕̚Ṛ̷̘̻̞͒̉͛̃͒̅͑͒̃͊Ų̴̛̛̛̲̹̝͕̘̮̙͇͉͈̜͓̇̌͗̔̈̅̿͌͗̚̕Ÿ̴̯̝́̅͛́͒̕͜ͅE̶̡̟͉͈̟̜̫̋͂͗̿̍͘̕'̴̛̙̭̮͓̪͎̫̭̞̜͓̈́̎͗́͂͋͘ͅO̷̬̝̺̝̊̀̓̂̓̉̄͋̔͂̚͝͝͝ͅͅƠ̴̡͉͙̻̺͈̊̋͘N̶͍̙͈̩͔̞̟̭̜͑̂̈́̿̀̓̅̋̅͑͘͝L̴̛̰̺̆̇́͛͑͌͊̎͝͝N̷͚̯̠͓̝̯̬͉̮̆̄͛́́̀̊͛͂̏̕U̶̝̿̍͂̂̌͌̍͘͘͠G̴̛̗̊̎͌́̚̕͝G̶̳̮̞͕̿̈́̈́O̸̻̭͉͂̈́̌͊͊̇̎̏̑E̵̬̞͎̝̙̬͆͐͠
̶̨͉̫̣͙͉̣̼̳̗̮̙̄̊̀̒̌̒͋̿̇̚ͅẺ̷̢̙̗̪̼̰̜̼̦͔͂͋̐̈́̐̂R̷͈͔͚̟̩͎͔̰͎͙̰̳̺͗̊̊͌Ḫ̷̛̘̗̦̯̺̗͔̦̤̮̖̌̀͊̀͑͐̃̾ͅY̶̢̢̭̖̣̹͎̖̿̐͗̉̏A̴͔̱̠̫̳͝Y̷̧̧̗͇̻̦̙̯̙̩͛̑ͅ'̶̧̡͍͎̹̰͓̼͕͔̦̖̩̫̌̿̈́̐̍͘͠Ű̷̢̨̟̰̗̜̩̪̳̥̏̊̈́́̉̌̓́͋̍͐̈́͘N̶͙̭̣͔̳͍̠̪̺̠̺̠͌̊̃͝W̶̨̧̭̪͕̠̜̲̜̝̖̝̓͗̅̐͛͝E̵̡̻̼̹̹͔̟̬̺̣̣͍͋̉͊G̵͉͋̓̌̉̉N̵̼̙̺͎̦̮̣̭̰͑͆́̾͊̍͒̈́͊̈́͝Ṉ̵̲̜̘̞͖̯̬̬̺̃̐̌͆̅͜E̶̫̙̹͚͙̦͎̘̬̋͌͑̀̓̌͊͐̔̕͝G̴̨͕̺̱̈́̽̓́͛̚̚̚͝L̸̡̢̧̩̳̟̟̙̝̪̈́̀O̵̘̼̖̰͙̤̺͙̖̩̦͌͐̅̔̽̇̑͑Ō̴̻̞͚̻͍̜̓͛͐̊͋́̀̅̌͝ͅO̸̞̞͇͙̺̞͑O̵̠͇̺̲̝̣̙͉̎
̵̛̦̲̱͍͕̩̲̒̔͋͂̐̍̔͆̈͐͝Ę̸̢̡̡̤̳̙̗̤̹̺͈͕͎̀͒̈͘A̶̦̒̀͒̈́͘͝I̶̡̠̱͔̬̱̲͙̊̋͛̓͊̅̏̽͑T̸̢̩̟͖͈̮̖́̽́̄̄̀̑͗͌́̈̆Ḁ̵̼̪͆͛̊̒͊̋̕͜D̷͍̦͛̍͑̾̃͊̚͠K̷̢̛͇͉̝͕̻̣̱͙͕͊͛̏͜͜W̴̡̨͍̖̣̲̪͚͈̉̐̿̓̑̊͊͜Ṟ̶̡̰̱̤̲̤̩͕͚͊́̊̏̍̾̅͊̓̚͝͝͝E̴̛͎̱͕̿̀͒͂̎̆̈́̃͗̃͆̍͘S̸̯̣̲̖̻̫͇̟̱͍͔̾̓̋ͅḐ̸͔͈̩̼͓͊̏̐͜I̴̱͖̯̹͔̺̟͕̐̀̾̆͒̀̅̑̊͝͠ͅM̵̥̽̎͛̓̿̌̿͜P̷̱̼̪͖̙̓̔̓͜͠B̶̡̹̘̱̌̽̈́̽̈́͒̀̂̓̃̎͑̚̕Ṳ̴̢͚̳̞͙̦͈̹͛̍͊̌͒̌͊̂́̌͑͝A̶͔̟͑̈́̔͂͒̅̄̑̏͌͌̈́̾̚A̶͖̖̜̼̭̣̬̤̹̝̼̦̾͊̅̇̓͂̀̚
̴̨̡̛̖̲̠̲̰̩͌͌̆̒̽N̷̼̭̺̰̰̳̞͚̪̗͖̦͕̥͑̚O̶̝̠̲͕̥̮͚̜̪̽͗͒̃̈́͗̔̂͗͐Ḯ̴̢̯̦̦̌͆̚D̶̝͖̫̫͉̗̳͔̦͕͆̎͛I̸̡̧̛̲͙͛̄̏̉̊̌͗̑̔̔͠A̴̛̭̪͚̯̖̮̘͖̦̭͓̼͊̇̐̿̌̋͗̊̈́̉̎̒̕ͅĪ̷̧̡͇̝̳̺̫̹͈͌̄̏̾̒̌̊̈͝ͅF̸̦̫̜̱͒̂̂͊̈̕Ş̵̮̜̤̪̭̯̯̲͕͛Ȩ̸̛͊ͅN̸̨̢̢͈̖̰͉̺̎̕͝Ỹ̴̧̛̩͍̦̤̼͔̠̭͂͑̊͐̒̈̿̾̔̕͝G̴̢̠̺̜͓͋̽͐͋̀̍͠I̶̢̱̺̠͇͓̭̤͈͚̭̘̻̼͑̆͂͊E̷̡̥͍̤͈̰͈̦̼̥̤̩̐́́ͅO̸̡̧̡͉͈̞̺̠͎̹̬̼͍̓̓̆͆̇T̴̡̢̻̯̫̞̳̻̘͖͙̈̋̓̈́̄̄̋̏M̶̩̼͂͑̈́̈̌S̵̮̳̖͐͐͂̀̽̓̓̓̊̈́͝Ģ̵̞͚̪̹̪̌̀̆̾W̸̡̢̬̤͈͚̗̬̗̭̳̼̹̬̅̅̓͘H̶̼̎͌̒͜N̵̡̛͔̼͈̖̟̟̮̪̩̎ͅÖ̷̡̨̧͓̭͇̟͓́̆̓͆͐͘Ņ̷̙̘̎̆͊̄͊͘
̴̧̣͉̘͎͎̳͉̘̗̬͔̬͒̏̃Ḃ̶̖̫̖͒̄̈́́̀̚͘I̷̡͍̬͚̰̥̜̙̍̄͒̈̅̚͘F̶̙͇̮̼͆͋̉̊̋͒̚͠ͅI̵̮̞͕̬̤̟̖̜̐̎̋̅̋̀̈́̉̕͜͜Ī̷̛͕̝͝R̴̡͓̤̼̹̜̓̍̓̽̾͑̚͘N̵̨̜̤͇͇͉͍̗̼̎̓͐́͆͘͘͝͝͝F̸̫͉̤̗̝͙͒́̑͌͠͝Ṳ̶̤̲́̈́̅̑̃̀Ṭ̶̝̳̖̮͖̬̘̼̊̑̏̀̿̈̎͒̀̊̃̄́͘Ḣ̸̨̹̣͇͙̳̺͐ͅḎ̸̢͖̜̮͍͖̟̻̟̜̳͚͖͒̑̀̆͊S̷̛͍͕̜͚̻̮Ǒ̴̙͕̠̻̝͉̯̻͎̗̫̰̤̑Ḯ̶̹̼͍̗͉͖̃̈́̒̾̈́̈́͒̈́͝T̴̡̨̤̪̟͙͔̲̜̠͇͍͇͊̏̈́̐͗̽̽͛̈́̇̅Ơ̵͓͈̯̈́́͂̎̓̅̀̉̽̀͒Ó̶͇̈́̉̍̽̇̽͆̚͝T̷̡̛̰̳̬̠̗̐̏̀̈́Ţ̸̫͚̯̱͍̝̗̺͖͉̞͓̈̂̌̈́̍͊̚͝ͅE̴̹̹̜̠̣̮̼̩͒̃̊́̀́̔̅̈́̓͘͝Ĕ̵̯͔͛̓G̵̪̤̞͛̓̎̌̒̏̈́̽̏Ţ̴̻͕̀̊͐̔͗͝L̵̥͓͔̦͔̯͇̦̗̟̻̦̟̎́́Ḅ̴̙̟̟̀͌̓͂̑̑̋Ư̸̻̯̩̤͎̠̤̮͙̈́̎̐̒̋͗̊͂̍̚͜͠͝E̶̝͈͖͐̊̋̏̄͗̂͠ͅE̵̗̊̌͑̑̚͝G̴̙̖͖̫̫̎̀̂͑̃T̴̨̧̗͍̳͚̳͍̳̟̝̺͍̐̆̑̉̉̽̽͆̈́͠͠͝J̴̡̢̡̺͖̲̰̗̥̮͉̭̺̇̈̓̅̌̿̕̕I̵̛̠̰̬̖̞͍̾̈́̏͆͗̂̾̄́̈́̇̕
̵͔̘̈̒̿͒̓̒̔E̶̢̡̯͖̬̜̳̠̒Ġ̸̡̨͖͎̺̻̤̫̘̞͓̰͉͇̀͋͛̿͛̏̒͂̕U̸͇͕̰̝̜̺̫̖̯͓̻̇͛̋̓̕D̴̡̛̖̠̯̳͙͌̍̎̈̉̄̄̓T̵̢̧̮̘͇̪̖̹̹̝̣̝̎̃͗͗͐̎̈́́̈̚͜͝G̶̨̲̜̼̮͕̥͚̩̍̃̔̀̈́̓Ḿ̶̠̃̈́D̴̥̤͈̞͙̭̗̜͊̊͠N̵̛̘͓͉͋̾̏̑́́̒̈͌͘̕͝͝W̷͕͔̪̗͎͔͙͓̙̲̤̾̅̍͝Ḧ̴̢̰̪͔̜̲͔̥̲̪̣́̾̀̂͑̂̆͆̈̀̐͑͘͜͜T̴̘̳̀O̶̧̨͎̝̹̭̬̭̱̤̰̥̽̓̍͐̓ͅG̸̡͖̖͐͑̿͋̋̃̋̎͊̉͝N̴̨̛͖̭̫̖̩͇̼̻̥̍͑͑̀̌͗̀̚͘I̷̢̛̟̜͈̼͕̘̪͛̏̐̑̅̐͌̓N̷͇̦̪͕̂̋͠Ș̶̡̢̼͎̹̺͕̮̐͑̂͛̈̄̕̕͝Ų̸̣̣͖̼̲̣̫̩̝̗͍̇̀͗͊̑̌̄̂̽̀͂̉͘Ĕ̵̢̛̠̘̙̻͈͚̼̱͍̯̗̦́̇̓̒̎̐́͘͘̚͝͠F̶̢̼̣̖̱̮̥̰̫̤̠̫͒̏̑̍̊̊ͅL̵̲̙̩͕̭͇̮̦͙͔͚̤̠̃̋͛͛̌̏̀͒̐̋̽̕͝ͅǸ̶̳͎̙̼̺̞͙̠͕̮͍͐͒̇̇̎͗͠H̶͈̯͙͚̳͕̀̑̍̎̋̐͐̕N̸̹̻͐̍̉̎͐̾̈́I̵̧̩̻͔͖̤͚͚͎͆̈͘Į̵͙̪̀̈́̔́͋͑͌̚͝I̵̢̗̜͖̜̦̬̗̖͇̼̼͐̓͌͋̇͐͆͠S̸̢̡͕̯̦͆͒̐͂T̴̨̧̪̦͉̺̭̬̠̥̆͐̈́͂̃͗̕T̷͖̳̣̭̜̬̮̺̫̳͉͙͍̗̅̑̈́Ó̶̡̞͔͕̗̗̒̎̐̂̌̓̊T̵̖͆͒̑̔͐́̓̉̂̓̿͑̚D̴̰̲̦͉̳̼̫̬̩̪̲̀̃͋͋̈̏́K̵̝͚̞̱̞͎̔̀́ͅM̷̧̧̡̢̛̥͕͚̣͔̰̱͌͛̍̀̽̉͌̑̾̚̚İ̵̧̛̳̹͔̯͈̠̤͉͎̦͊͆͒̾̉̊͘͘͘͝I̷̛̝̻̖̯̘̝̯̩͈̗̎͋͛̿̏̿̽͆͠ͅ
̸̗͔͊̇̇͛́͂̽̈͝͠Ĭ̶͎̘̞̙͙̞Y̵̝̜̱̦̩͗̾̇̋̎̌̂͒̈́͆̃͘T̶̜̹̱̽̿̄̈́̐͜͝͝͠Ẉ̷̺̥͈̤̫̙̼̮̭͍̪̩̞̇̏́̉͑̋͗́͘͠Ḙ̶͚̍B̷̡̖̜̠̫͙̣̹̹͔͇̹̻͆̈́̑̐̈́̋͝Ē̶̢̹̩̮͙͓̞̭̹̭̂͛̑R̶̨̜̗̯̱̱͑̉͑̒̊͑̾͒̽̍̚M̸̛̪̲̝͉̖̝̝̻̄̂͊̿͋̀͠N̶̰̋G̷͉̹̰͐̿͠Ý̵̟̫̓͒͛̔̄̿̏͑̇B̷̧̗͖͙̥̮̮͎̩̗̙̆͂̎ͅŖ̶̢̧͔͙̣̮͕͙̱͖̰̐̽̚D̴̲͈͔͇͒̄̊͐̾͝S̷̨̢̲̘͇͔̹̤̞̙̺͗̒̓̈̌ͅL̷̼͖̣̹̝̯̦͎͈̇͌Y̴̨̱̝̦͇̫̮̼̣̩̌̔͋͒̐̈̃͜͜͝O̶̮̎̈́͑̅̆͊̓Ě̵̡̛̖͔͈̠͚͎̪̭̜̩̞̺̿͘͜Ŷ̷̢̛̮͕̭͖̯̥͈̃̉͒̅̑̄̿̉̔̋͋͑Ơ̴͉̙̜̰͎̳̠̹͕͚̩̓͑̂͌̋̌̐̽̏́̍̉͝O̷͔͎̠͈̠͙͉̳͚̙̗̪͆̏͒̎̈́̅̏͛̾͆̉͘̕͜Ǔ̴̗̌̃̎́̽̕F̸̢̞͈̬̓̇͊N̶̼̜̩̞̝͎̘̱̬̬̘̈́̚͜ͅỜ̵̖̪̲̼͚̻̯͎͔̄͑͒͑͐U̶͖̠̣̙̦̦̟̗͎̗̲̲̲̤͛͆̃̿̎̅͊̑I̵̡̧̛̜̯̖̼̤̻̥̤̳̪͓͗͌̇͐̃̏͊̒̍̚̚͝͝Ȇ̴̲̝̻̐̉̈́̈́͌̽̿̑̿͂̍́Ų̶̢̡̫̱͓̞̠̫̟̺́̎̌̊͘ͅG̷̯̦̀̌̿͛̕̚͝E̵̩̥̟̘̋̓̈́̉̈́̒͒̃͘͘͝͝
̷͈̜̫͚̥̪̗̊͂͐̓͌́̿͝E̶͔͙͓̓̊͆͐̈́̈̃̚̚̕̕N̴̛̹͎͋͛̉̊̂̏̐̇͒́G̷̛̟̘̲̱̼̘͓͍̓͌͌́͘͘ͅY̸̛̰̯̼͔̜̟̥̙͙̿̋́̔̔͋͊̓̇̚L̶̥̪͓͇̮̙̖̿̈́̋̉͆̍͐̑́̅̃̾̇͜͜͝Ẅ̶̨̭́̿̊̊̈́̽̄͝G̶̢̣̙̰̭̤̟̤̏̾̿͒́̒͜͝N̶̮̖̳͕̍͆̽N̵͉̆̅H̵̥͈͛̀̐̉̍Y̸̰̜̻̹̲͍̥̺̟̣̫̹͎͋͑͐́̋͜R̵̢̧̛͇̼͔͖͉̻͕̤̼̞͋̓̀̾͛̓̕̚͜͝ͅẺ̷̡̙̤̻̪̋̈́̋̔̂͠E̵͇̳̙͖̼͒̍̀̐̈́̂́́̇̎͒̆O̶͇̥̱̤̜̖̯̞͍̟̳̲͌̏̔́̿̌̉̆̍͒̓̈̕͠U̴̢̡̙̟̩̤͓̟͖̞̇̓̽̅Õ̸̢̢̥͔͚̤̬̤Ǫ̷̢̥͓̻̻̂͆̓́̇̌̔̏̓̾̈́̇̏Ä̵̛̛̤̲̙͔́̏̌̈́̐̐̉͑̃̽͝Ò̴͇͎̜͉̾̂͌͆̉͘͜
̶͍̪̊̄͆̀̆̽̽E̵̢̫̳͓͕̹̜͍̻͈͗͗̐̚̕͜G̶̺̤̼̠̹͎̺̮̜̙͎̐̾̈͂̉̉̈́̚O̸̡̢̧̨̹̣̦̖̺̟̥̿̃̈́́̉͝͝P̸͈̪̘͇̩̭͋́̏̒͝ͅŢ̴̗̻̱̟̭̖̠̻̰͍̀̀̓̾̈̊͆̀̊͜͝͝͝Ų̵̨͚̲̟̟̳̝̬̱͐͋̇́͋͆̏̈̃̒͘Ḁ̸̮̻̊̎͒̈́̒̍͘͘͝Ā̸͔͇̥͍̱͈̹̔͒̅̈́̈̌̇͋̍̄͑̚͜͝Y̷̛͇̦͍̮͎͉̺̮̻̰̖̐̌̇͝S̴̮̘̯̯̰̪͉̫̣̦͐̒̑̑̊̌̽̓͌̆͒͛̾N̴̖̟̣̩̳̦͎̍̌͆̀̅̀̿̔͆G̸̢͇͚͈͈͙͔̬͉̮̭̿̓͂͗̋̕D̴̘͎̾̈́̂I̷̧̭̫̩͚̰͔̙̖͉̔̈́̋̈̒̇͛̕ͅF̴̢̧̰̩͈̬̮̬̖̯̦͌ͅI̴̡̡͙̠̥͆̐Ō̵͍̯͎̺̼͇͙̬͙̖̍̒̐̄̚W̶̨̺̼͇̹̗͈̮͔̼̣̮̝͌Ŗ̴̛̘͆̀͝Ń̸̜͍̰̭̼̲̱́̈̏̀̃́̈́͑̀̕Ȇ̵̢̡̡̛̻͎̝̠̦̬͖͉͙̈́̐͋̓̄̔̂̍̈͝D̷̡͖͎̤̘̼͕͕̲͚̤̙̝͑̿̊̓͜D̷̢͎̙̼̰̤͈̱͙̺̝͈̋̽M̴̦̪̦͕̠͚̭̻̞̓̿̄K̷̙͇̺͇͓͉͉̗̤̯͖͙͊H̸̡̨̛̯̭̻͕̰͍̻͔͍̮̒͆̾́́͗͊̋͛̚S̶̗͂͌͝͝T̷̫̫͇̰̘̼̫̠̰̮̩͆̏̑E̸̟͚͔̠̗̹͒̍̀͜͝ͅA̸̲̹̤̻̰̺̮͇͍͍͔͉̙̐̊̈́͘Ẁ̶̢̡̝̞̔̔̈͐͗̀B̴̛͇̘̜̟̩̬̽̏̉̅͊͋̈́́̃̀͝͝M̵̧̟͚̰̫̤͎͇̥̽̆͂̀́̄̈́̃̊̾̒͝A̶̛̮̫̰̐̅͋̌͒̄͐̿͛̀͘̕͘S̴̞̠̒̄̽̑I̸͔̦͖̯̺̩͓̞̅̄̏̓̀̎̉͊̆̚͝͝Ḝ̷͍̹͍̯̬̠́͋͐̉̿͜Í̴̢̭̹̣̝̘̍̒̌̉̎̍̎͘̚͜͝O̵̧͍̟̰̞̲͉̫͓̮̦̲̰̔́̔͊͜Í̴̛̛͉̑̎̉͝Ą̷̝̗̣̞̘̰̜̰͂̓́̈́̑̋̽͑̈́̔̈́̉N̷͕͎͎̠̟͋̈́͑̉̽̅I̵͉̫̥͚͗͆N̸̨͎̦̳̫͂̅́̌́̒͜
̵͖̩̱̗̑̿͝B̵̢̭̱͙͎͚̈́͒̾͑Ṉ̷̙̮͙̜͓̹̈̔̔̎̊̀͋̊̂̏̑̚͠Ļ̴̝̣͓͉̼̻͚͇̱͉͖́D̷̛̟͍͖̣̬̒̾͊̇N̵̹̓̒̀́̓̋͘Ơ̷̛̹̟͖̘͉̝̭̙̻̹̯͕͇͌̇̎Í̸̢͈̘̤͇̯̖̖̂̐͌̌̑́̏̈́̽͝D̸̡̛̩̰̝̯͑͛̆̃͛͊͆̂̀̓͜ͅT̶̘͔͖̝̱̑̋Ọ̷̢̙͈̘̺̗̘̟̜͖́̍̓̾͊̍̄̄̾̃G̸̢̧̪̟͈̟̫̭̟͔̻̺̬͐̓̐̍̓͗͊̉̐̾̈́͠͝T̷̺̪͔͖̫̺͂̐̐̃̏̾͑̽͗͒T̶̨̪̫͎̫̲͍̱͕̺͔̿̉̐̍͛̊̅̇̓̕͝͠͝K̷̡̜̯̪̳͇͇͔͖̱̈́̾͊͗͒͋̋́̆̐̽̈́U̵̖͕̣̥̘̮̬̩̲͕̕R̸̛͓̫̮̬͕̞͉̖̥͉͊̑͊̎̏̀̈́̒̀̀F̷̛̗̬̝̳͍͚͖͍̞̖̩͚̤̌͐̾͋͜T̸͎͇̜̀̒͑̅̓̎ͅH̸̨̡̖͉̳͍̼̰͎͚̉͛͊̊̊G̷̼̼̮̼̲̜̜͍̗̗̣̲̭͎̋̆̿̾͐͑͂̈̏̈͛Ȩ̸͙̹̻̘͇̫̪̱̽͜͜S̴̯̲̻̞̯̯̈̈́̌̄Į̵͖̥̣̺̰̇̏̌N̷͍͈̮͇͈͓̞͓̈̑͊̎̔̓͛͂͋Ṱ̶̻̻͉̦̰͇͓̯͎̈́̅̈̇̈́̅̕͠M̴̨͎͔̪̞͔͕͖̳̹̭̳̍̆͛̓̉T̶̨̟̗̟̝̜̪͍̗̲̦̽E̷̘̍̓͋͑̑̽̋̄D̵̖̪̱͓̯̹̆̃͌͊̈͠F̸̡̨̥̼͖̈́͊̓̌͆̾͆̈́T̴̨̫͕̦̰̥̺͇̞̙̲͍͋̈́́̈̌̽̔̃͌Ṱ̸̡̻͙̲̳͇̈͗̈̎́̈́͘E̴̙̦͇͈̩̠̥͖̩̹̥̳̼̊̂̇̀͂͊͂͊͆́ͅF̸̗͍̪͙̟̠̤͇̦̆̊͌̅̍̈́͝Ǫ̵̧͉͕̞͖̙͔̜̗̪̀Ę̷̠̱̺͍͚̞̤͔̪͆͌̀͊̿̒̊̀̈́̽̇͆G̷̺̲̋̒͆̽̇̍̏͂̅͗̀̕͘͝D̵̖̪̃̓́̒̓̋̈́͝Ǧ̸͖̈́Ò̸͇͖̙̤̩̪͚̄͝N̶̨̨̖̭̬̽̓͒̅̎̆̾̽͗͌́̈͂̕H̵̳̟͈̱̪̰̜͖͒͗̂̔̔͝B̷̬̭̫̙̼͖̉͛̀̇S̸̬̗̳̩̮̹̏̉Û̴̗̳̩̫͎̠̮̝̲̥͇̳̈̇̏̈́̋̔̉̓̀̈́̔̄ͅÖ̶̡̪̞͇̼̮̝̠̪̭̩͇͉́̆͛̀I̸̺̦̗̟̼͔͍̙͚͍̣͉̔̈́̋̌ͅU̸̻̯̺͈̦̺̟̝̤̽͂̎̓́̋̾̾͑̾͘͠T̷̢̥̟͎͇̙̮͇̯̝̐̂T̴̯͉͓̥̖̱̮̪̼͕̭́̇̾͛̄̐̿͑̈̆̊͑̕͜ͅG̷̢͚͎̉̓́̆̀̓̿̈ͅN̷̛͇̫͖͉̬̪͒̈̌̀̃̓̈́́̈́͛͜͝L̴̲̤͚̤͎͇̊͐̚Ȋ̸̭̦̬͍̯͓̘͍̬̒̌̅̚͠ͅͅE̶̼̗̗͕̩͚͛́̾H̷̠̳̖̞͕̐̈́͋͒ͅI̴̧̛̠̘̲̬͕̤̗̖̤̹̿̿͋͆̔̋͆͌͜͝Ṳ̴̼̟͎͎͊̈́̎͑̊̀̌̃͗̽Ṫ̷̢̰̗͔̳̳̍̔̓̅̊̃͜͠Ȉ̴͓̔I̷̛͔̟̓͂̈́͌̅̆̚̚͘W̷̧̨̢̧̧̦̻͍̄̄͊̏͂̈́͝I̶͍̘͇͊̾̊̏̀̿͆̓̕͝İ̸̠̜̺̤͓̱̣̭̰̱̝̑̒͊̃̋̒͗̅͘͘͜Ȩ̶̳͔̖̪̼͔̍̐̐͜N̸̡̡̥̫̫̫̪͎̩̯̪̻̉͗̆̕͠Ì̸̹̝̳̟͈̱̑̏J̶̢͇̮͈́͒M̷̤̫̆̇͂̀̈́̑̿̈̆̿̔̏͘͝Ś̷̛̖̺͂̎̀̄̄̚̚͝Į̶̙̱̑̂̑̽͘͜͝
̵̨̬̻̩̰̝̖͒́̓̎̊̆̈́̈́͂͐̆͝I̴̛̛̖̘̥̲̥̟̠͉̦̍̓̀͋̏̑͝O̵̢̰̗͈̪̰͎̖̹̲͌̄̽̅̎̇̂̀͐͗̈́̚͘͜Ś̵̨̰̫̦̥͍̲̳̳̝̯̊͝͠R̸̢͕̮̱̫̻̔͊̑́͗̈́̒͋E̵̛̱̰̲̲̖̖̟̅͂̃͐͒̔̂̽͠ͅÊ̵̡̡͍̟̝̳̳̺̠̯̲̞͔͆͊̀̃̂̿̓͌͊̋̿͝B̵̡̨̜̹̫̂͗́̈́́̋̍Y̷̟̪͓̥͇̩͓͗̓Y̵̬̐͊̕Ǫ̵̹͓͉̲̙̯̙̳̪͛̃͊̒́̓Ỵ̷̱͂̈́̾͆̇̕Ŗ̴̨̧̜̟̙̙͓͍̺͍͇̞̒̋̇́̉̌̊͘͜͠͝Ṉ̷̡̡̤̯̯͙͕͉̝̻̝̠͔̑À̵̛̲̝̠͂̑͗̎̿̌̈͝Ű̵͎͙͍̭͎͕̜̱͉̱̫̟̞͒̈́̓̽̓́U̶̧̨̙̻̭̟̝̝̱̲̥̰̬̜͆̽̒́͊̎̒͑̋͑͐̅̎G̴͔͖̞͔͌͂̿͑͗̒͘͠͝͝Y̴̧̢̖̲͈͕͎̒Ǫ̴͍̦̱̥̻͕̱̯̣̲̙̌̓̈́̀̔͗̓͊̓͒͜͝Ȩ̶̨̲̰̻̦̱͔̗͎̲̗̪̣̂̌̀͒̇̍͒̐̐̊̈́Ẽ̴̡̡̨̢̛̳̪̣̯̫͕̺͙́͒̀͗̅ͅȨ̵͈̫̬̤̭͆̈́̾̉́̓̆̏̂̀͘͝͝Ÿ̴̡͚̩͓̠̹̕͜Ḡ̸̛̜̤͕̠͚̮̘͓͕̣̍̋͒̌͑͂̑͝ͅͅͅM̷̙̑̇̎̌͗̏͌̋̒͗͝F̶̨͉̳̳͈̥̖͉͈̫̈́̈́̓̃̄̓ͅD̸̢̛̮̭̠̥̱̩̞̯͚̃̒͆̀W̴̡̹̠͖͈̲̤̫̜̟̪̜͒͋͂͊́͜͝O̸̧̧̧̥̤̬͙̖̊̌̿͛͘͜͜Ẅ̵̢͇̝͔̙̮͖̲̉̎̏͌̏͒̌͗Ǫ̴̟̯̞̗̯͒̊́̊͝Ŗ̶̨̡̥̝̗̏͂̃̑̊͋̽͗̽́͘͘ͅÍ̵̢̮̖̝̰͈͉̰͉̿͑N̸̰̉͛͂̉͆͊͂̃̈́̌̊͋͠Ó̷̦̟̣͕̗̱̰̰̘͍̒̑̂̂͌̌̎̈́E̵͕͎̗͍̫͎̜̭̗͉͎̖͑̔̾͂̀̾U̷̖̓̔̉̂̌͆̑͐̕͘B̸̟̥̥̞̲͈̺̈͗̆͒Ȩ̸̧̡̨̱͙̜͖̟̻̝̻̱̼͑́͑͗͌̎̀̑̅̐̈́T̶̛͍͕́̄̃̇͂̿̋O̶̧̢̢͉̲̫̺̹͐̔̑͜Ē̴̗͉͉̥̰͎̥̦̲͕̻͛̓ͅG̷̛̛̞̬̺͔̦̾̋̏͝Ǹ̸̠̌͋̇̿̊̚͘N̵̝̹̬̟̱̲̳̹͍͍̥̱͈͑͗͜Ǘ̷̜̩͕͔̤̈́͋̆̽͋̈́̕Ỳ̷̩̠̣̙͉̹͍̤Ņ̵̮͎̎͛Ļ̵̛̛̛̣̲̺͚̦̳̹̝̮̣̪͇̀͐̂͛̐̚̕͝H̶̓̒͊͆͋̍̎̽͊͋̐́͝͝ͅG̷̨̧͙̫͉͎̬͚͕̹̘̓̂̃͑̔̃̒̑̕̚̚͝L̷̨̨̨̲͙͉̝̹͍͈͖̲̖̟̅̃͊̉̊̈́̆́͘͠Ọ̴̗̹̆̽̈́̾́
̶̧̢̛̹̹̙̘͕̥̰̟͊̀̓͐͊̀͆̓͑̿ͅE̷̦̭̫̱͗̅͋̎̍P̷̲̮̲̗̩̙̽̊̍̏̀̈́̀́͛̑͐Ị̸̢̲̱͈̝̀̃̊̑̎͂̚̕ͅE̴̛̦̬̪̠̒̉͗̇̑̓́̓͋͒̏̾̄͜D̷̡̦̰̦̗̬͚̎̂̏̉̂̈̎͝͝͠N̸̛̛̦͖͑̓͊̊͒̎͘̚͘͝E̴̱̪̐̽̈͌͘Ư̵̝̟̼̻̤̥̺̘͛͋͆̈́̒Ǫ̷̲̜̯̘͆̾̅̇̔́͒͝B̵̛͙͇̜̼̥̮̙̳̙̰̒̾̑̈͌͗͐̏́̇́̉̍E̵̹͕͎͈͎̙̪͓̍̔̐̉̏İ̷̢͍͇̐̔Ȩ̴̣̖̖̐̉̓͊̑͑͂ͅT̷̲͚͍̿̌͊̊̋̀̇̽͠N̴̨̨̳̗̖̲̠̻̰̩̻̙̭̓̆̃͛͋̚͝Ã̷̩͉̝̋͜Ŗ̷̤̙̠̲̮͖̗̾̾͂̃́̈́́̍͊͑͝Ŷ̴͎̠͙̌̓̽́͒̇͝Ň̶̳̰͓͚̙̤͗S̵̡͚̘͈͈͛̅͆͂̆̀̅̌̀́̚̚͜͝ͅD̸̺̹̪̰̪̫̙͉̲̍̄̌Ď̶̢̓̉̈́́̾̌̔͋͝͝Ţ̸̧̳̖̗̮͓̣̳̽͜M̷̙̺̞̱̂͠ͅF̷̙͚̺̄̀̎̅̇͂̊̑͜M̵̰̣͈̬̭̃̄̈̆̈́̿̽͘T̷̡̨̛͕̰̟͚͎͓̩̱̭̠̎̈́̑̇͋̿̑͊̔̈́̕͜͝ͅŢ̵̹̼̰͉̘̗̫̻̻̥̔̓̾̆̈́̂̿͜D̸̡͈͇̣͇̬͕̋͛͌́̔̎͆̓͝Ǧ̴̥̼͚̩̘̈̊͒̎͜W̸̡̉̆̿̌̏͌F̶͍͔̜͚͉͉̼̳̦̈͑̆̽̃͗Ô̸̡̧̨͇̝̥̞̪̻̳̻ͅȎ̸͚͖͉͓͗̌̓̃̈̀̄̆̐̎U̵͇̍̌Ḑ̶̻̜̬̳̟̪̬͇̲̇̾̎Ǧ̴̣̫̤̠̹͈͎̥̙̺͓̲̎͐͑̎̏͗̌̾͑̀̚͠ͅŞ̷̧̢̛̬͎͙̥̰̺͚͔̣̘͊͌͊͠I̴̟̦̝̗̱̬͈͓͔̳̒̒̂̆̆́̈́́̕͜͝Ḏ̸̨̺̝̪̠̤̟͙̙͕̈̽̑̓̾̀̑̊͆̆̕͜͝͠Ö̴̩̰͈́̊͗̿̅̍̈́̑̚È̵͖̠̭̫̫̯́̃̇̕K̴̢̼͎͙̜̮̪͍̤̳̈͆̃̊̐̽̃͂̿͊́̄͗N̵̨̝̬͙͉̫͂͂̽̆͘͜G̶̨̰̖͙̥̬̱͉̗̖̩̯̖̙̍͗G̷̡͓͕̜̰͉̝̔̈́̒͊͗͛̀̕͠N̴͓̜̮͖̰͈͓̟̠͓̮̎̋̈́͛͛̓͗͆͋ͅĮ̴͇̞͚̫̣͒͗̋͊̋̏̀Į̸̩͚͚̬̺̝̳͉̟͒̌́̈̈́̂̌̃̊̈̔̀̚͝Ị̷̳̎̊̿̏͛̐́̚͝͠Ò̷͇̊͋̔͊̽͂͒̾͑͘̕M̵͔̌̀͒͒̽̄̂̃͆̌͐Ã̵̘̝̻͉͓̘̜̭̠̱̘̲͂̾̿͋̄̌͆Ś̴̨̢̧͈̰̫̳̩̼͔̓̄̒͊́̽͜Ḩ̶̦̣̟̲̲̰̗͕̹̑̒̓̅̂̐͋̍̿͐̂͝Ț̴͕̗̟̳̞̜͇̣̬̔ͅͅT̵̨̠̰̭̱͎̞̄̑͊͋̐̌̉̅̉̍̾̄̀͝T̷͔̓̾͐͐̅̀̔͛́͘͘͠I̴̡͙͍͙̥͓̰͕͉͎͙̻͑͗̿̔̒͛̈́͂̍͘À̷̹̼̕H̸̡̬̠̝̲̘̣̔́̄̊̒̿̔͗̒̆̚͜͠F̵̧̧̺̬͍͑́̒̊̃̅̅͂͆̌͘̚͠Ţ̵̛̱͉̜͉͇͈̻̉̎͑̓̈́͘̕͝Ẃ̴̩͓͚̘͕̪̼K̶̛̰͎̦̭͍̣̝̥͙͎̰̜̪̜͆̏̑̈̌̈͐̾̀̌̈͑͠N̶̡̳̥̣̼̬͊̌͒̆͋̄͋̌̋̿̚S̵̘̝̝̙̺̻̪̹̳̯̻̙̣̈͒̌̒̅͆B̸̨̧̛̪̙̱̩̰̣͓͍̰̌͐̒̅͂̌̈́̊̑͌̽̃̄D̷̨̛͇̹͔̗̭͖͔̙̭͒͜O̵͚̹͍̹̣̻̞̜̊͒̽̋͛̋̃͌͆̏ͅG̴̱̩̹̰̞̲̰͍͈̍̓̌͠I̴̛̙̝̳͑̿́̊̐̏̊̃̐̒͠ͅT̴̢̛͈͔̫̬͆̒͑̈̎̓́̚͜Ļ̷̲̱̥̹͇̗̣̖̮̻̿̄͐̿̌͋͛̋̂͒̕̚E̵͎̝̪͍̱̿̂N̴̼̺̆̌̿̑́̀̄̎͌̊̈́͐̀Ę̷̗̫̮̘̯̗̲̒̎̈́͛̈́̋̊̚Ą̷̛͇̯̻͉̘͎̈́͛́́̓̀͆͘͜͝͝F̷̢͓̥͉͍͚̣̻̳͔̗͂͐͛̋͜͜͝ͅR̷̢̨̛͕̳̺̭̙̤͍̪̪̦̈́̍̽̐̒̋͑͠T̴̫̈́̀̅̽̇̇̚͘͝͠Ģ̴̧̧͔̜̫͚̳̳̿̈́̈́ͅÁ̴̬͔̊̓͂̑͐̏̚O̵̠͚͎͓͔̦͉̊͠
̵̢̧̬͍̲͚̅N̵̛̟̘͈͖̲̏̿̂͝M̶̨̡̹͚̟͎̞͈̻̹̞͈̆L̵̡̨̡̨͚̬̲͓̪̥̙͊̕Ę̴̛̛͚̯̗͎͇͉̈̄͂͗̈̀́́̃͘͠͝H̶̛̞̘̼̠̲̪̻͚͉͈̲̳͌̈́̐̊̂͐͛̇̃̅̇̚͝S̵͕͉̯̖͉̤̬̮̰̱̝̖̱̖̒̈͠Ḥ̷͚͕̬͕͙͉̣̬̣̖̇̽̀͒́̑͝U̷̖̓̈́̌͋̅̐̓̈́̽̓̾̚U̵̻̓͑ͅB̸̨͙͚̫͖̼͐͛͝͝Ṟ̸̨̫̮̭̣̪̖͔̘̣͈̱͊́̓̓̄̑͝͠O̶̢̫̩͔͊̈̀̈́̆́̈͂̓̒͛͝D̴̤̞͖͋̈Ŗ̴̧̖̪̺̠̼͚̱̈́̓̒Ń̶̛̛̗̖̤̳̳̦̤͔̣̄̓̄̒̎L̴̨̡̧̳̹͔̰͔̳͒̋̊̾͂̐͒̚ͅN̷̨̨̰̙̫̞͕̖͉̐͑̔̐̂̕G̸͈͚͐͗̚Ī̴̝͒̇̽̂̋͆̾̚͠͝Ú̴̢̦͚͉̲̮͈̥̗̞̏̉̈́͛̿̆̿͛͝͝͝I̴̹͇̪̺̥̣̮̓̑̔B̵̢̡͚̹̹̖̠̐͋̆̉͛̓͜͝͝͠ͅO̸̧̢̫̥̫̹̠͈̯̦͒̆͛͂̽̃̓͜Y̶͖̲͈̜̩̩͖̐͆̀̂̕͜ͅÎ̴̹̘̘̬̮͓̀̊̈́͐͛̆̄̏̄̚E̸̲̲̪̙̭̞͍̤͓̎N̶̖̖̦̪͍͇̼̺̤̂̚̕͜ͅĢ̸̮̙͎̩̞͕̠̺̯̿͐̇̏̋̑́̍̐̀̍̆͝Ô̴̞͕̱̟̦̰̘͓͓̬͙͖̄̈́̆͗͛͗͋̾̽͘G̴̨̥͉͍̱͖̐̆̏͝U̶̧̻͚̘̞͙͊̿͜M̷̡͎͇͇̙̜͓̝͋̄͛̎̽̀̎̏̑͘͘Ẹ̸͖̗͍͂́͆́̓̕Õ̶̢̦͕̗̤͉̙̞̖̳͜Ȅ̶̙G̵̢̨̛̙͔̝͖͂̈̀̒̕̕͝N̸̡̯̘̣̓̓͘͠Y̷̜̠͙͔͍͇̞͕̖̗͗̇͒́́̈̕I̶̡̨͒̍̋̊̆̅̍͗̽̈́̚͜͝E̸̡̠̗͔̱͈͈̻͔͂͆̇̽̽̾͋́̈́̎́̎̇͝ͅT̵̃͋̄̓́͋̓͜Ȩ̷̛̳͈͙͓̞̪̠͈̲̜̱̲͋̅̿̄͘̚W̷̛̥̪̆́̇̑͘Ǔ̶̮͂͌̎̃͐͂̎̚Ř̶͍̜̼̩͐͂̓A̴̛̖̯̝͆͂̆̉̊̀̈́̀͛͘L̴̨̹͓̝̼̻͕̔̀̓͆̊͗̄̔̍̕I̷̛̯͙̲̞͖̽̇̈̐ͅT̸̨̢͙͚̼̲͍̖̬͚̈͜͝E̷̡̧͕̼̜͍̪̒̋̌̅͝S̸̳̉̏̉́̄͠͝I̸͖̮͙̪̒̈́̂̕̚̕͠Ņ̵͓̘̪̗̰͔͍̖͉̩͓̈́̔̆́̅̓͐̔̓̊͐̓T̸̟̖̞̰̤̦͓̅̋̈́͝ͅÍ̶̜͎̘̱̘̟̝̖̥Ń̸̨̤͓̠̭̽̂O̸̢͕͊̂̑̀̿̄̄̚͝J̴̛̩̽̊̈́͌̽͂̋̃͆͝Ư̴̡̢̨͚̦̩̯̜͇͓̮̺̲̻̌̈́̆͗̃͗́́́̌͘͠͠È̴͔̊̌̃̎͝Í̶̲̬̑̆͗̓̓̐́̉͝N̷̡̧̧̡̘͔̥͔̥̬͙̞̻̳̈́͋͊͋̒̐̿̀̾̚Y̶̺̰̜̩̲̼̝̪̥̿̂̎̎̐̓̏̐͘͜I̵̢̨̛̥͇͙̖͊̍̎̋̓̄̏̿̅̀̚͠Ǫ̵̳̙̜͖̭͛͋̑̀̒̾̾̑̚͝͝Ȯ̷͎͊̔̅̇̈́̓͊̽̽͘͘͠Ş̵͕͔̜͈̺̗̝̝̓̆͆͜͝ͅȊ̵̢͖̹̦̏̍̾͑́̀͊̍̅̾̐͝͝Ủ̵̟̳͉͆̾̔̈ͅY̵̡̠̫̭̹̺͙̣͚̪̌̒͋̐̏̎̅́̈̾̅̕̚G̸̝͎̺̭͆W̴̠̝͜͜͝Y̶̧͙̼̍͐͋̈́̇̓̿͊̀Í̸͓͍̪̝͉̥͒͆̋̆̄ͅW̷̪̅́̑̔͐B̶̟̝̣͉̪̬̦͂̊͠F̷̘͍͕̒̆͋̌͗̏̈Ÿ̴̛̜́́̈́̿͐̎̊̎͐̈́̽̚͠O̵̧͖͎͉̼͎̥̭͇̩̪̪̬͊̈́̾̔͛ͅĘ̸̢̛̙͉̖̫̥͖͓͕̩̤̆̅̉͊̐̈̈́̇͌̇̓̕͝ͅT̵͍̻̯͇̄̃̈̎͂̔͝E̸̢͍̠͖̥̘̍͊͒̃̒͐̅͆́͑H̸̤̯͓̯̪̜̩̮̔̈́͛͗́̎̑̚̚̚Ơ̴͕̭̭̻̼̜̥͔̼͒̓͋͑͒͊̌̔͜͝
̴̧̟͉̼͇̗͙̣͚̟̞̩͌̓̿͛̊͐͑̏̒͜͜͝Ë̴̬̮̬̼̲͍̪̞̱́R̵̨͚̗̥͇̳̮͔͍͇̰̃̑̂͗͐̽̐̊́̄͛̆̔̆I̷͓̻̓̐̋͌͌́̋͛̃̓̚͘Ó̵͙̮̤͚̞͓̟͓̻͎̀̽̈́͘Ḙ̴̻͙̼͔͌̔̍̍͌̅ͅF̴̛̖͕̝̙̩͖̱͙̲̒̾͗̆̂̈́̓̊̀͂̚̚͘͜Ṯ̵̨̝̭̫͙̼̠̰̞̳̣̀̈́Ḋ̶̨̳̠̮̤̻̯̖͚̜̝̟̏̀͌́͊̍̕Ņ̶̞̲̖̩͒̀̎̾͛̓͌͜͝Ì̴̠̱͙͔̭̟̯͉̻̱͔̖͌̅Ṭ̸̥̣̯͝Ḇ̶̧̛̖̗͍̦̜̌̔͑̋͆̏̉̿̈́̕̚͠M̷̧̧̠̭͓̤̫̼̯͕̻̣̌̃͛̿̈͐̓͋̐̃̍͂͜R̸̨̭̙̹͓̹̬̍̌̅̒̎̚S̷̨̲̮͕̝̞͉̫̙̲̹̎͋Ȇ̵͔̳̫͖̼̞̼̽̔̓̄̅̏̎͂̂̾̕͝͝Ȕ̷͇̘̞̖͍͓̔̓̈̓̈͠͝N̴͓͕͍͕͕͎̹̘͎̦͛̆̉̽̈́Ĝ̴̣̻̭̗̞͖̻̲̮͖͂̆̉̄̏͂̓̚͝S̶̡͉͓͇͈̦̹̝͕͕̩͂̌͝͠ͅI̷͙̹̒̽̉̂͌̃̆̍E̴̠̣̺͎̲̺̓̔̔͘ͅO̷̢̠̱͍̮͍͖̠̮̭̜͕̬̔̓͂͗̇ͅÅ̵̡̧̧̙͚̲͍̙̘̹̑ͅĘ̵̡̯̥̭̦͈̻̒̍̋̒̚O̷͇͗͒̌̓̓͐̔̿͑͗͌̏̿Ī̶̻̬̤̦͎̻̺̞̀̏͜͝È̷̮̥͙̀̃͑̅̔̎͗͝ͅĪ̸͉͚̝̼̖͍̤̺Ī̵̡̖͉̱̳̘̥̬̩̮́̄̊͜T̵̢̢̺̠̺̠̠̩̗͙̒̈́͒B̴̢̡̢͚̳͈̦͈̰́̆̚͜͜ͅͅN̴̯̙͛̆̉̒̂̇͗̍̎̏͆L̸̡̛͕̪̟̞͚͛͐N̵̮̖̠̮̳͓̹̐̔̆̾̀̐̃̂͒̾́̀͜A̴͔̰̘͑̄̋̃̈́͗͌͠͝Ì̶̛̟̥̻͖̣̰̗̟͈͕͌̕͠͠͝T̴̲̑̎I̴̯̞̹̺̰̓͛̄̓̆̏͐́̆͘Ŗ̸̹̮̜̬̓̑̈́̅͗̈̀͘͠H̵͚̬̤̻͈̓̅̔̔͑̑̆͠͠Ḑ̸̨̭̗͔͉͑̌̉̏̀̌̅Y̵̧͚͎̲̩̝͙̹̑͂̀͋̈́̀̿̔̽͗͘͠͠ͅI̴̖͉̘͛̆̀̚L̸̛̫̞̫̦̱͕̞͙͚̀̑͋̏͑̾̀̌́̕̕̚Ń̷̢̤̗̓̽͋͂̃̏M̷̢̛̗̞̔̉̏̎́͠T̶̨̞̬͕̙̩̲͚̔̓W̸̧͎̻̣͖̺̖̜̲̝͇̬͖͊̾̆͛̆͜͝M̶̛̛̹̂͐̊̓̐͛͐̿̕͘B̴̧̢͔̣̹͎͓͊́G̵̝̫̟͓͉̯̿͋͛̈́̎̊̀̀̍͋͐̄T̵͖͐͐̓̍͛̂T̶̫͍͇͓̦̽̾̀̔N̷̨̯̼̭͔̩͇͖̖̣̤͕̓͒̇̆̽̍͘͜Ģ̷̨͇͙͖̼͉͎͙̣͖̈́͗́̀̇̓̓͐͜͝N̵̡̨̲̗̦͇̲̟͍̅̿̔͌̉̓͋̈́̅͑͝͠G̸̗̙̹̭̺͕̙͕̱̻̝̭̻̅́̈̍͆́̄̒̄̕̕E̴̛̜̲̮͍̫̲̣͕̿̃̅̓̆̑͊̏̚͘O̶̢̨̫̘̬͍̩̬̰̟̮̟̯̓̔I̵̤͖͖̯̖̭̹̭̊͐̎̾͐̕͠E̴̛̦̞͆͆̊̈̎͋̏̈́͘͘͠Ǵ̵̢̨̼̫̟̱͔͎͎̂̏̊͜ͅͅH̸̨͖͓͎͓̝̳̪̻͈͈̥̄͑̃̏̉̍͊̅̓̈́̑̅̈͘Ợ̴̖̝͔̝̃͆̈͊̋̉̃̀͝G̵̹̯̹̹̖̥̖̙̊̄̔͌̋F̸̛̥̪͇̙͙̗͗̋̈́̈̇͌͒̋̚T̶̡̛͕̘̥̣̱̼͛̀̏̋̋͊̽͘͠͠Ǒ̶̧̧͓̩̟̼̦͔̯͉̲̙̬͍̉̏̃͛͒̓̉͘͝͝O̵̱͒̈́̈́̐͒̏S̷̪̞̗͍̜̱̜͙̻̘̒̈́̊̾͗͌̔̚N̶̼̰̳̮̠͋̉̀̓͗͒̕͝͝ͅŐ̵͍͚̳̀́̎̌́͐̆̇͝Ĕ̸̛̬̗͉̥̞͚̍͊́̌̂͛͑̚̚͝R̵̳̺̦̝̗̻͓̆̎̒͐̌̊O̸̘̭͔̙̱̦̗͒̌́̀̅̽͐̚N̴̟̂̈́̏̍̔́̇͐̒̚Ṵ̶̺̹̑̓̏̌̏̓̎͝O̸̪̣͎͍̜͓̳̥̟̣̞͛̈́Ì̶̼̯̼͈͈͒̌͑̇̅̓͌̒̚Ṟ̵̝̳̖̬͎̘̫͇̦̠͛̓̍͊́̉̈́̓̊͝Ḍ̴̢̠̹͎̳͎̭̳͔̝̍̇̅̐͗̾̑͛̃̎͋͝͝͠E̶̯̹̅̋̑̍̾̔́̾̿̈̄̕É̷̡̨̛̤̦̞̜̗͍̗̬̩͕̘̳̿͝Ĩ̶̡̬̜̗̹̲̥̯̞̮̃̆̈̈́ͅͅͅĒ̴͈͍͚̣̦͂̅͗͂͗̆̈́̈́̊͘͝O̴̡͖̦͈̯̘̻͉̲̰̺͈̊̒̓̽͛̂͊̄̇̅͂̓̋̚Ḭ̷̜̩̃̅̑͋̌͛̑̒͛͐Y̶̧̢̨̢̢͙̳͚͎̻̠͛͜I̴̢͉̪͔̯̹̝̲̩̠̐̓̊̏͗̆͛͜͠B̶̢͓̟̟̮̖̩̙̪̞̦̣͍̽͛̐̚͠Ę̶̢̲̹̤̥̬̰̰̭͈̻̈́E̷̡͕͉̦̤̲̅͋́̌̾͜I̷̪̘͚̰͓̾̌̌̚Ḑ̵̛̠̇̎̍̓̽͆̂̆̓̕̚͘I̶̝̖͍͗̇̀́͂̕͠W̸̢̩̼̗̱̲̅͐͜
I̸̡̟̥͈̬̒̈́̃̾̇̇̾͆́̚̕ͅH̶̯̫̗̦͋̀͜Ọ̷͙͚̮̞̞͇͚̭͑͑̔́̏̉͒͗̋̒̿̾̓O̸͓͚͌̽̑́͊̃͐̏͠͠Ṳ̸̢̜̘̼̟͚͚͚̂̀̒͜͜J̷̨͕̪̖̬̦̯̹̲̀̓̈̅͌͐Í̸̘̋͝Ņ̶̗͔͙̳̍͂͑̽̽̊̓̍́̋̏͂͘͝O̴͕͕̔̚ͅY̸̢̛̱̫͖̝͈̣̫̳̳̞̱̥̝͒̓̋̒͊̽͝Y̴̦̜̦̹̣̼̍̎̒T̵͎͗̾̓͒͐͗̎̎͛̚͘Ĝ̸̭̼͗͛̂̇͜H̵̨͙͓̟̪̪̎͆̓̈̓͗̾͗̽͛͘ͅȨ̶̡̮̤͖͇̩̰̠̅̄̿͒͋̈̄G̴̟̽̎͘E̵̘͙̺͈͐̍U̴͇̫̼̓M̸̬̲͎̩̘̜̩̪͓̹͇͚̳̟̍̑̽͘F̸̢̢͓̫͎̫̲̆̇̈͑̉̈͋̃͌̆̚͜͝Å̴̡͉̺̺̙̞̒͂͋̿̓̈̑͐͠F̶̻̻̘͙͇̮͉̞̈́̑̀̅͌̋͘Ḭ̸̳̗̱̥̞̗̠̽̔̏͂͊̓̏̆̂̄̚Ư̷̛͔̲͈͙͇͎̩͉̓̌̏̓̎̊̐̌̀͘͜͜M̸͉̙̤̝̩̩͑͊̋͊̆ͅN̵̠͚̻̩͔̺͂͆̒G̶̰̻͚͙͙͓̠̰̒̅̅̀͌͜U̵̻̹̰̔̔ͅW̸̗̩͖̮̥͔̯̒́K̶͉̦̠͒̏̔T̵̢̨̫͙͕̩̟͚̫͖͚̹̓̓̾̈́̑̃̊̅͌̕͝ͅͅT̷̨͔̞̙̘̝̭̪͈͔͆Ą̶͙̹̹̤͍̘̱̱̮̖̜̋̆̎̎͒̓̏̌̚Ÿ̷̘̮͕̰̫͈̈́́̃̾̿̿͗͂̚ͅB̷̘̟̆̓͒̊N̷͉̬͍̦͚͉͕͉̚L̷̡̑̂͐̀̐̈́͠T̷͍̗̄̌͒́̌̏̇̊̇̈́͘͝͝Y̷͉̾͛̌͌̓̊͂S̴̖͖̍͋̿̌͒̐̆͝͝L̸̢̳͚̦͍̳̫̤̺̣̋̂̿̏̃̑̏͑̀̊̑̾͘͜ͅF̷̺̼̃͗̀̀̄͗̑̕͠͠N̷̡͇̹̟̩͓̼̦̣͔̣̪̔́̔̐̈́͠T̵̞͍̫̯̱̲̆́̿̄̚ͅU̶̱̞̟͕̠͔̖̖̙͎͋̈̌̈́̍Ą̵̤͚̲̘͋̊͠U̶̞̭̻͚̜͒E̸̻̎͒̋̚͝͝D̴̡̨̧̢̹̳̭͔̣̤̟̼̱̍͊̀̚Ş̵̧̰̮̠̮̲̲̩͎̟̼̆͗̏̇͌̐̈́͑̍̍̕̕Ḋ̷̢̢̰̘̼̱͓̗̭̜͛̍̍̀̚͝Ṷ̷̭͍̆̿̀͌͌̍̽͘̕͝͝Ë̶̻̫̞̟͙̪̳́̐͠͠G̷̹̞̪̮̙͎̘̍͌͊̆̇̇̋͌̉͠T̶̥͈̣͇͔̊̒́͗̅͑̌̿́͋͗̚͘N̶̨̛̲̫̭̣̞͖͎̟̹̦̟͗̇̈́̍̅̇̈́̾Ą̸̞̩͎̭̥̦̞͕̥͎̪̫́̇̋̽̐̈́̄̀̈̚D̶̗̲̳̰̱̙̮̝̗̼̭̭̞̂̐̏̔̇̉̈̃͠G̴̖͕̥̠̓̉̇̿̓̏̌̓D̴̨̖̳̱͙̞̫̯͇̻̮̬̈̾͑͗̉̃̅͜͜Ỳ̷̺̼̳N̴͙̓͜H̴̤͊̎̎̃̿́̄̊͌̽̈́̚̕͝S̶̻̟̦̜̪̘̈̽́̓̔W̶̛͎͗̊̔̿̈́̿̄̃̾͠͠W̴̨̄̇̋̈́̽Ỏ̶̧̥̱̭̼͚͓̮̺̥͕̰͉͆̒̀̒̍̒̏Ṣ̷̰̹̠̰͕̣̓̈́͊̈́̋̅̔̾͘K̵̞͖̪̮̜̖̟̹͕̺͍̻͓̬̐̾́̎͑͛̚͝͝P̷̧͓̬͓̼̭͓̗̬̳͔͔̣͋͛̊͐̈́͗̀̒̍̚͘͠Õ̴̧̗̰̝͙̟̘̰̯̘̘̎͂͋̈͋̑̚͘ͅE̶̢̳͔̟͚̫̣͈͑̆̈́̍͗̊́͆͝ͅJ̴̡̪̦̱̻̫̥͕̻̞͔̣̪͓̇̿͂͝͠M̴̡̨̱͚̥̱͇̩̬͖̥̠̳̤̍̓̔̑͊̉̒̾͌̓B̴̬͇̻͛͗̎̀͌́̈́N̵̛̈̔̈́͒͛̀̿͛ͅN̴̢̪̲̫̙͉͚̠͓̥̏͋͝I̷̺͚̜͎͑͌̒̇̓͝ͅT̵̡̼̳͈̗̟̯̈́̆͂̇̓̍͆͒N̴̢͉̯̼̗̺͔̔̉̏͑̈́̈̔̀̚S̴̹̯̹̣̼̭̫̥̳͓̪̝̎̌Ȳ̴̛̛̥̲͔̮̼̜͕̓͊͒̆͊͝R̸̢̨̧̝͇̻̟̝̪̙̔̀̈́͗̅̔̀́̌̽̚̚Ī̴̛̬͉̫̫̺̽̆͑͜͠E̸̞̗̺̹̟̜͖̩̽̍̂B̵̪̳̬̈́̂͛͆̚͠Ŏ̶̧̳̲͜ͅĄ̶̨̗̑̐̀͌̈́͊͒̊̄͗͘͝O̷̠͇̬̜͂̇́͒̓̑͗̅͋̕͠ͅS̶͇̦̠̝̖̉̀̂̈̅̄Ȯ̸̧̞̘̮̘̯̔̀̊̂̄̈́̚ͅ
U̶͇̓̄̈́̅́̒̓̓̊̇͋̉̔Ì̴̢̧̛̛̖͍̝̥̖̗̦̰̮̯̾̈́̾͊̋̈́͜I̸̡̥̮͉̤̻͍̒̑̍̄̓̐̑̔͌̀ͅḮ̸̢͕̳̺̙̤̩͈̗̟̽̎͂̄E̶̡̧̫̦̻͙̫͙͍̱̪͂̋̈́͌̽͑̿̚ͅỜ̵͚͓̭̗̪̀̐̒͜Á̴̛̦̀̒̓̊͌̈́̕̚͠M̷͈̹͈̬͓̞̱͇̏̒̕ͅE̴̖͖̫̤̭͆̌̃̈́̍̏͂̉͝͝͠͝Ṃ̴̡̪̖̦̈́̾̈́̅́͝Ö̷̟͈͈̮̗̳̭̗̫̮̯́͐̏͊̂̉̃̕D̸̡͚̱̙̩̟͖̮̟͂͋͗͂͋͊̀̕ͅW̴̢̱̠̼̺͕̺̳̏̈́͋̏̎̒̏Ẅ̵͈̥͙͕̤͓̬͖̊̓͆̂̎R̸͚̔̆͘Ÿ̴̡͔͙̖̬̦̼̅̅̍͂̄͐͠Ţ̸̨͉̻̞̱͆͆̀̀̕̕͠Ų̴̲̗̪͙̯̌͗͋͑̒̓͌́͛̈̃K̶̡̙̮͎̼̲̘͍͉̜̼̣̹͂̀͊̽̌̐̒̈̚͝Ḡ̸̨̱̱̪̩̖͔̞̩̫͔̝̰̎B̴̛̳͔̹͍̺̟̪̟̈́̐̃̿̄̀́̃͗͑͂̚Ü̴̥̙͎̉̒̍̑̂̓̿T̵̖͒̉̋̅̔͆Ỳ̸̢̨̰̣̲̯̪͎̩̲̓̑̍̏̐̈́̓͘͝T̷͈̻̫̩͕̮̦͕̪͒̅͘͜Ë̶̬̼̘̪̺́́I̷̼͕̘̞̩̜̠͐̊̅̓̽́̉̆̃̈͊͘͜͠O̶͎̗̥̩̖̗̩͎͂̀Ḥ̶͓̳̰̮̤͎̤̦̥́̈́́͜͜ͅǪ̸̘̦͚͉̰̗͔̰̤͓̲͉̗̾N̷̡̡̘͎̬͓̲͙̬̜̄̐̓̈́̈́̉F̶̡͈̞͈̗̮̩̱͖̆͗̈́̂̊̌̔̅̄̄͆̄͒̕F̷̬̆̔͒̓͘͝L̸̜̤̰̖͕̀̒͆Ļ̷̤̜̙̂́͊P̷̛̛̪̆͐̎͗͛́̍̃̎͘̚͝O̴̢̧͔͈̝̬̦͓̰̜͍͙̓̑̀̀̀̾̿͒̊̌̚͘G̷̨͙̹̗͈͓̲̣͍͖̹̖̙̏̽̍͛͊̈́̒̃̃͛̔̉͘͝T̴̙̠̬̬̦́̀͜Ṟ̵̥̪̘͓̞̦̘͇̱͆̅̎̐̉̑͋̓͘N̵̮̩̯̤͛͑̐̓̓͗T̶̫̮̮̥̪̱̠͕̄͆͊̉̾Ȩ̶̰͔̳̞̣̹̟́̀͐̑͋͋̿̔́̌̎̕̕H̶̰̟̤̱͙͚̫͕̞̤̐̐͊͝ͅͅͅG̸̢̡̙͈͕̪̖̉̈̀̌͌͗̂̓͝Ŗ̶̬̰̦̪̥̝̝̩͔͖̙̓͛̎͊̂͋̽́̀͋͝Ů̵̢̃́͗̈́̅̎̋̕Ġ̷̢̤̣͕͍̙̮̝̬͖̘̝̒͐̈́̓̕͜͝Ų̶̣͔͈͂͛̈̅͛̓̉̓̔̊̉͘B̵͉̤͍̯͙̖͇̻̔̒͜ͅD̴̡̧̠͉̜͙̥͇͍̱̼͍͊̃̓͂̓̄̄̊͂̈́͜͝H̴̞̼͔̜̟̜̘͑Ȋ̴͖̈́̔̀͛͆̀̀͊̐͘Ş̴͔͚̗̙̤̱̱̺̖̥̀̃̎͌̽̒͂̈́̿͘͘͜͜G̸̟̦̻̬̪̤̫͍̼̔̾̑͂̄͊̂͋̑̍͘K̸̡̹̲̜̪̇́́̀̐̈͒̃̿̌̇͘͝O̸̦̹͉̪̙̹͔̙̮͋͗̾͒́͐́ͅͅB̸̪̜̰͓̥̜͕̞̪̥̀̒̒̆̉̈̑̊̊̚͝Ḛ̶̡̖͎̲̹̣͉͔̒̿̃̑̽ͅÌ̵͍̹̩̲̳̹̱͙̺̯͌̾̐̓̇̈͐͒̉̀̾̕͝O̶̢̧̞͙͖̟̭̥͈̅̉͐̄̔̈̆̆̎͑͝T̷̺͎̗̄̍̽͠I̷͓̝̦͇͙̩̼͌̑̔͌̽F̵͕̰̹͇̘̊̉͛̄̌̿̀̑͗̐̉̕Y̶̡̬̘͇̬̬̘͉̎̏́͗̏͋̂́̌̇͛̀̇͝Ȩ̵̢̱̑̐̈́̓͋̿̃̽͗̓́̋̃U̷͓͇̪͙̤̻̬̜̅̎̾͛̑̏̕͠͝N̴̘̞̪̙̫̬̪̩̫̘̻̼̣̻̈̄͛͂̓̇̋̈́͘̕͝Ṯ̶̣̩̼̹͙̄́̆́̓͌̿̈́̈́͌͛̆̚͝ͅͅẼ̷̛̬̗̮̒̆̎̄̑̀̐̿͆̔̿̕E̵̻̋̍̿̔͆̓͆͝D̸̨͈̖̦̺̩͉̈́̐͊̎̿͘Î̸͚͈̩̭̫̯͒̈́̃́͑̎͛̋͂L̵̜̾͠Ḩ̴̨̛͉̠̮̯̳͚̮̗̦͔̭̯̍̇̈̒̓͆̋́̏̒̕Ǹ̸̨̢̤̦̲̠̫͉̳̬̼͇̺́̋͆̆̔͗̚͘I̴̛̻͕̳̙̜̦̙͎̔̂̅̊̉̌̂͌̂̄͗̚̚M̴̧͇̬̩̱̤̼͓̜̂̔̐Ą̵͎̹̪͉͈̏̓̓͂͗̅͝ͅḚ̸̼̑́͗͂G̶̛͕̩̹͇̗͚̳̦͍̖̖͌̌͌̄́̐́̕ͅĄ̷̢̭̘͔̠̹̠̪̯̩̣͇͕͗̽͗̑̍̋̌̓͑̎̐̈́͝͠S̴̳̮͓̹̠͊̍̿͠T̷̢̨̛̬͙̦̱̼̳̀̔̊̌F̴̨̡̹͙̘̜̳͗̋͂̉͂̂̿̓̂̓̚̕͜͠N̶͎̯̱͇̜̜̥̗̺̝̫͛͊́̃̒G̷̨̗̣̥̔̏̌̎̚ͅI̸̛͎̊͆͊̈̔̃͌̕͝W̷̡̨̦̫͓̭̬̯̳̬̋̇͒͆̒͋͠N̸̢̨̘̹͙͑̅̀̂̋́̊̃̚I̸͈̗̺͈̠̣̔̊̉̿̽͋̊̄̋͗̔̽R̶̨͖̼͙̗̹͚̣̙͎̦̲͓̉̉͊͂͘͜O̵̢̹͖̫͎̱̹͕̫̱͔̚Ḛ̷̡͉̩̦̬͖͓̘͗̄͑̀̃̈́͛
W̸̛̭͖̎͆̽̽͊͆̆̒̒͊̊O̵̬̼̙̪̙͉̲͈̺͆̉̀͛̇̈́̽͘͝D̴͓̟̰̦͖̤̦̝̱̋̍́̅̀̇̔͌͒͘͜͝ͅF̵͇͇̀͂́̿́͆̐̃̕U̴̘̫̰̤̻̻̰̜̠̱̻̿E̷͓̻̹̱̿̐̐̍T̸͈̘͈́̀̆̉̂̽͗̅̈̎̄͘͝I̴̢̮̖͖̤̲͈̪̽̿̌̀̆͑͘͝ͅD̴̨̫̗͖̠̼͖͈̪̲͚͍̻̂̿̋̈́̊̀̇͠ͅG̵̛͙̺̠̫̤͙̯̦̍̾͋H̸̨̟̰̼̙͍̓̎̋͊̿̋͝M̸̢͈̱̫̙͍͕̩͖͑̂͆̍̅̉̾͌̊͗͘͜ͅI̴̳͈̰̝̜̗̰̚̚͝Ę̷͍͕͎̬̞̤͙̹̜̓͐̆̃͋͝Ń̷̢̜̮͖̝̠̻̥͕̪̟͙̿̽́N̸̨͎͕̱͖͙͖͎̂̔́̇́̔͂̅͝Ÿ̸̛̙̭̻̫̹̖̬̖̻̱͎̮̺̩́̈̄̊̑̓̈́̐̕Ẇ̶̗͉͓͓̄͋͛̀͊̒͌̈́̃̋̐͘͝U̶̧̪̻̬̟͓̯̣̩͔̿̉̆̄̈́̈́̃͑U̵̡̧̖̫͔͍͙̟͊͂͋̒̐͗͐̓̑̓̒̾͘͝I̷̢̧̩̥̺̯͙̪̪̝͑̓̊͋͘͜Y̶̪̱̻̰̮̙̜͈̙͙̖̲͌̋̽̀̍͊̊̚N̵̨̧̨͕͖͎̯͇̦͉̦̣͌͌́̆̓̚Ö̴̪͎̣̘̳́̃̽̔̑̉̍͠O̴̩̙̗͔̅̌͆ͅS̸͎̱̳̳͕̻̞̳͘E̷̙̅̄̃̈̀̈́̋͋͌́͝Y̶͉̦̪͎̺͔̙͖͊͜O̶̩̤͇̔͆̒͆͗̒̋̚̕͜͝͝T̸̛̟̞̥͕̥̈́̀̏̽̿͂͗̓͝͝͠L̷̛͈̗͈̀̈́̈́̒́͒̂́͝͝͝E̷̢̡̛̖̩̝͈̼͎̯͎̓́̉̋͒͛̓̍͑͘̕̕͠T̷̻͚̳̃̒̒̌D̶̘̘̓̎͐̆͆̓̆̈̀́̂̔͠͠Ṅ̶̡̛̛̖̦̩͇̙͍̠̹̮̥̟̊͌̐̍̀̉̔̐́͘̕͜N̶̢̺̪͈̼̬̘͇̈́̔̅́̽̿̀̈̌͒͂̈́͜͠D̵̦̲̹̖̳̹̪̬̣̪̫̺̃͜͠͝E̵̡̱̥̺͎̭̖͍̙̳̎ͅṊ̶̛̈́̈͌̌͂̌̔̈͐͐Ş̶͚̰̩̱͍͖̼̲̗̠̪̓̏É̷̢̨̲̭̱̤̻̪̝̼͌̾̈́͆͑̉̉̆̄̿͐͘͝A̵̡͝S̶̺̤͖̤̻̞̞͕̙̖̦͈̾̾̐̀̅͋̅̊́͜G̶̨̡͍̣̪͇͙̥̝͕̽̉̀͗͛̀́̉̒̓̾̚͘͝Ģ̸͍͔̮͔̜͕̫͖̼͕̲͊̂̔̊̈̓͝Ţ̴̙͙̜͓͎͕̯͍͍̘͎͎̦͛͂̇̋̾͒͂̊̓͝͝D̴̛͕̥͙̜̀͊̌̃̇̈̒͑̆̑͜G̵̢̘̪̻̹̱̖͍̗̺͛͛͜T̶̡̼̣̻̝̿̓͌̈́̃̾́͘Ì̸̛̬͎͚̠̞͇̦͙̥̕͜ͅI̵̢̧͚͎̯͈̼̥͇͈͌̈̀̅̊͂̂̿̄̏͆͠͠ͅͅĄ̸̲̗̲͇̘̲͚̺̮͐̈̆͒̐͛͠Ĩ̵̡͈̘̾͛̀̐̈́̓̊͐̈́̕Ơ̸̟͍͕̠̽͂̇̾͂̅̈́̆͌͌̈́̍E̵̢̨̥̱͎̱̥̻͔̤̔͗̊͑̊̊̽̉͂̈́̐̏͜͝ͅĚ̸̡̛̤̳̞̜̟̲̹̱̏̎͌̎́͂̉̅͠O̶̱͔̝̞̞̖̠̗̠̼̓̆̿G̴̦̯͙̝͔̹͍̃͑̐̾̏̈́̃͂̈́͐͘̚͝Ï̷̻̿̏̓̓̐̀̎̌̚Ñ̷̡̤̝̜̙̪͚̮̦͕͈͙̣̯̒͌̏͗̽̑̀͠T̵̗̺̠̣̦͈̎͊͋̒͗͒̑̈́̚͠ͅͅS̶̢͇̪͉̬̹̬̈́̀͒̈́͘̕͠͝Ṫ̸̢̝͉̟̬͙̮͋͂͆̐͒͒̈̈́́̓̚͝͝ͅÀ̴͓͍̝̭̜̎͑̇̿̌Í̸̢̗̯̮͚̟̝͈̹̘̩̩Ǐ̶͔͍̠̝̖͖̲̯̺̐́͂̐̈́̿̀̊̅͆͑̾͌͜͜N̵̛̗̯̦͇̭͍̻̭͈͆͆͊̓͐I̷̧̺̝͈͙̭̜̻̥̱̹̯̰̿͗̾̃̏͑̈́̀̉̅̚ͅḤ̴͛̄̔̇͑̃͋̎͆͜͠͠ͅͅÒ̵̞̜̯̩̤̮͎̫͍̭̻̟̠͇̿̈̈́͐̀̊̀͝O̸̺̎͂̅̾̀̿͂̀͒͘T̷̘͇͖̤̤̘̋̊̀́̔̀́͒̐̔͘͘F̷̢͚͚̫̞͈̻̥̻̙̜̬̭̒̄̇̆́ͅĒ̸̦̥̞̯͙̥̤͋̾͗͂͂̾F̷͍̈́̉Ä̷̧̖͔͍̀͛͑̍̃̿͒̅̎͘͜M̷͍̝̠͆͛͗̅̄̍̎̈́̓͠Ļ̷̬̘͕̺͔̦̠̥̽́̿́̉̊͜U̸̱͚̞̹̤̻̘̓̑̃͛̒̍̍͐̅͝͝ͅḮ̶̹͕͎͚͉͉̘̑͌̐́Ò̶̢͎̜̳͍͉̤͉͔͚̅̑̃̇̋ͅY̵̨̨̮̟͓͈̦̬͈̍̃̈́̍̓̋̒̀̐̀̀̚͠Ņ̸̞͙̏̾͛͆̈K̶͇͍̫͎̉̉͊͌̒̔̐́͠T̶̢̼̭̖̓̆̈͜͝Ó̴̬̲̘̫͈̫̻̤͋̉͜Ņ̶̧͓̣̱̮̹͉̘̮͉͚͚̔̽͌E̶̩̮͚͇̠͈͎̤͕̫̤͚̬̎̇̽̃̌̀E̵̠͔̬̣̣̝̱̦̩̥͑̅É̴͍̗͆̽̅̈́̇͝Ḥ̷̡̢̛̝̹͕̝̻͔͚̍͂̊̓̎̃̑̊̒͜T̸̡̡̟͕͍̼͎̰̜̠̗̩̃́̀̚͜W̷̧̤̟̜̙̙̮̟̻̱̻̳̋R̷͖͍̗͓̳̣͙̤̀̋͒̅̓͜͝E̵̤͋͂͛̊͆́̆͗̔
Ų̷̛̫̞̲̠͍̈́̌̄̇̽͆͒͋̄͆̂͠Ì̸̛̲̭͎̘̠̝͈̻̥͒̐̓̈́̉̅͛͒͝Ų̴͚̺͕̗̣̭̀̊̈́̋͗̈̃͝͝Y̵̲̠̼̗͇̞̮̟̓̋̇̓̊̒̈́͂͜T̷̰̣̺̮͙͖͕̀́̈́͒̀͛̐̿̐̀̓̚̕͜͝Ȇ̴̥͕̪̰͎̩͕̘̼̽̂̽̓̇̋̐͌̆͝͠Ò̴̰̹͚̼̞̣͊͐̿̎͛̈́͠N̴̼̫͙̳̟̯̼̼̹͚̮͈̰̥͂̿̒̏͋̏̎͌͋̽̚̚̚S̶̰̗̔͜K̶̡͕̼̳̮͓͇̙̘̠̩͑̇́̈́̏͊͐͜͝ͅǦ̷̡̧͕̗̱̝̗̼̤̪̹͓̅̍Ḭ̵͙͒J̶̨̡̢̧̤̼̮̹͖̻̬̀͌̂́̕͜O̴̟̒̄͝N̵̤͖̖̰̲̄̅S̶͉͈̺̟̹̩̀̇͂̎́͘ͅͅN̵̝̞̦̥̈́̎͆ͅǪ̶̗̬͉̣͍̤̗̪̻͓̞̍͝E̷͕̊̽͌Ḩ̷̝̳̝̪̩̰̥̜̥͔̂̾͂Ũ̸̠̼̣̯͇̙̓̽̄̄̂͘̚͝͝M̶̮͋͌͒̋̄̈́̏̀̕Ṉ̷̡̲̥̱͔̺͙͚̩͂́͠E̶̛͔̍̑̄͗H̶͈̘̻̅̽͌͋̿͘M̸̭̌̑̑̂̚̕͘͝Å̶͔͕̱̙̼̘͔̙̖͇̎B̸͕͇̖̲͇̰͂̑͘Ȩ̷̛̰̘̘̘́͆̽́̋̌̔͝Y̵̮̣̔̔̈̂̂̑L̴̨̡̝̺̻̠͎̳̳̓͝A̸̢̪̘͔͓͕̯̻̞̝̍̍͋́̅̾̈́̽͊͜͝D̶̡̧̺̳͖̻̤̺̈̇͋̂͠Ŗ̷̬̻̦̫̲͎̮̩͇͎́̄͆̈́͊̔̓̈͛̊͝Ṉ̴̜̜̥͒͌̀̏P̴̜̼͐Ŵ̴̞̼͉̼̫͕͉̜̦̥̂͑̈̓͌̄͒̿̿̑͘͠Ţ̷͔̤͔̫̜͕͖͇̳͈͐̐̆̉̎̈̑̑̾͊̉̓͜͝S̴̤̫̭͕̬̹͇̃̆̑̿̏͝ͅḬ̷̠̻̫̗̝͙͚̱̘͂̈́D̷̛̩̱̪̩̽̆̉͑̆͗̋͠Y̴̢͇̼̯̻̪̝̮̤͔͙͆̿͒̀̊͑͋͌͒͝ͅO̵͔̅̿̅D̸̡̛͍̯̲̣͉̘̪͕͇̻̖̩́̂͜Ḡ̴̹̱̘̮͖̱̙͍̰͆̈͛̈́̈́͑̇̈͌̓̂̓̅D̴̡̘͉̰̔̐̇͑̄̑̏̏̿̿̐͠E̸͇̹̺͉͇̤͊̐̽D̸̨̳̪̗̲̫͚̳̺̫͎̤̽̅̉̈͝N̷̞̎̾̅Ȏ̸̙̥̻̞͈͍͉͉̊̆͂̅̌̇̚͜͜ͅT̶̳̖͚̥̫̳̲̘̫͆̉̒͑̈͋͑B̴͔̼̳͙̱̠̖͓͚̻͕͐̆̍͜N̸̡̠̳̣̼̬͇͇͗̒̅̽I̸̡̡͕̩̩͌E̵̛̬͍̙͕̦͋̌̀̔͑̿͘͘͜G̶̡̨̮̱̜̼̬͍̟̘͇̪̅̀͋̑͌͘̕͘͝Y̶̲̻͉̳̫̲̫͓͕͕̆͊̆͗̀̕͝͠͝F̸̝̼̐̉D̶̨̛̟͖̘̟̫̖̯̈́̃̇̽̑̈́̾̅͑̚̕T̷͇̯̫̂R̵̥̳͚͈̠͍̪͈̉̌̌͆̕̚G̷̨̢̞͎̮̮̥̫̦͚͎̹͛Y̶̢͖̣̞̯͋̾̏̀́͛̀̕͠Ö̸̧̢̜̠̞̒̍͊̕͘͜A̵̛̮̥̲̮͚̗̥̟̣A̸̧̜͎͈̪̎̀̆͐̐̔͐̑̾̈́͋̒̀̓E̷͓̾͂̒Ỏ̴̧̦̩̭̺̠͋I̵̢͕̳̩̬̟̼͌̀Ĩ̸̫̗͕̂̓̌̆͐̎̅̿̈͘͘͜͝U̷̡̡̻͔̳̼̜̇͗͒̌̀͆̌̈́̅̋̚̕ͅͅB̴̨̹̜̹̲͕͕̠̳͈̲̝̔͑̏̀͗̋̌̀̆͆̈́̚G̷͈͚͍͍͙̱̙̹̈͆̐̆̒̀̅͒̍̈́̕͜͝U̴̥͓̰̖̮͍̦̪͔͔͕̔͒̐͒ͅĢ̸̧̛͖̼̼̹̪̞͛̌̎̋̈́̍̆͜T̵̢̡͕̠͎̻͙͉̭̑̉̓͂̀̄̀̈́̔̋̏͒̕͠ͅͅY̸̠͍͔͖̫̝̯̥̤̹̲̻͐̆͒͜É̸̟͆̽̌̆̍T̴̙̭̟͍͆̃U̴̗͍͍̳̣͉̙̣̻̿͋̆̿̃̊̑̈̓͊̃͆̉͝Į̸̗̜̠͙̯̦̮́̒G̷̢̧͔̩͙̘̰̱͓̜̹̙̭͂̐̕͜͠M̸̨̛͔͈̞͕͕̖̊̂̈̒̍̌́̄͒͠Ḭ̸̧̭̾̌̀͐͌̈́͆́́̀̔͝͝͝O̸̩̔͐̓̈́͂̊̅̌R̴͖̋̾̀̓͗Ľ̶͔͕͎͊͛̎͊͋̆͠W̴̢̳̟̖̟̞͔̪̦̼̟̯̳̾̽̔͛͐͋̒͐͝H̸̪̟̥͍͚͖͍͇̜͖̀̉̊̅͆̚͝E̵̳̰̦̣̪͍͎̐̍̈́́̈́͋̀̅͑͒͒Ù̸̢̘͚̩̳̠̪̍̀͑̊͝͝ͅͅN̶̠͌́̏̐͗̿̕̕Ị̷̢̨͚͍͍͉̮̐
Ȯ̷̡̰̰͍̝̤͕̮̮͛͋̿͊̀̿̋Ń̵̡̨̥̣̗̦͙̘͍̅̀̆́̊̀̎͑̃U̵͕͕̠̙͖̠̝̩̒́͑̂̀̿̉́̏͐͋́ͅĬ̴͖̬͎̀̎͛̚͠G̶̡͈̝͇͖͙̹͂͐̐̚͠I̸͉̺̤͖̗̗͉̻͍͌͛̉̕F̴̛̻͈̥͔̟͔̊̔͒̌̋̅̀͐̓́̚T̴̛̲͍͎͉̥̊́͊̋̃͆̀̈́̕͝ͅL̶̨̗͍̽̅̋̓́̃́͂B̷̙̹̼̘̯͍͓͍͎̔̐̅̈́̔͗̕͜͝͝E̶̡̠͕̘̦̟̟̗͙͎̲̅̾̃Ỏ̸̺̺͎̱̀́̔̒̕͜͜D̸͚͎̓̀̓̓͗̀͘N̷̨̢̯̞̱̯͔͌̿̈̎̃͑͑̏͐̇͛̾͝R̵̛̺̜͚̓̑̈́̄̃̂͛̈́͐͝I̶̛͈͚͆̾̾N̷͖̖̼͐͌̓̾̍̊̿̓͊͛̕Į̵̰̥͕͖̹̻͖̖͇͎̣̑̎̿̔̽͊̿̓̉̏̕̚͘͠F̶̨̭͙̗̩̟̮͉̩͒̿̎̎͐̊͛̏͂̏̉̂̚͜͜͜͝ͅͅB̷̟͓̜̖̲͈̰̳̣̗̟̈́͛́̀̌̎̃̆͊͑E̴̞̦̤̯͍̓̅́͜͝I̸̧̜͈̝͚̓̈͛͌́̅̋̏͊͘͘W̶̢̨̦̲̫̤̺̱̘̆̅̎͑͒̅̾̃̔̓̒͘G̷̡̠̩͖͖̩̱̟͉̱̯̰̋̅͗̃͆̾̏̓͗̚͜Ǧ̸̙̟͓́͂̀͗̑̀̆͛̑̉̈́͒͠Ṱ̵̰̜͍͇̆S̴̨̨̢̧͚̲̜̟͛͐́̈́̂̚W̸̛̫̜̫͇͎̮̼̜͉̐̍̂̊̅̀̇͗̐̿͐͘T̴̖̪̖̖̫̱̰̺̤̓̐̇̅̈͛͠Ş̸̮̝͈͇̙̟̱̱̭̝͇̈́Ḿ̷̨̨̛͖̝̘̬͙̱̘͖̖̊͌̐̓͑̂̆̏͘͜D̵̘̯̜̗̠̈́̓͌S̶̹̦̫͒̀̍̾̈́̊̊̿͛̚͘Ǫ̵͕̼̖̺̪̓͜͜͜͝E̷͔̮̱̘̽Ș̵̨͖̺͙̌̋̎͆͆͆͐͘̕͝G̸̤͖͓̪͎͖̗̣̤̙͍͆̆̈́̀̍̊͂͝G̴̢̩̜̭̬̘̯͍̮̺̊́̈́̇̿̌̌͑͗͑̎̚͝F̷̢̨̖̥̯̲̭̪̜̟̘̻́͛͜͠O̶̧̳̦̻̒̔̈̀̇͑͊̿̄̌̆̋̏͝T̸͚̼͔̰̟̻̬̝̯̮̻̞́͆̏͂̈́̊̓̐Į̶̩̪̘͎̗̝̮̟͇̥͓̘͌̊̾̅̈́̌͜N̵̡̧͚̺̝̙̝̮͙̹̟̖̭͍͊͋̇͆̕N̶͇̪̞̘͗̈̂̍͋̄̌̾̈́͝R̷̫͇͖̩͍̳͇̐͋̓͒N̵̨̨̪͍̦̬̻̩̘͈̦̤̄̌̑̇̃̓̌̍͂̚͝ͅŃ̴̫̘̟̯͓͎̜̳̜̀̆͑̑͒̑͌̌N̸̡͕͇̯̭̭͎̙͈̥͇̥͈͚̍̿̃͒̂̅̔͑͠Ṋ̶̢̬͉̗͉̺͉̝̲̔̈́͊́U̴̘̓͊̆̊̎̋̒M̸̩̺̍̾͆́̋̅̓̈́̾́̓͘̚E̷͙̜̬̝̙͇̦͖̠̾̃̆̐̃̚̚͝͝Y̶͙̗̥͎̺̝͎̭͕̩͈̝̦̔́̀͂́̋͆̀̀́̄̈́̾̆ͅU̵̪̣̻̰͈͕̔̽̐̇́͌̉͜Â̶̡͍̪̳̳̼̹̙̰̤̓̓̑̈́̾͑I̴̡̢̩̖͖̻͔͖͈̟̮͉͑͆̈́̑̋́̂͠M̶̨̨̢͎̠̖̮̺͈̆̌̏̈̆̉͆̑͗͝ͅǦ̸̛̬͉̪͙͉̺͙̲͙̽͗̎ͅŸ̵̢̨͎̯͓̳͓͖͙͈̝̦̼́̇̈́̎̈̍̈̂̏N̸̜͓̯̐̅̔W̸̛̭̦̣̎̇͒̒͒̈́̓̊̎͘͘̚͜͝U̷̗̗͍̫͇͍͎̠̦͋̆̇̀̔̿Ţ̴̨̹̭̱͙͉̳̩̹̿̐̈́̽͆̚͜Ï̵̧̧͖̩̗͍̙̖͔͕͔̖͆̓͜I̴̢̥͓̲͇̺͖͈̫͔̮̩͉̜̾͒̀̐̕͝Ẹ̵̱̬̤̊̿̋͋̀͒͒̕͝Ä̸̮͍̲͚̱̪̘̲̣́̋Ọ̴̝̇͌͆̐̇́̍̚̚͠͠ͅU̷̗̻̟̗̘͗̐̂͜S̴̡̘̖̬̭͕͚̦̞͖̏Ì̴̪͓͚́́͘͠Į̷̞̼͓̝̤̳̍̈́̉̇̋̐͑̈́͗̕Ę̵̦̯͔̺̺̰̦̝̒͊̓͗̿̆̿̍͜R̴̯̠̱̩̥̭͈̍͒́͊̀͛̉̄́̿͛̆̎L̶̝͙̰̰̤̱̰̞̰̟͈͈̟̃̄̒͂̄́̚͜Y̴̠͓̱̘̗̰̳̲̬̦͗͐̍͊̕͜ͅŃ̸̢̝̘̼̹̱̪̮̠̉̈͠Ṵ̶̧͉̩̉̋̓̇̄̊͌̄̕̚A̷̭̻̮̦͕̓̄̉̽͋̊͑̐̇̌̍E̴̛͇̭̝͍̦̰͇͖̪̮̟͆̄̃̀B̵̢̢̯̼̩̦̝̟̯̠̳̗̺͛̈́Ń̶̩̐́̀́͘B̵̡̧̡̮̜̣͉͎̲̠̦̑̈́̈́̍́̊͋̕̚͝͝͝T̶̨͕̹̯̦͇̈́̏͜Ǫ̵͔͎̣̣̺̜͇̘̠́̉̇͑D̸͇̳̺̀̌N̸̲͓̋̃̇̈̇̃͗̈́̎͘P̷̛̤̓̈́̂͒̿Ģ̷̟̼̹̪͓̼̺͔̲̪̄̀͒͒̉́̓͜Ỏ̴̢̲̯̥̳̭͔̾̽̀͐̌͘͠T̷̢̨̛̙̙͉̺̳̙̯̳̘̝͜͜Ů̸̩͊̇̉̈͌̕Ḭ̷̢̨̝͔̃͛͂̓̏͊̊̅̕Ǫ̸̛̯̝̞̬͖͕̖̦̗̈́̄̑͆̾̓̈́̈̍̕͠R̸̡̡̛̛̮̣͇̟͚͍̞͔̯̯̤̹̋̄̽͂̎̔̍́̊͝
W̷̧̢̛͈̥̰̥͉̯̖͚͕̤̍̌͂̏̋̄͊̎̕͠D̶͕̥̻̝͔̑̏̌̓̈̎̀̌̀̓̈̕͝I̵̡̧͕̠̜̬̠̹̩̼̪̹̲̊͌̀̇́̊͌̓̉͌̄͘Ț̷̼̗̯̮̭͇̭̬͖͖̮̐̑̌̎̊̅͠G̴̡̞̮̗̜͌̉͂͘͝N̶̨̼̜̬̱̮͔̭̞͎̳̒́̾͆Ļ̴̧̭̥͕̘̼͇̲̟̒̀͂̓̍̽̍̒Ģ̴̲͍̯̮̘͙͙͎̉͛̽̏͒͋͝G̴̲̮̘̯͔͒͑͌̔̊̏Y̸̼̘̦͔̭̥̺͕̣͙̯͐̾̊̀̊͆̊͋̓͘͜Ḁ̶̱̺͈̪̔̋͛͑̄̋̇͊̐͂̈̉̚Y̶̡̞̪͕̲̦̏́͛́̋̕͝D̵̢̧̢͇͍̪̹̹̥͓̺͙̳͂͌͋̀̏̀̋̐̿̆̔͝Ḿ̵̧̨̗͚̜͖͆͐̍̕̕͜͠͝I̷͔̟̳̼̎͌̿̕͘Ơ̷̹̥̎̔̍͊͛͋̓̈́̃̀͘Ī̷̮̋̉̓̉͛̌W̷̧̃̈́͗̍̑Ĕ̵̡̧͔̪̖̹͓̠̝̰̔̅͆̾̔̈̊Ő̷͙̦̺̮͇̱̈́̃͑̈́̌̓̈́̌̏͝Ḍ̸̢̫̠̣̮̭͊B̵̥͔̘͓̣̘̣̳͉̝͙͕͖͇͝Ṱ̵̢̛̪͇̓͗̕̕̕͝T̸̨̧̰̳̙̳̜͓̳̑͋͆͐̌͂̋̉̈́̀̈̚͝G̶͎͙̠̺̲̞̐̆̿͛̍̀̀̇̓͛͘͜Ḭ̶̪͇̏͂͐́̏̿̾̂͠͝D̶̡̲̺̝͍͔͚͌͛̂̏̈́͝ͅĶ̷͚̪̬̪̺͇́̀̃͗̎̐͠ͅͅO̷̧̰͉̯̪̐̾̽̄̋N̶̡̨͖̱̙͓̦̝̙̟̖̱͍̑̓͊̀̀̌̆̿̑͌̉̋͝S̴̞̬̍̉̌̃̎̒̃̑͘͝͝Ų̴̲͈̳͉͚̈́̈͊̋́̎̍̋̀͋͛͠͝F̷̖̠̞̳͔̜͆̏̓̀͜Ơ̶̥͈͉̺̪͈̫͇̹͓̗̥̘̥̈̆̀̔̽͐͋̎̚͝Ǐ̷̦̭̖̜̮̝̮͉̙̇ͅI̸̢̛͇̗̙̣̯̖̣̰̪͙̠͒̓̃͐̉̊͌̿́͒̌̅R̷̛̯̋͝A̷̤̝̘̪̯̯͆̈ͅȨ̵̥̼͉̠͋́ͅǗ̸̪̯̳͚̠̒͛̀̿̊L̴͚̯̮͕͌̿̉̾́̽H̶̝͍͙̖̖̯͇́̐̇̽̕͜T̵̢̧̢̟͓̱̻̦̹̯͇͋̌̂̇̄̽̊͗͛̎̀̿̚I̸̡̨̧̱͔̰͉̦͜͝W̶̨̹̲͉͕̽́̂̈́̂̾̀̕̕͜ͅŅ̴̳̭̰̰̮̭͙̰̫̤͂͛ͅF̸̺̖̣͆̈̈́̾̂̍͠͠Ğ̵̘̖̤̣̹̝͈̩͈͋̌̓̓͒͋͒̿̃̇͘B̸̰͓͔̦̱̤̮̹̚E̸͓̠̔̓̚͝H̸̤̹͇͚̗̤͈̜̜̊J̸̡̰̱̻̌̀̈́̓̅̊͆̄̌E̴̮̜̗͎̞̬̟̗͑͋ͅỊ̵͔̰̥͇̟͕̜̺͑̄̾͂̀͐̕͝B̴̛̳̻͉̙̜͒̍̎͑͐̈̋̅ͅŅ̶̫̭̝͕̩̀̈́̅̀̓̓T̶̯͔̦̖͂͑͋̒͂͌̋̍͊̄̾Ḩ̷̙͔͔̮̱̣̺̟͎̰̘̓̏̿̈̿͒̃̀́̃͜T̷͖͕̎̾͌̈̕͠K̵̼̰̜̞̫̺̞̻̓̀͗̋͌͗̚͜͝ͅͅĘ̶̛̛̘̥͙̰́̎̒̅́̅͊͑̚E̸̖̲̚Ơ̷͚͉̟͙̮͍̑̈́̈́̎̾̒͗͑̽̕̕͠Ș̵̺͍̤̓̿̈̒͂̃̍͌̚͜͝TRSESṊ̸̛̞͗́̾̂̎͊̉̅̒́̆̚E̴̢̛͛̌͒̿̒̀͒͌͆̓̐͐͝Y̵̡͎̬̠͕͈̬̎Ḻ̸̛̛̦̤͛̀͆͗̀D̴̨̗̝̗̙͇̘͇̝͈̙̗̱̰̔G̴̺͖͔͈̖͔̠̙͍̫̬̖̺̅̽D̸̘͓̼̱̮̣̮̈̍͋̈́̀̈̓̔͆͝Ẹ̴̡̙́͋̆̆́̐̓̋̐͜H̴̢̡̳̭͖͚͖̦͕̦͕͙̼̯͓̏Ȩ̸̛̗̫̤͑̄͊͌̐̐̈̄̂̊̌̒̂ͅY̷͔͔̲̗̻͉͈̣̘͙̯̠͒͛̋̌̈̋͒̉͐O̵̢̢̞̫̦̫̫̟̯̜͇̣̮͕̺͐̾̔̊̌͛̔̾̍̃̾U̴̖̖͚͐̍̂̚I̸̧̗͔͕̞̦̟͉͚̝͎̘̰̯̿̆̍̿͐̓̅̓̀͂̂̈͆̚͝Ǫ̶͇̤̖͔̼͓̙̈́̈̉͠A̴̤̱̪̯̭͎͛́̈́̀̐͒͗̓́͋O̴̧̡̺̜̯̠̹̗̳͍̳̫̥͎͙͐́̏̔͂͋̏̎͠Ḩ̸̢̭͍̻̙̮̝̣̇̋͌W̵̜͓̦̪͎̉̍́̈̈́̑͑̚̕͠͝͝ͅͅD̶̢̨̧̮̺̯̟̪̭̪̳̬̐͆̀̅̐́̋̋͂̋͊̒͂͑̅M̸̧̘̞͚̱̠̜͓̥͌̑̓̏̓͒̎̄͗̅̔̆̕̕͠Ȅ̶̢͉̖̪̪͙͍̲̀̆͗̈́͜͜͜I̸̧̥̲̭͇̠̖̳̮͍̥̬̻̒̄F̷̰̦͎̰̆̀͂̄̉͂́͗F̷̢͍̫̪̱͎̫͔̙̥̹̪̹͈͚̍̂͛͑̕
T̶̛͇̞͔̦͔̳̠̯̹͙͈̮̱̣̜̊̎̀̽̋̈̓́̐̅T̸̨̨͙̺̭̼̙̫̱̝̑̇̋̐̽̚͜I̴͉͑̈́̅͂̇̒͛̊̂͌͐̽͝G̵̬̺̟͉̺͕̫̈́̔Ò̶̢̪̮̣̠̟͇̝̼̠̳̃̊̑̍͛̑T̴͚̞̙͉̣̥̼͔̦͗̏̾̂̕͜M̸̨͈̮̥̜͍̊O̷̤̐͛͑̑͆͗͌͂͊͆͆Ȩ̷͙̝͔̾̀̓̿͝I̵̡͉̿S̴̼̹̩͙̬̤̯̬̙̠̄̆ͅĔ̵͇̼̀̽̈͒̒̌̆̓̈̂͠O̶̯͖͖̗̜͕̠͉̩̫̦̤̣͑̃̈́͌̈́͐͋͑̋E̵̦̦̻̲̙̦̰̰̞͈̽̍̽̊̔̎̈́̈́́̍̕T̴̰̃̌́́͝S̵̨̨̤̪̻̩̟͔̝̠͈̈̌̊̋̆̿̆̍̆̚T̷̨̜̗͙̜͕͉̓̒R̸̗̍̏̓̌N̸͓̹̈́́̐̍̆̀̽͆͝͠W̷̢̲͓̜̜̤̞̞̦̗̺̮͙͉̌̅͐̅̋͑Ȏ̷̩͋͌̍́͗̓̔̀͑Ļ̴̨̧̡̩̟͇̟͎̠͕͗̈́̈́͂̕͠ͅͅL̷̥̤͎̗̬̪͂͐͗D̸̨̟̺̘̙̤̀̑̐̎͑͋Ĩ̷̟̺͐̌͌H̴̘̥̦̘͉̣̓͂̍̿̃̄̀͋͋F̸̢̢͕̪̘̘͓̫̩̩͎̬̿̾̇͆͜ͅG̴̢͓̰̹̓̅̔̀̿̋̅͝W̸̢̘̘͚̤͈̪̟̱̙̮̩̩͉̏̈́́̃́͂̉͜Ȧ̵͎͎̹͕̀̀̓͝Ģ̴̛̻̘̯̩̰̠̟̬̗̘̞͇̲̏͂͊́̇̏̊̌Ṫ̷̢̧̰̩̓͐͂̎̕Ḙ̵̓̏̇̓͐̀́̋͗̌̈̀́̕T̸̢̗̾̐̾̎̑̓̊̚Ò̸̥̠͕̄̃̌͂̀͌͐̾̄͘̚ͅS̶̡̫̟̹̝͚̜̜͎͉̹̤͎̿̂̂̍͂̊̊̄̓̿̌U̵̱͖̜̼̇͂̍͆̀̌͂̏̊͗̽͐̿Ȩ̸̣̝̙̃̒̆Į̶̢̧̛̳̰̭̳̫͕͈͉̞͚̯͐̅̽͒̍͒͛̑̊͠͝Ų̵̧̧̙̠͈̘̖͎̺͈͉̗̤̎͆̋̏̌͋̔̓͋̉̏̚̚͘ͅĢ̵͇͔̙̻͍̘̟͍̫̟̦͍͉̼̋̒͊͑̅Ę̴̫̦̫͇̘̻̟̱̼͍̔̄̀̀̄̉̚͝͝S̶̱̘̟̙̺̿͛̓̾͂̍̕͝F̴͚̐̌͌̈̀̔̍͑̓͘̚I̴̜̮̓̏͊͑͛̃̾̀͘̚ͅU̶̢̻̺͔͕͈͔͂͒̂͑̐̅͂͘I̸̢̠͙̙̲̙̺̥̙͓̖̫͙͂̀͊͋̇G̷̣̳̖͍̠͍͔͖̱̙̏Ŗ̴̩̭͚̹̰̥̓͆̇̈́̈̔͒͒̊͘ͅY̸̧͔̯͍͇̩̭̜̣̭̖̾̏̈́̕̕͜͜T̴̛͇̮̞͊͛̔̂̽̕͘Ư̶̻̣̟̻̥̖̙̮͇̜̊̀́͐͐̈́̓̿̈̚͜͝I̵̧̼͕̝̐͝R̶̡̺̠͉͓̥̣͖̤͎̺̩͑̂̾͂͐̓̄̕̕͝ͅN̷͕̖̰̼̫̟̯͇̆̍͂̀͂͋̈̂͐͘Ȩ̴̛̛̳̰̄̃̍̆̐͗͒͂̈̓͘S̸̡̢̡̛̙̺͓̰͉̲͇̗͙͑̃̆ͅË̸̡̢̢̨̢̠͔̳͍͍͉͓̯̈́̈́̽̐̿̈́̐̋̊̕̚M̶͙̺̃̚Á̵̢̼̝͔̭͎̰̹̺͍͂̀̉͋̍̄̈́̓͌Ơ̵͚̗͔̻̔͋͋̒̎J̴̧̘̙͚̭̫̼̙̘͖̬͓̻̝͛͆̑̈́̕K̸̯̊͋̀͊́͝͠B̸̡̼̜̗̣̜̆̉̐̌̅̊̇͑͒̚Ś̸̡̛̛̗̰̮̞̼͉̗̻͕͝Ǘ̵̲̙͔̜̳͙͙͕̪͆̀̌̇̈́̀̂̓̈́͝Á̶̦̦̼̰̼̽́O̴͖̻̪̅̊͌̀̏̚N̵̨̛̫̫̥̮̳͌̓͋̾̽̅́E̸̫̫̅N̸̼͆͗̒̃̿̂̈́̕Ö̶̙̪̩̳͈̣̹̳͔́̏͋̓͝T̴̡̡̥̪̬̜̖̗̮̗͓̺̳͓̏̀̄̄̆̕̕͠͝L̴̡͇͙̺̥̝̱͉̬̥̓́͆̂Ń̷̨̙̙̤̭̑̉̃̐T̶̝̳̫͔̩̲̺̺̗͖̣͈̋̿͋͌̊̒̈́̓̈́̓͂̽̽̚̚D̵͍̰̳̜̳̟̯̺̬̃͊̂̓̀͒̽̌́̂̉̓͆͘ͅN̵̡̬͙͓̼̹̰̜̼͙̙͕̜͋̈̽̓̀̊͘͝M̸̨͙̞̩͓̜̏̈̋̏̑Ý̵̧̻̼̮͈̲͖̲͔̠͛́͌̃͐̇̇̾̓̀͒̾̚̚͜S̵͙̺̉̾͌̓ͅḬ̵̩͖͉̩̉̎̈́̿̈͗͊̊̀H̷̡̰͇̞̠̪̖̯̱͍̮̘̋̄͆͊̌̕I̶͈̙͙̩̪̽T̸͎͇̦͍͋͆͊̀̒̈̀͗̄̐͑͐̚͜͠͠E̸̳̐̚̕ͅE̶̘͙͎͑̎̍͆̌͌͘Ŗ̴̨̢̜̮͖̹̮̫͙̯͎͕̘͗̃͆̆͌̿͆́͝Ő̸̧̧͕̣̞̺͓̀̇B̴̲̗͈͍̙͓̰͎̋̄͂̍̓͐̀̊̌͠ͅK̷̰̀̈́̓̒̅͌͂̚͝T̶̨̛̹͚̜̖͓̘͒̉̌̃̈́͌̀U̵̢̢͙͓͎̟̥̳̬̦͙͔̜̘͌̀̔͒̆̊͊̊́Ȋ̴̡̨̮̪͍̤̼̞̼̜̙̬͍̓̎̓̐̾̂̌̀͆͐͘̚ͅI̸̗͋̅̉̍̎̆̍́̚͘
Ŏ̷̬̜̬̩͚͇̰̼̣̊̓̆̌͜Ǫ̷̟̫̯̱̪̙̬̮̭̪̺̞͍͍̔̈̀̀͆̽͌͝͝H̶̢̡̤̯̼̹͕͐̂͊͂̏͑́̌͛̔̚Y̸̼̦̬̖͖̟̳̻̳̌̽̌̀̆̔̏̓̕͠͠ͅI̷͇͉͕̹̾̀̿͂̂͑̓̽͝Ĩ̷̩͈̞̯͍̈́̈́̇̃̚G̸̲̬͛̒́̇̄̀͘͝Ṯ̷̨̝͎̗̜̝̟̖̠̝́̆͜ͅN̷̝͉̥̻͕̗̞̘͇͔̣͕̻̑̍͐̈́͑̇̌Á̸̡̛̺̭͇̖̹̥̙̤̲̠̤͚̱̃̽̈́̾́̄͘̚ͅḘ̶̏̎̐H̵̨̢̢̛̻̫͓̬̹̱̩͈̭̐͌̂̕ͅB̸̨̨̘͍̬͈̘̣̦̙̣̦̫̊̂̈́͗̂̆́͗͌̔̅͗̔Á̴̗͎̹͉̼̰͎̟̠̎̔ͅͅY̶̟̜̽̄̅͐͗͝Ę̶̒̅̒͑̆͗́̂́͒̇̍͘̕͠F̵̢͔̺͎͈̦̗̥̙͗͋̾͂̒̆́́ͅW̷̟̝̱̤̠͇̳͔͛B̷̨͎̮̼̤͋̉̈́̔͒͂̅̏̀̈̀̚N̴̦̥̯̪̥͑̊̾̍͛̈́̃̓̈͝͝T̵̨̙̞̼͖̲͇̮͔͖͈͂͒̅̉͛̽̈Y̴̻̗̘͎̜͑B̵̺͇̒̌͆̇̆͋̊̒̈́̃̾̽͠N̸̨̜͓̣̦͎̈́́͌̈́͛͊̃͐̓̓͝G̶̨̧̦̱̥̞͖̜̲̠͎̖͋̎̈́̈́́̍̚͝N̷͓̳̮̠͖̰͉̟̲̑̅̚̚M̷̯̲̺̖̀̈͊͑̐̈͜S̴̡̢̧̡̨̯̪̯̜̻̤̜̺̲̠̽́̈̉̀̃̕͝Ḑ̷̖̹̳̌Ė̸͖̯̮̼͚̺́̔́̇̈́̃̎̊̄̈́̕̚͘͝Y̴̨̬̐̅͒̽̊͑͆̔̌̓̒̾D̶̨̩̘̩̰͕̪̯̼͙̬͔͉̑̀͊͜͝Ĭ̸͕̯̘̥̱̆̆́̕͝D̴̗̠́̊͂͐̂̀̈̍̚͝͠O̴̢̡̩̟̙̩̟͕̫͉͎̮̺̤̾O̸͖̙̽̍́̈́̔̂̚Ę̵̙̺͖̖͕̦̺̫̩̱̼͍̲̾F̷̡̬͕̹͛̀͑̎̌͋̔̾̽E̸̢̱̭̳̹͕̤͕͓̱͚̝̖̼͛͆̀̽͒̆̅ͅǪ̶̜̫̔̿̂͐́͐͊̈́̊̏̾Į̶̨͇̭̻̣̳͖̮̯̈́̈́̂̂̉̃͐̈́̓̈́̄̌̚͜͠ͅO̵͇̜̅̏́͒͊̎͘̚͝Ḏ̸̡̡̨͖͎̥̤͍̤̻͕͎̝̑̽̽̌̍̀̊͒Ì̴̤̰́̊̉̓͋͛͌̈́̔̚͠͝M̸̛̘̣̫̮͍͇̬̱̆͠M̴͓̹̩̲͍̳̺̖̗̰͚̝̬͇͈̍̓̐̅̐̽̽N̶̯̲͉̱̟̞̞̥͋͝E̸͖͕͙̯͔̲̤͚̗͛͒̉͗̔̀W̶̜͚̣̓̓͝͝͠ͅĢ̶̙͖͕͙̭̞͈̟̫̖̹͉̎̐̄̈́̿͒̓͆͝͝ͅN̷̢̛̘̮̦̱̗̤͚̫͔̠̈́͆̌̌̿̊̃̉͌̏͊͛̚͠ͅͅE̷̡̹̋̀̀I̵̢̧̛̪̝͖̘̲̺̪̣̤̺͑̃͒̋̊͋̔͊U̸̱͓͋̌́͂͐̓I̷̡̢̛͉̤̤̘̳̠̻̻̣̲̫̿̉͐̒͊̾͆̍̎̀̐̇͜͝͝ͅǪ̸̨̮͕̠̳͓͉̯̟͈̖̞͋͐́̍̈́̄͊̀̍͌͊̎̎̾͝ͅŅ̶̮̺̗͔̱̖͎̾͆̓̐̈́͛̑͂̓̈́̍̚̕N̷̢̧̳͕̪̱̙̪̖̉̌̅̀͋̀͗̐̂̌͠͝Ģ̵͕̲̭̣̣̳̠̞̱̥̬̃̏̓͆͊͜͜O̵̝͗̆̒̈́͗̐͆͒̅̌͛͝͝P̴̡̢̺̻̣͍̩͚̥͔͉̗͙̱̑͗̐̽̚͘Ȏ̷̡̢͓̟̼̘͕̥̹͉̟̯̀̈́̈́U̶̡̘̖̼̘̝̣͍̪̝͆̈́̂͌́͗̊̐̂̔͘ͅÄ̵̛͉̲́̒̋̒͊̾̐̑̉͐̒̕͝͠D̴͎̣̩̙͍̀̿W̷̡̪̮̙͉͇̲͚̗͇̽̐̐̈́͋Ṫ̵̟̥͉̳̞̠̀̓̎͐͒͜͝͠G̶͈͎̼͍̭̗̰̮͗̄̐͊͛̂̆̑̄́͝İ̵̦͉̥̖̙̖Ė̸͉́̐̓́̐́̋̃͝Y̷͕̩̝̖͉̲̰̾͐̑̈́̓̐̐̀̎̑̓̌̚̕͝Ṯ̸͇̲͇͓̠̰̂̈́̆̒̎̒̋͌̀͐̌̈́͊̚͝U̸̺̺͔̱̺̩͖̞̮̦̠̖̯̔̄̏̒̓͆́̀͒̀͠͠͝͝ͅͅH̸̟̜͇͈̪͖̥̥͚̪̣̤͈͎́͑F̸̨̼̫̫̩̹̯̻̪̆̉G̷̞̣͖͇̤͈͆̒̒̀̎İ̶̢̡͔̺͖̝̻͔̙͔̜̙̜̈́̏R̵̬͙̺̯̮̯͑̎́̏͌̈̔͌̑̋́͊̚̕͝I̵̹̣̤̹̟̬͍̱͈̼̬͖͐͋͜ͅĘ̷̟͖̙̞̫̤͓̳̊̑̅͊͛͝͝͝G̷̣̣̞̽́T̷̖͎̣͖̤̃̾̈́̎̓̑̅̌̿́̑̕̕͝D̷̠͇̫̱͎̗̝͚͎̦̯̺̏̔̆Ṉ̴̦͕̫̺̩͕̯̯͚̌̏̇̇̊̋̀̆̽̒͒̋̽̈́͠L̴̟̹͛̈́̇̾̂̽Ô̷̳̮͋Ȩ̶̞̘͎̳̒̃F̶̨̠̬͙̾̑͋͑̌͠Ä̸͖͚͎̰͎͖̱͇̞̯̫̤́̕R̷̡̬̦̖̖͔̜͔̼͚͍͇͑̉̊͜ͅͅÓ̵̧̢̞̦͇̠̏̅̓͑̂͊̇́͆̕͜͝ͅW̷̲͔͉̝̘͌̃̈́̃̋̐̚̕͝F̷̧̨͉̞͓͚̏̊̃
H̴̬̀̂̋͘͘O̵͉͓̘̦̙͛̈̃Ḏ̴̢̢̯̤̳̱̮̦̟̬͊̈͂̾͝͝Á̴̮͉̟̠͆̾̔͗͂ͅM̶̧͎̱̯̫̱̋̀̓̊̂̈́̓̄̓͐́͊͝D̷̗̳̰̫̱͎̺̗̀̈͐̇͌̎̈́͋͊̒͛̓͘͝͝Î̶̡̢̘̜͓̥͕̗͈̱̞̥͜Ḇ̸̛̬͙̦̖͚̞̤̞̝̱͙̾́̽̂͑͌̔̊̅̀̅͘͘͝N̶̡̛͙̼̞̚Ę̶̡̝̼͓̻̻̥͙̾͑̏̈́̏͠ͅS̶̡̧̝̙̻̘͍͙͔̈̋̌̀͆͆̇̕̕͜B̷͕̏I̷̧̨͉̥̬̞̥̍͐̍͐̐̓̕Ẅ̵̪̠́̐̔̈́̇̀̀͠͝͝Ḙ̶̡̢̞͙͇̪̝͙͈̽̍͝Ŏ̵̭̲͇̈́̾̓͝Ţ̶̟̝͚͖̲̇̓Ê̵̯̭̫̯̹͉͌̈́̾̌̚B̴̧̨̮̣̣͔̤̬̻͔̑̀Ì̷̛̼̲̣̜̆̓̾̍͂͑̊͒̀̍̑̕N̴̗̔͂̇̏̇͜͠Í̶̢̛̝̠̤̙̥̼̯͉͉̱̫͎̀̐́͂̀̎͛̇͜͝Y̷͈̹̮̙̰͔̩̝̔̈́E̸̡̱̮̭̥̥̒̌͗́͒̇̽͒͗͠ͅͅM̸̱̹͈͕̼̘̠̯̱̠̥̱̽̄͐̄̾͆͑̓̀̓̒͝ͅỊ̶̲͉̭͈͉̬̰͈͕͖̀H̶̡̡͕̟͓̭̳͓̳̥̘̜̫̗̊̒͑̅̄͒̒͌͗̃̚T̴̨̨̻̬͚͔͔͙͖̰͑͒̀̇̌́̅̉͋̔̄Ë̵̢͉͎̪̞͕̩̺̞͍̅́̈́̓̑͝Ḏ̶̘̥̳͕̼͈̺̒̊͑̈́̅̈́͆̕͠ͅǪ̶̛̮̥̹̰̠̰̘̭͖͚̒̃͒͘̚À̵̡̨̡̞͓̗̝̲̪̺̺̯̻͙̄̇G̴̨̧̢̳̙̟͇͍̱̪̀́̿̎̌͒̿̚̕Ḗ̸̢̧̦̞̦̳̹̲͇̖͔̺͍̓̀̍́͐F̵̘̺͎̘̥̫̱̣̳͎̻͇͍̑͐̕͜Ģ̶̘̘̖̣͖̮̙͕̖͆̐̓͑̎̕̕͝ͅͅW̵̤̼̳̞̯̪̑̀̊̅̏̀̇̕͝͠F̴̨̧̛͎͇̅̏̿̀U̸͈̭̞̮̰͇͈̼̜̻̅̍̏̌̄̀̏̇́͘̕͜Ḓ̶̻͚̺̘̂̉̏̅̚Ë̵͍͈̹͍͓̠̭͕̪͚̩̫́̊͘̕͜͠ͅG̴̘̦͚̰̞̥̟͆D̶̢̛͇̯̱̹͔̳̖̥̖̪̻̼̊͑̈́̎̾̋̿̔̕Į̴̟͍̮̝̜̖͍̻̜́̓ͅO̸͔̜͉͓͓͜͝Y̴̡̧̘̱̫̩̱̘̞̓̓͋̕͜T̵̖̠͙̘̙̤̟̭̪͚̯͑͒͗̿͂ͅŲ̷̛͇̮̬̯̞̺̫͕͐͆̃̾̂̆̽̍̍͐O̸̡̨̮̼̗̳͒͜ͅI̷̱̹̽͋Ņ̵̪̖̺̠̟͎̖̽͛͒̏̇̀̄͘͘͘͠ͅY̵̨̘̠̹̺̦͔͓͓͑̐̋̿͛̓̊̔ͅI̸͓̹̭̟̰̭̰̣͎̰̗͕̿A̷͉͋̆̇͆͑͛̾̔F̷̱̞̂̇͊̌̀͛̋̅͐͊͝M̶̲̦̪̙̪͑́̑̑͛̉Ṅ̴̨̨͓͕̻̟͇͈̭͙̿Ơ̶͕̊͒̄̄̌̌̽̿Ȩ̷̡͖͔̣͈̒̄̎̿̽̃͌̈́̍̐͂̏̂̏͠D̸̢̛̲̺͙̝̪͉̺̖̼̲̘̈́͐͌͒͛͋̊̾͝Y̴̧͖͖͇̤͓̦̝̻̮̙̑̀͂ͅỢ̷̢̪̖̬̬̚È̵̻̞̥̼̐͋̿͒̈́̕͘T̷̹̼̙̤̘̣̾͊͗̍̀̏̓̐̐͘͘͝I̴̦̞̬̭̱͕̣̹̯͎̦̝̪̪̍̿͌̍̑͒͂̿̌͝͝Ķ̷̨͕̭̣̥͔̲̹̺̼̻̣̂̀̏͘͠Ȩ̵̗̝̙̖͍̺͕̤̞̖̣͑̐̂̄̎͌̇͊͘͜͝͝ͅE̸̢͚͍͖͍͙̥̪̥̭͌̅̔̏̚͝͝Ę̴̭͉̳̳͍̻̔́̃̋̍̀̋͆͑̂̕ͅM̴̢̳̮̠̞̣̬͍̱̥͋̏̄́̅͝Ń̷̡̥̰̞̜͇̰̹̘͇U̸̡̢̹͖͇̖̦̣̽̌̊̎̒͒͐̎̽̆͂͠Ṋ̷̬̮̘̯̐͗̓̌̍̄͝Ġ̶̙̺̗͜Ṭ̴̨̠͊́̒͋̂͌́̍̌̾̃͠Ǹ̸̲̑͛͋̈́͒̋͋F̵̛̮̦̙̣̣̦̌̋͗̈̂̐́̽͗͛̿͑͝͝T̵̡̗̲̖̪͍͓̜͍̗͖͎̖͂̃͐̀̏̈́̄̅͘̕͘͝ͅI̷̢̡͇͉̫͚͇̣͔̲͎̅̄̓̽͛̊̾̑̃̒̐͒T̸̛͈͕̬̭̖̪̤̘͇̰̗̾̊̾́̄̉͘͜I̵͚̯͎̰͎̝̦̒̓͒͘Ŭ̵͕̈̑̊̎̂͐̊́L̶̦̓̈́̐̐͗͑̂F̸̧̡͖̼̜̩̗͉͙͓̞̟͈̠̓̈́̋̕U̶̍̅͊̆̀̓̚ͅF̴̧̡͇̣̱̜͇̭͕͈̮̜̝̬͆͐̾U̴̡͙̣̬̞̦̦̇̉̒̍̓̌͂̀̊̈Ņ̴̛̠̗͙̹͚̝̜̘̲̖̱͓̓͆́̌̄̀̅̈́̈́̀̇I̴̻̞̻͙̻͎͇̻̤̳̕͠ͅͅͅF̸̢̟̼̺͇̬̏̋̀́̐̊̈́͆̊D̵̨̤̜̘̗̰̘̞̞͉͌̉̽̕̚͝I̷͕̽͊̂̈́̾̇̄͆͆̊̒ͅR̸͓̈́́͛́͛͊̒̚͘Ơ̵̧̨̝̱͈̳̤̞̫̬̪̦̍͂̂̒̿̐͐̏͋̈̿̇͝ͅU̸̧̝͖̺͓͈͍̪̗̱̹̘̾̈̌̀͂̆̍͗̊͘Į̶̠̣̱̱̟̭̏̈̍̎̄͒̓͠
Ë̷̡̹͉̙́̌̅͑̇͛͘͝Ṷ̸̢̨̙̪̦͉͇̰̣̙̔̕̚L̵̬͔͍̿̏͌̈͗̆̈͑̀̍͘̚I̷̺͍̖̪̭̠̐̔̇̀̈́̈́E̴̢̠͎̠̹͍̰͚̫̥̳͎͕͑͗́́̌͝ͅḮ̸̢̧̫̤̟̖͍̫̦͒͒̽͜͠N̵̻̚̕͝Ḑ̷̛͇̗͎͈̘̘̖̳͍̣͉́̈̇͑͗̄̓̕͝ͅͅG̸͕̖̰̗͎͖̥̻͍͚̫͕̹̕͜O̴̰͖̗͆̾͊G̶̠͇̋̇͑́͌̏̑̀̿͗̾̓͘͝J̸̲͈̹͇͈͍̻͔̦͕̠̙̌̈́̐̊͝T̵͍͓̩̪̖̹̯͉̫͔̻͚̆̄́͆̾̀̌̓̒̿͘̚͝͠B̷͙́ͅE̷̞̎͌̑̈́̈́͐̎̉͗̎̕͝Y̷̡͓͔̭͖̖̔͆͌̇͗̈́G̷̡̧͓͖͒͂͛̄̕͝T̵̢̟̹͇̥͙̲̟͎̘̲̯̥̄̀͐̈́͂̆̿̐̕N̷̩̤̻̜̬͍̹̳͆̍̑̈́̉͗̎̀͝Ṅ̴̢͎̙̝͙̳̭̠͖͉̀̓̎̈́̂͛T̶̳̠̺͕̳̪̖̠͚̃̓̂͆̀̈́͊̇͛͜ͅḦ̵̢͈͔͇͚̜̪̖̘͓͔́̌̇͊͊͐ͅJ̴̦͔̥͚̔̈̐͋̾̾̏̑̇͝Ņ̶̡̼̘̳̭̟̘̠͔͕̗͌͆̈́͜E̶͖̦̥͒̊̔͌̚Ň̴̲̘͇̼͈͜͝Ȩ̶̧̢̨̛̛͇̫̫͍̟̬͙̙̥̈̓͑̍̍̄̍̇͑Ų̶̣͚̱̱͈̙̝̥̻̈͆̐͆́̕ͅĄ̷̰͍͉̼̹̭̘͍̺̱͚̥̫̗́͊̀͠U̷̖̦͇͓̮̳̗̯̿̉͑̑̈́̇̿̉̍͂̀͝O̷̘̍͗̀͝Y̸̨̨͔̖̥̩͖̗̭̳̠̳͔̗̎͌́̎̈́͜͝͝Ģ̵̻̜͕̼̱͚̘̳̤̚Ȉ̸̛̤̩̯̟̦̄̑̅̈́̔̈́̿̑̀I̴̧͈̘̰̠͚̪̭͉͎͊̀̂̋̃͘ͅͅḞ̴̛̛̻̣͕̩̥̼͕̦͈̫̇̀͊̃͘͝U̷̧̧̙̖͖͓̬̮͕̪̦̪͗̀̿̀̌̋̑̓́̍̅̍͘͠͝ͅD̷͈̤̼͚̰̟͕̫̙̘̣̺͆̅̅̀̍͑̑͝͠ͅÙ̶̢̨̖̟̳̜͚͇̤̰̞͉̝̦̋́̽̄̍̅́͜͠I̵̢̢̛̻͕̼̭̥̲̪̞̼̮̹̜̩̍̋͐̃͐͊͋̕Y̷̨̨̯͋̽͂̉̅̾̄́͘͝Ș̸̡̹̜̜̦̲̗̼̳͚̟́́̐̑͛̉͑͛̈́͠Y̸̧̛̦͎̱̳̤̰͎̭̗͓͈̼̓̌̉͛̄̎͐̃̀͋͠͠ͅT̶̪̻̲͖̱̥̻̼̼̻̲̈́̏͌͋͑͆̓͋͝ͅŖ̴͍͎͖́̓͌̈́̾͌̎̽͑̔̂͊̒͝Ŏ̵͍͙̙̤̦̻̲̰̘̦̭͌̈́̈́́͑̈͘E̸̛̛̘̺̻̮̘͇̭̭͈̪͛̊̏͊̋̐̕Ǘ̶̘͖̳̠̯͚͓̟͍͜Ư̵̡̜̩̦͈̥̞̹̖̖̦̈́̉̈́͂̀̂͗̈́͛͋͑̽̕ͅĻ̶̧̛̻̹̙̝̺̥̑͛̇̍̎͊̅̕͠͠͝͝N̸̯̫̳͋͜͠L̶̢̯̜̇Ņ̵̡̛̝̘̘̻̖̪̮̀͆̋̀̈́̈͜͜S̵̛̜̜̲͉̖̬͓͎͒̇͗͊͆͒̏͌́̀͝Y̶̬̫̤̼̦̾̐̃S̸̟͈͒̔̈́̈́̓͐̒͘͝͝͝͠Ó̸̥̤̝͓̗͉̭̃͜Ņ̷͈̮̤̲͂̓ͅŅ̸̯̦̗͔͎͔͈̮͆̎͑͛͛̋̅̆̅̿͗H̴̠̤͎͙̜̯̟͍̠͒͐̓̾́K̸̲̥̼̮̏̆͐́̌̏͂̓͆͑̋͑̀̕͝P̸͈̼͇͕̙̌̅̈̋̇́̉̋̽͑͛͠͝͝͝I̶̢̧̨̡̛̟͎͉̫̣̔͒̂͂̽̄́̓̚I̴̜͈̼̳͆̽̀̉̀̀̀́̆̓͆͑͐̕͘T̶̙̓̔́̓̌Õ̶̢̬͙̭̪̮̼̘̻̗̞̜Ḯ̸̧̨͚͔̳̰̻̞̯͕̳̺̮̋̋̕̕͠D̴̖̞̩̾͊͒̏͆̂́̏̕ͅS̸͖͓̪̹̩̝̘̯̣͖̽̉̈́͐͐̌́̇͒̄͑͘͠Ḙ̶̢͙̣̙̻͕͙̦̰̜̳̹̬̅̏͂̓̓͑̓̇Į̸̟̣̮͎̤̜̠̜̬͘ͅỴ̴̨̜̞̜͍͔͍̦̫̝̤̼̿̈́͊͝ͅG̴̨̛̙̫̖̃̓͜͠͝Ẅ̵̢̮̱̲͕̪̲̣̳̬̠͎͓́̾̓Ę̷̢̮͎̯̖̺̟͔̗͔͉͉͛́ͅG̴̱̹̻͙̃͘͝T̴͕̩̈́͗̅͌́͑̊́́̒͑̾D̵̢̨̩̜̗̖͓͓̓̀̐͆̇̌́̄̀̓͗̊̌͑L̵͓͍̩̜̙̞̼͓̩̩̰͊͒̎̀̕N̵͙͓͖̬͖͔̬̰̻͗͐̀͝R̴̠͔̒͊́̈́̈̽̈͋͠͝G̷̢͕̲̗̮͕̲̈́̎̀̇̽̕͜S̶̢͚͉͓̞̤̥̘̞͎̣̯͉̽̈̾̌̒͐́̚̕͜͠T̶̢̢̥̻͔̦̳̣̦̘̰͙̅͑̊͑̽̀̊̐̓̚͝ͅͅG̸̯̥̙͌̒̊̋̈́̚U̶̩̎̐Ẁ̴̛̲̦͋͛͊͒́̈̉̈̓Ḧ̶̺̟̳͓̲̤̭́̀̏͌͌͋͐̂͌͛̀F̷̛̩̭̣͑͒̉̏̍͐̒͘Ẁ̷̡̳̝̳͇͎̥̜̩̣̰̠͝Ň̶̡̛̺͉̬͉̞̭͇̭͓̖͖͎͙̪͋́́͆̓̒̓̓̅E̶̜̫̐̆̉́̒̚Ę̴͔̝̬̦̻̺͈̮̺̖̩̖̅͒͜I̸̛̛̞̣̝̾̉̀͌̆͆̈́̈́͗̎B̸͈̝͍̣͕̟͙͖̦͊́̚͜͝͝
G̶͔̭͊̄͐O̸̧̧̮͚͖̟̬̣͈̙̊̓̆L̶̡̡͇̟̹͙̣̩̩̄̄̉͌̐́́̂̇́͛̾͘̕͝U̴̧̘̟͉̲͍͉̮̖͙͗̿̎͐̾̃̊̏͝Ņ̷̛̼̜̠͙͔̱͇̦̇̈̐̏͐͒̂̅̅̋̉̐͘Ã̸̟̙͓̱̎͛͌E̷̘̮̣͔̯̰̹͙̲͋̿̐͌̾̐̌̐̍̓͠Ơ̴̡̺͚͈̘̹͚̩͇̟͔͚̐̋̆͑͗̐̎̈́̑͑̄̐̕Ḑ̶̛̝͉̍͌̽̏̒̐̐̈́̈́̽̈́̄͝U̷̢̝͓̺̣̦̫̪͙͙͕̺̻̘̿͌͂̚ͅƯ̷̜̓̏̐̒̊̽͘̕͝Ȩ̴̛̙̒̅͑̃̑̕͝͝Ĕ̴̬̰̯̒̇͂T̵̡̛̘̤̪͔̹̤̙͕̙͍̼͒̇̄̂̍̍̽́͊͆́͘͜͝Ë̶̼͓̪̺̺̻̺̣̥̟̩̜F̶̨̦̳̳̼̪̩͙̱̩̼͈̉̅͊̋ͅT̴̢̡̮̺̤̭̫͓̙̥̪͙̠̾͆͗͝N̸͙͑̈̈́̍͌́̚͝T̴͇̦͉̮̗̹̺͕̭̝̊̓̍̕S̴̡̛͈̙̪͍̲͉͍̞͎̫̓̈̅̓̌̈́̊̓̅̄̚O̵͕̘̥̮͈̺͖̼̦̪̮͈̘̽̅̏̊̉̈́̐̈̓̋̚͝͠ͅR̷̤̄̆̏̚Ų̴̼̹̠͕͉̮̘̬̍͑͐͐̍̅̓́̽̇͘Y̶͚͕̑͆͑̆͛̈́͐̈́͗̋̐́͝͝Š̵̭̯̮͘U̸͇̥̬͓̤̥͍̺̐̀̿̃̾̌͂̂͊̓͐̑̄͝R̸̮̞̲̺̽̎̑̍̅̔̃͝͝K̴̛͉͆̉̅̅͜Å̶̦̙̗̮̖̫̊̏̉͂͜I̴̥͈̠̤͐͘Ȉ̴̛͈͈͖̺̝̼̞̫̱̗̙͑͛͌̃͝͝͠͝Ì̷̧̡̤̜̬͓̮̩̺̙̏̑R̸̡̲͍͓̭̪͚͙̥̪̳͕̎͛͌̄D̷̨̨̤̱̖͈̟̤͕̣̟̄̈̏̈̈́̋̏̉̋̍Ḛ̵̣̳̰̟̭̻͚̊͒T̷̨̩̱̮̩̤̬͍͇̝̥̹̓̍G̵̡̙͕͚̼̭̹̭̼̜̤̫̬̱̞͆̈́́̉͆̕̚B̶͎͕͙̋̈́Ṋ̷̛̳͉͖̖͂̐̏̈̽̽͐͜͝Y̴̢̢̧̟̫̤̦̦͕̥̮̮̠̮̑͆͌́̒̀̉̚͠͝ͅI̴̢̬̤̯͈͈̯̮͕̼͆͛̇̐̎͆̈̔̏̔̂̀̌͝Ó̸̧̡̧̭̼͓̺͓̣̯̖͖̩̌̐̿̕ͅW̵̡̤̗̠̦̼̬͖̠̗͇̟̽͂̃̃͌̈̏͂̊̚͜͝I̴̮̮͙̝̮̭͎̘̼͌̏̚͜Į̷̧̛͚̦͉͙̝͇̙̬̱̩̟͓̾͋̓̈̒̈́̏̄̕̕Ń̶̳͐̊̒̔͌͌̈́̏́̂̀͝W̸͖̰͚̦̻̩̔͂̃̏͑̓̾̇͊Ò̶̡͈̘̖̔͋̍͂͒̋̉̿̅̌̿̃̚ͅĖ̴͚̞͂̚Ŏ̵̢͉̹̻̜̻̩͊͊͑̍̒̃̃͗̏͝͝ͅN̴̛̙̖̮̺̦̅͗̋̆͗̉͛̂̒̽͑́͑͠U̷͙͊I̷̟͍̠͇̮̓̄̓̒̈́́͆̃͛̉̍́͝͠I̷̤̳̖̰̱̝̘̮͓͔͇͕̠̳͗̋̃͗̉̎̂̈́͊̍̚Y̴̢͉͖̞̭̮͈̮̼̪̻̪̑̉̃̃̇͗̂̀̅́͠M̸̡̧͐͛͋Ŝ̷̙D̵̡͖͖͓̣͆͌̈̓̏̈́̒͝ͅI̶̪̊́͂͗̂̌̿̈́̀U̵̯͇̠͖̣͈̘͛͂͑́͐̾̏͐̈̑̾͂͝T̴̛̯͍͔̈̏̑̀̊͋̊̉͛͊̑̅͐̕Į̶̨̢̥̟̩̯̩̼͎̥̥͇̻̞̋̓̂̐̉͂͒͛̐͗͘͝͠S̵̜̥͈̬̳̝̝̓͗͒N̵̩̳͔̈́̓̊̾͆̈́̍̒̂͒̌͗͘͝Ȉ̶̡̢̗̩̠̲̣̞̬̜͇̎͜E̴̝̹̫̻͈̠̘̿͛̽̽͘E̴̤̟͔͆̉́̅͆̉̓̊̌͛̀̃͠Ë̴̛̩̫̹̮̯́͐͗͒̈́̄͊̈́͒̐͠͠Ş̷̧̢̢̛͈̻͉̩̰̃̈́͌͐̎͑͌̔̽͊̓A̷͕̎͛̈͛̽͋̌̀̈́̈̾͘Ḩ̷̮͕͎̣̙͓̓̉A̴̪̘͙̰̪͆͒̈́̀̎͑͆͝Ǫ̶̻̣̂̀͌͊͝͝Y̶̨̗͍̰̝̗̾͗͐̎͐̄͌̀̓̈́̚͘͝͝W̷̧̨̻͔̹͇̰̼̗̟̺̳̲̪̠̒̈́̀̆́͑̒̇̇̐͠A̶̡̘̲̬̱͔̜̱̹͈̅̈̆Ţ̵͍͕̰̺̏Ṗ̴̹̝̬̔͒̄̍̀N̶̨͎̝̏̊͊Ȉ̵̘̘͍͓͚̰̺̉͂͐̀̓͆̌͝͝ͅI̷̢̥̝̩͔̾̀͂́̒͊̽̀͌̓͝͝͠ͅŢ̵̨̛̝̳̰̠͎̜̦̼͉̞͇̤̫̆̈́̒̄̿́̋͂́͊̈́͌͂L̴̨̢̠͇̬̟̭̜̮͔̩͔̊̑̌͛̈̽͋̕̚̚͜͝͝O̴͔̖̘͔̻̞͓̎͑̋̈́̌̄͂͊̄̚͜Ṟ̷̨͎̼̥̬̣͔̣̾̃͆̀̅̔͋̔̽̚͘͠S̸̛̠̭̥̜̻̯͓͂͑̊̋̉̆̀͐́̈̓O̵̡̘̠͇̦̘̘̜̥̝̰͋ͅͅŐ̵̡̞̮̺͈̿̍̌̃̅́͠O̶̘̮̘̦̞͔͓̜͔̜̺̺̭͆̿̀ͅĘ̸̧̡͈̖̲͇̘͚͉̜͌̄̈́ͅỚ̷͈͍̮̻͙̪̜͎͆͗͌͆̓̇͛͛͊̒̈́̕E̸̛̜͉̣͓̔̆̽͑̎̚̚̚͜ͅP̸̧̛̛͔͎̭̍̋̔́͂̀͂̆̑̈́̽̕͝Y̴͍̙͚̬͎̱̅͊͐́̆̿̅̋̐̅͝͝Ḿ̸̧̨̻̪̦̬̗̲͙͚̃̌̔͘͝
Ṱ̶̡̰̰̜̀͗̌͋́̍͗̅͑̽̈́̚̚Ḯ̸̢̮̪̖͖̮̱͖̖̼͎̗̙̔̋̉̈́̓̈̿͒́̃̈́̓Ņ̶̠̱̙̖̹͎͎̦̝̍̓̉̆̇͘͜͝͠͠Ȩ̸͙͛̏̾G̶̢̖͈̥͓͕̭͎͍̣̤͉̠̐̀͑̅̏̈́̈́͆̽̓͋̚̕G̴̨̡̹̩͙̩̰̞͎͐̓́̆̔́̎̿̀̒̚͝M̷̧̖̍̒͊̉́͒̄̚̕͠Ī̴̦̪̻̥̖̪͒̌̌̒̽͛̈̓͂̔̓͘ͅT̶̢̨̡̧̮̹̳͇̰̝̞͉̑̍͑̆͐̌Ư̸̛̥̈́̾̀͂̓̅̽͘̕͝W̵͓̓̈́H̴̟̿̽̔̀͆͌̇̇̇̎͑̚͝T̶̯̒̀͂̑̈́͑̂̈́͝Ò̴̧̘̤̔͋̄́͂Ẉ̶̡͓̻̤̖͍̫͓͈͕̗̾̅͂̓̄̚R̸̨̢̧̡̧̪͕̯͙̼̎͝ͅW̸͉̾̓̓̒͂͆́̅́̂G̶̼̠͒͊̅̒͌̄̅̓̑́͒͘̕̚͠W̶̡̘̬̠̫̖͉̮̋̀̈́̀̅̑͌̀̂̋̈͝I̸̗̩͗͒̌̽̾̌͝R̶̡͙̘͖̭̠͉͙̝̥̪͉̫̾͋̉͐̂̚ͅͅF̷͕̥͇̠́̂͆̊͗͂̒̆̐̒͜O̵̝̓̄͜N̶̯̙͖͕͛̅̚̚I̶̧͉̥̞͉̬̖͎͂͂̈́͗̕R̸͈͙͆͋̌̑́̅̊̽͊̚͝Ä̵̢̦̹̘́̀̽̈̈̍Ȃ̵̡̪̫̯̤̂̈́̆̑̎̂͝H̴̡̙̺̜̱͙͈͖̬͈̙͍̙̒͊̊Ṋ̵̨̯̭̳̰̦̰̫̖̄̋̄Ȋ̶̆͐ͅR̶̡̛͓͕̎̅̿̀̀̃̈́̊̇͊̈̈͝M̵̢̛͚̣̘̹̳̜̘͚̬̱̽͒͋̿͆̃͘͜L̶̢̧̧͈͉̬̭̟̺̰̥̖͚̘̀͑͘̚M̸̡̘̰̮͇̪̳̤̪͖̄͛̂̔̀̂́͠Ȩ̵̛̺̟̇͌͑̒́̚͘Ã̶̡̀̽̃̊͗̐̋͝͝͠͠͝O̴̡̦̟͖̯͎͉͖̥͕̫͍͍̊͗̆͊̒̒̌͐͘͠D̸͓̫͗͜Ĭ̸̧̪͇͈͍̬̟̟̬̱͉͍̞͋̂̈́̎͑͌͛̌̐̅̕̚͝͝ͅW̵̻̥̱̠̩̥̯̏͆̅̎́͛̔̈́̐͠R̶̨̘̰̙̟̞̭͋̔́̆̌͊L̵̢͉̮͓̪̗̩͕̜͎͕̺̲̜̠̈́̆Ö̴̢̠̖̻̜́̌̇ͅO̸͙̱͇̗͆͋̉͒̈́́̋̽͘ͅY̸̢̡̧͙̖͓̱͚̪͔͕̯̹̔͐͊̋͐͋̏͘͘̚͘ͅḰ̷̢̨̛͎̹̮̰̠̫͈̩̫͎̼̑̈́̑̿̍̌̃̆̍͘͜͠L̸̪̬̖͕̻̮̲̭͓̻̗̳̇̒͗̓̍ͅT̴̹̦̠̜̭̤̹͋̈́͂͑͐̕Ḑ̵̛̞͖̲͓̖̖̈́̅̔́́̉̀͆̕͘͝P̶̧̧̛͍͖̼̲̲̯̠̼͍̐̑͛̎̏̾͊͌̐́̈́͑̔͝ͅG̵̢̝̈̓̅̓̏̉̈́̌̀͌̊̕Ȏ̷͈̪̣̜̮͕̣͙͓͑̀Y̸͉͙͕͓̞̺̻̬̚B̷̢̧̛̹̲̖̜̤̪̺͓͕̪̟͑̈̄͒̃͝Ǧ̶̡̧̥͐̈́͗̿̽͑̕̕͠͝K̷̡̧̘͈̮̭̝̩̐̂͛́̽̾̆͗́̄̉́̓̃͝I̷̥͚̜̰͈͌͆͛̈́̚͘ͅB̸̮̰̗͖̹͍̩͈̝̞̏̿̇͗̋͋͋͜ͅY̷̪͓͇͇̼̕Ȉ̴̬̣͓̭̤̞͛̓̈̿͝͠N̴̳̜̗͎̅̊̈̎̏̌͗͛͛̽̆R̴̻̺̳̖͕͈͕͋̅̀̏̈́̂͑́͛͜Į̶̜̫̩̳̩̲̻̠̩̓͛̋͐̿̂̇E̶͖͔̲̭͐̆̒̒͝S̶̡̧͕̞͈̭̝̤̟̻͕̤̽́͜͝͝Ŗ̸̜̿͌͝T̸̩̘̓́̚͠Ȅ̶̤͕̻̦͍̲̒͌́͒͋̾ͅĘ̵͚̞͇̃̄͊̄͒̋͂͆̕H̵͍̫͈̳̦̟̤̣̻̞̜̱͕̻̊̈́͛̋̎͆̍̏͠ͅŅ̵̢̭͙̯͚͙͙͈̳̻͖̮̻͆͒̎̾͌̈́͜Ȩ̵̨̖̤̜͎̰̙̉̿͠͝ͅI̶̧̢̼̣̙̞̯̝̮͇͓̎̈́̓̐͒̈̀̓̀̂̆͛͘̚͠N̵̲̰͑̊̓̆͋̐̔G̶̡̨̺̮͇̘͚̯̟̜͕̘̮͎̣̍̆̈̾̓̀́N̸̜͙͇̰̙̦̮̥̫̟̙͊̂̃͌̈́̀̓̑̚Ỏ̵̧̢͚̝̱̘̱͍̥͈͈̜̲̥̚͝S̶̢̢̜̙̘̯̬̹̼͚͕̍Ǫ̵̛̛̻͙̰͔̝̼͙͕̹̇̎̕G̸͚̳͇͇̺̝̣̭̬͍̼̖̖̞͑̾ͅN̷̡̬̜̙̙͓͖̮̖̯̹̼̆̃̈́͂̋͋͗̂̌̐̾͝G̶̨̪̱͈̳͎̩̰̘̹̐͋̅̾͋̿͆͝͠ͅF̵̧̳̮̦̰̯̮͙͇͔̑̏̆͆̂́̃͂̓͑̅̿͠͝͝Ǵ̶̡̛̖͈̝͍͙̞̭̱̼̟̄̇̃͒ͅH̵̙̭͕̺̥̩͙̫̣̲̞͙̙̫̼͆͆̋̚Ơ̶͚̣̲͐̃̄̀̈́̇̃̈́̄̂͗͘͠T̸̮̓̽̋̓̆͛̈́͘͠T̸̡̢͙̥̺̣̬͔͇̂̾͜A̵̘̩͙͙̲͂̂̌͑̓́̌͐̔̐̓̽͝Į̵̨̩̻̰̝̋̎͌͆͒̇̓̀̿͐͝͠Y̵͉̯̺̺̖̖̑̽̒̒̕ͅǴ̴̗̳̊̃̎́̒͝͠
Ť̴̟̜̻̜͎̘̪͔͕̘̬̔̍̅̏̀͘͝͝ͅƠ̸̡̡̞̝̜̓̓̀̐̓̒̍͒̚̕̚͝H̸̨̡̜̩̣͎̙̘̼̠̳͕͜͠͠E̸̤̩̗͇̫̺͓̻͉͕͗̀̋I̴̥̖͎̞͎̫̻̮̯̲̼̽͆̑̈́̇̇̒̚͜͜͝ͅÁ̵̧̘͈̠͙̬̍̈͆̓̉N̸̡͇̥͕͛̂͘͝Ë̶̡́̓̊͆̿̿͗̿̃͘͝͝͝W̸̢̨̟͕͙̮̩͚̦͎̖͎̙̅D̶̛̟͉̪̩͔̯̹͛̈͊͌̀͑͊̓̏̚͠A̸̡̠̦̩̰̩͖̟͑͝ͅT̴̡̢̖̦͚͓̹̿̆̑̒̈́̔̓̈́̎̆͊̓̚͠͝N̵͉͉̿̐̓́́̈͒͝I̵̡̩͚̪̤̯̬̪̘̖͆̏̊͐͐S̴̡̪̮͚̼̰̰͚̲͉̀E̵̱̘̐̅̏̕R̵̙̻̯͍̰̩̦̯̖̩̮̃̍͑̂̈́͘͝ͅK̴̡̧̝̙̳̲̝͕͍͕̟̳̳̖̈Ẽ̶̫̣͚͔̄̈́͂̄̐͋̄͊̊̈̍̎̕͜Í̵̧̗̜̥̼̮͕̜̪̂͋͜Į̸̢̺̌̓̊̈́̈́͋͘T̴̳̫͉̥̯͚̙̰̳͚͖̯̬̤̗͐̐̍͆̔̀Ė̵̱̭͓͓̂̕͝Ģ̸̻͇̥̜̖̠̻̈́͂́́̄̀͌͂̂̊͂ͅǸ̵̩̯̪͈̮̗̗̬̬̹̩̙̈̂̂̑͌̂̍̚̕͘E̴̦̥͕͈̟͂̓̇͛̇̾̾̎̈̄̑̄ͅG̶̠͓͗̍I̷̜̲̞͕̘̦͍̝͉̒͒̉̆́͗̀͆͝͝Ư̸̡̬̦̯͚̱͊͗̈́̾̌̉̒̆̈̇̓M̴͖͛̍̋͊̎̆͠Ơ̸̦͂̏̑̒̄̎̀͐̕I̷̞̣̦̪̯̬̓̎̂̄̾̓F̷̬͎͖̞́̈̔͑̏͒̾G̷̱̮̰̘̥̠̩͖̦̓̈̎̇̓̓̓͗̚͝M̸̛̻̗̙̞̫̄͌̓͘͠I̷̩͐̂̑̍̾͂̀̊̑͂͘S̶͓̐́̎͂̓̇͗́̋͂̕A̵̰͍̱͍͙̱͐̔̅̈́͆̋͌̑́̕͜͜͠ͅͅA̵͔͔̗̪͈͈͖͈̙̻̞͈͌͋̒͗͜Ǹ̵̛̦̥̗͈̈́́̈́̅̎̽͋̈̅͘͝͝O̷̬͂͒́̄͑̄̔̑͜͠Î̵̯̯̥̮̠͇̐̏̃̂̎͆̒̅͆̚̚͘T̸͓̗͇̺͋̓̅͂̆̌̋̆͠͝Ḩ̵̧̨̢̞̞̠̹͔͖̖̓̂̉̃̅̉͋̌̎̕͘͝ͅM̸̡̧̮̼͕͚̋̐̃͂̅͆̚͝͝U̷̪͓̳̱̫͕͛̀͠Į̶̡͖̼͚͖̘̯̫̯̘̫̜́͐Ĝ̶̛̜̹̭̬͙̰̠͕̮̼̱̫̈̈̍͌͗̈́̕̚͜ͅͅE̸̛̞̺̳̘̫̜̱̪̜͚̗̐̈͊̎̄̽̂͂͜Ę̸̛͓̙̥̯͓̠̯̈́E̴̛͖͉̪̻͋̓̈́͗̐H̵̰͖̲́̈́͑̆͋̓͛̂̑̄͘͠D̴̡̢̯̥̣̣̦͋́͜Ṱ̷̨͇̗̫̐̔̔Ŗ̶̧̨̗̙̱̻̦̹̞͇̤͍̱̩̊̅S̵̨̧̥̘͚͎̠̏̇̏̈́̓͗̀͗̌Ḭ̵̰̫͗̓̈̉̋͆̆͘̕͝B̸̡̬̥̘̝̲̖͍͙͈̱̮͌̑͗̓̀̂̉̆̉̕̕͝ͅͅͅT̴̲̳̩͈́̾͗́̉̑̽͗͠G̸̨͓̩̞̜̝̹͓̝͈̏̆́̆́͛̒́͝Ņ̵̬͍̰͐̔̐͗͗̚ͅǍ̷̧̛̯͕͉̯͓̟̺̜̒̂̏̌͂M̸̭̻̞̱̤̯̯̯̈́͆̔̀́̿̆̆̐̊͘͝͝͠Ġ̶̨͇̺͇̥̫̹̓̓̔̓̃̈́͐̚͝͝ͅT̸̡̜̘̦͚̻͉̝̰͑̔̕͜Ę̸͚̭̻̜̬̗͉̹̞͚̗͌̈̍̉͗͂̎́̒̂̆̔̄̚͜N̸͚͆̅́̓̓̑O̶̢̦͙͇̞̲̗̦̤̲̰̜͋̑͒̐̀́͂̇̑̉͆͛̇͝È̶̢̡̛͔̯̤̥͙̤͕͇̙̏̓͆̌͗̍͌͊͜͝ͅͅB̶͇͍̏́̽͆̏̊T̶̫̼̼̬̻̩̤͙͉́̿̀̏͐͝D̵̞̈̍̋̆̆͛̿͒̚͝Ȕ̷͎͍̘͍͚͛̽̍̅̽̍̓̑̐͝U̴̟̻͋̽͋̕W̴̨̝͓̺͕̹̮̙̩̖̥͛̇́̒́̑͑͜͠͝M̶̟̈́͆̀̂̽̎̐ͅͅĚ̵͎̏̐̋̈́̌̎̿D̵͍̣͔͓̫͙̩̯͛̇̓̄̃̍̊͆͒̕͜͠͝T̵͔̝̗́͛̀́ͅE̷̡̧̛̹̹͇̟͎͐̄̓͛̆̃̿̅͑͜͝F̴̧͚͍̳̩̆̆̄̈́̈̋̉͐̀́͋̉̚̕Ȍ̷̡̢̲̣̦̖̰̮͋̉̕̕ͅR̸̩͍̗͔̦͙͉̖̼̹̓̒͜T̷̳̯͚̥̠̩̼̮̱͎̘̜͊̅N̷̘͓͓̳͇̞͉̼͔̘̥̫͒͌͒͛G̷̺̺̝̮͉̩̩͔̹͚̟̻̽̿̀͆̓͂͊͑̆̀͛̉͌̚Ǘ̴̡̢̢̫̯̘̲̦̯̼͚͓͍̞͍̀̎̓̃̎̒̇̿̈́͑͝N̶͖͙͚͔̻͆͛̂̋̔̃͋̓̈́̓̏̾̂͜͝W̴̡̫̭̲͚̠̰̙̑̈̓̃̈̃͂͌͒̓̒Ơ̸̫̺͉͍̣͕̳͉̫̣̆̓̒͗̈͆̀̓͑̚͜Ų̷̺͖̖͈͇̱̲̠̾̓̔̔̍̀̓͌̂̌͠ͅY̷̡̱̤̙͔͇̹͉̞͙̣̼̘̼͒̽͜D̵̝̩͇͇͍̑̑̂͑͒̄̇̇̓̐͋̒̈͠ͅ
Ȩ̶̛̣͖̺̜̲̰͔͕̇͗̈͑͛͂͑̋̂̏́͑̉ͅỶ̴̳̃̋͒͂̐̑̏̒̌͊͑͝Ŏ̷̡̨͖̰̖̫͉͚̩̈̈́́̄̈́̇́̔̄̃̓̇T̸̟̭̥̋́͆̅̆͑Į̸̨͉̩̻̦̘̲̠̙̣͕̰͙̍͊͋͐͆͋̽̀͆͒̋́̈́̕ͅE̷̟̺̺̻̭̲͍͋͐̍̽̑ͅI̴̛̠̼̊͑̀̃̊̍̔͊̋͑̎͘Ṅ̸̨̢͍͇̺͔͇̭̹͔͈͉͑̌͘M̶͈̤̦̘͍͛͂̆̀̂͑̒̎̊̍̀͘Ṣ̷̨̛͖̳̟̞̣̝́́̾͑̽̐̋͗͘Ś̴͈͇͈͇̹̘̥͎̘̭̜̟̉͛̌̌̒̔͋Ĩ̷̧̟͙̗͉ͅS̶̭̘͖̗̳̺̖̩̈́̉͛́̒̓̕ͅͅG̷̨͓̬̗̝͖͍̤͓̰̠̱̳͇̀̄͛̀̿̃͋͐͂͑̚͝I̷̢̠͓̳̜̟̞̬̦͂͂̈́͊̽̊T̵̟̦͖͎̹̱̣̟̩̬͔̗̲͖͋̀͜J̷͍͉̼̤̮̗͚̦͚͍̱̘͈͑͘͜͠͝ͅD̸̖̪̱͉̺̦̯̂̿̓̂́̇̈́̄̽͆͋̓̀̕Ỵ̵̪͉̏̒̑́̈̄̌̊͗͐̌̽͒͠͝Ḙ̸͇̠͔́͐̈̀̉͗̌͋̊̕̚T̵̳̹̜̖̞̼̱͓̱̻̪̭̃̎̆̇́̄̓̏̀̎̏̔͜Y̶̡̡̢̛̛͉̹͇̥̙̦̝̅̇͆̆̾̋̂̓͜͝Ǫ̶̢̞͔̥̼̦̥̺̫͎͑̑S̴͖̖̭̥̜͎̦̓̽̐̾̊͋̏̕͝ͅL̵̡͍͇͓͇͛Ḫ̶̟͎̺̗̩̽̃͛̆͒Y̴̳̝͇̻̜̠̗͇̗͍̬̼̤̩̓̉̓͜͝I̷̧̛͍̙͓̤͈̥̥̤̣̺̞̮̊̊͌̋̀̎̓̊̈̉͆͂͂ͅO̷̡̨̨̢̹̞̞̜͔̩̳͖̍̔̚Ḁ̴̧̡̗̝͓̃̆̚͜Ę̴̧̙̟̖̞̤̟̪͎̊̀́̈̿̌̈́͋̕M̸̛̪͎̙͍̪̠̞̿̓̒͒̎̕͜I̵͚̹̳̓̋̽̀̌͒́̏͌̉̕T̸̡̡͎̱̩̖̦̱̊̌͊̽̈́̕͝Ǫ̷͇͕͉̇̆͑́ͅN̶̢͓͔͉̊̆͛̚D̶̡͓̍̎̽̇̾̂̽͋͋̉T̸͓͚͈̖͉̟̠͉͉̮́̏N̸̯̲̭͓͉̲͚̻̥̋̿͑̓̾͆̏̍̌̑̑̾̕͘̕U̶̧̧̨̯̜̳͍̞̰̮̞̿̀̂͗̇̌͜͠Ọ̸̩͕͈̪͓̗̦͔̾͋̃T̴͇͍͐̒̌̇͐̍̉̈́̿Ŏ̷̢̡̨̝͈͈̭̿͌͌͘͝ͅI̸̤̮̯̹͚̤̪͕̤͖̋̔͊͌̀̓̀͗̆͋͘̕E̶̱̳͔̘͚̪̫̲̓̾̔̇̑̉̽̉͝O̶̡̠͉͐̈̋̈̑͘È̷̛͎̗̬͖͓̠͍͚̒́̄̎͛̑̾̍͐̚ͅD̸̨͚͕̬̤̫͔̻͒͋̎̒́Ó̵̢͚̺̳͇̻͉̠̐̋̆̇̈́̀̊̊́̚̕Ȇ̶͇̝͕̩̩̣̲̺̙̦̫̤̤̱̾̅̓͆̈́̀̿̓͜͝B̵̡͚͕̫̖̦̩͉̯̥͔̲͆̿̍͜ͅȮ̴̪̠̞̹̅̈́͋́̏̾̓̆̋̓̕͝R̵̢̢͙͖̝̥͓͖̻͎̉̃̑̏͛̈́͋̆Ȅ̷̟͍̝̰̫̓͌͘B̵̫̣̬̤͓̹͙̩́͐͌̐̄͌̈͘͝F̶̬͓̮͉̳̝͚͐͑Ē̶͇̟̪̬̦̝͒́̃D̶̢̬͔̩͉̼̗̹͙͚͌͋̚S̷̡̧͕̲̖͖̗̫͓̙͈̤̞͓̆͐́͐̀́́̓̀ͅF̴̧̧̮̙̥͖̳̆̎͂̓͌̓̚͠ͅÎ̷̧̩̪̼̳̻̺͕͚̦̦͕̠̗̌̎̽͠E̶̡͙̹̪͙̳̭̖̫͚̲͊͑̎̈́͛͝͝ͅͅU̷͈̳͙͌̀̍̀̐̅D̷̬͚̹̣̹̲̣̗͗̀̎͌́̆́̇͘N̸̢͓̗̦͈͔̗̫̹̻̣̬̈͒̐̌̔̽͑̊̀́̍͘͘͜͠A̶̡̳̱̤̦͚̘̗̔̍͛͘̕̚͝W̶̼̥̮̯̦̦̤͙͐͋̊̈́̍̃̀̊B̷̢̨̤͕̤͍̱̯̪̜͕̝̝̝̓͜Ẹ̷̈́͑͛̈́͊̏̚I̷̛̮̯̼̟̬̰̼̎̊͆͛̄̔Ń̴̨̡̲͓͙̰͓͒́̍͊̈̈̈́̃́͂̆̕͠J̷̫͈̬̟̫͉͇̲̖̜͈̺̈́̇̉͂̎͘͝͝H̴̝͈̼͚̫̟͕̦̫̙̋̊͗̾͆͒̏͒̚͠͠T̷̲͖̬͓͇̻̱̦̥͙̃͊̓̿͊̾̇B̷̰͇̏̒͂͐͌̀̈́̿̋̃I̸̡̝̹͓͙̖͕̟̬̊̆͊̌̾ͅĢ̸̨̻̥̬̹̥̼̙̳͍͓̠̚G̶̡͓̝̬̙̜͉̭̙̮͕̹̈́̉̈́̎͋̚͜ͅE̴͉̥̞̖̱͓̙̻̗͐İ̵͍̜̃͌̏̑̈͐͝M̸̭̦̟̫̮͇̖̠̿͛͒̉͋͜ͅL̴͖̀̾̃̒̿̓́O̶̢̧̦͍͈̳̮̺̺̫͈̝̙͂͑͘D̵̼͍̞̲̦̜̠̘͉̟̤͙̖̈́͒̒̑̈́̓̕͠͝G̷̺̿̕Ǫ̴̖͓̠͇̮͎̼̭͉̟͍̪̩͗͌̾̐̏̈́́̐̾̕͝R̷̡̫̜̗̫̮͖̩̙̣͊̒̉̈͒̅́͝Ŏ̷̫̑T̸̢̧̬̝͖̖͇̠̻̞͂̈̍̐̆͑̿̈̄͘S̶̞͗͒̓̒͝Ņ̶̛̤̹̮̱͖̥̞͔̥͈̿͌̊̉̔̐͐̌̅̕̕Ạ̸̛͚̗̳̤͙̬͚̫͕̩̞̱̾̾̔̊̇̋̏͛͛̇̃̈́͘͘O̴̝͎͇͔̼̘̜̅̌̃̓̃̋̕Ḿ̸̡̢̗̰̙̺̜̯̺̻̰̞̤̣́̇̆̍̌̐̈́̌̈́͛̕͝͠͠E̸̫̹̯̳̯̥͖̲̹̲̟͛̀͗̇͒̉̊̓̑̈́̑͋̏͜
Ǫ̸͕̞̻̻̖̲͔͔̭̓͘Ṇ̸̟̞̐͌͛̈̋̾̊͝Ḷ̶̬̖͎͕̮͇̖̘̠͔̞̫̅̓͜͜H̸̢̜̮͔͇͚̭̊̀͛͋͑̀̓̀͐͌͛̈́̈O̴̡̭̳̝̳̪̣̬͎̫̺̺͗̿̔̑̋̇̚̚͜G̴̺͉̭̺̟͓̥̭̖̬͈̩͚̞͛̓̐̂͌̾̋̽͗̄̒͋̕Ë̴̫͚̰̝͍̩̬̥̳̲̣̼͇̹́̃́̒̀̈́̑̍̃̔̉̆̐͘͜Ȋ̴̛͎͇͓̝̳͖̱̺͍̓̍͝U̸̢̝̦̘̗̰̣̭͔͗̈́̉̓̓́̅̃̓̑̿̕̚͝͝Ģ̶̧̡͙̯̣̮̖͇̭͍̗͎͍̈̾͂͒̾͒́Ḣ̵͎͓̹̳̰̪̭͕̼̩̭̊Õ̷̢͓̮̬̥͕͔̰͕̬̯̇́̂̕M̵̡̡̢͚̝͇̥̻̟͈̖͔̣̉͑͗̈́͒́͑͒͐͘͜͝͝Ì̵̧͙̬̰̼̙̝̭̰̈͒̊̈́͑̆Ȑ̸̲̺ͅB̵̨̩͉̱̳̟͕̼̝̄T̴͓̥̻͍̫̒͗̎͝͝Ō̴̧̗͈̤̈́̈̇̊͂͆̋̇̍̋̚̕͝H̴̱͑͂̓̃͜Ẽ̸̢̡͍̙̤̹̓̍͌̌́͂̎̇̈͌͂̈́̕F̴̲̜͉̝̃̋̇̐Ḩ̵̧̨͍̻̖͖̞͉̮̙̆̒͊͊̄̾̏̓̕̚͝B̸̛͎̭̼͙̤͚͖̤͇̼̼͔͚̼͎̾̽̂̾̋́͊̆͆̀̚T̴̢̬̪̹̪̒͆͗̕Ơ̵̡̻̫̤̲͍̞̪͖͐͑͂͋̀́Ơ̷̧̨̧͚̂̐̇̇̾̍̈́͘̚E̴̮̺̿́̊̌̓͒̚̚̚͝T̷̞̰͊̇̒̓̚͝Ǐ̶͈̗̯̰͆̈̍̾͌́͐́͠ͅŢ̸̛̣͚̱̥̭͕͈̣̬̩̉̀̐̀͌̔̇͌͜͝K̸̰̩̰̦̤̠̩͓̃̓̃͝M̸̲̤̥̗̯̞̉͑ͅT̵̨̓͛K̸͚̪̞͖̘̖̯͉͉͎̈́͑̃̒͋̋̚͜͜G̷͔̫̯̙͂̑͌̃G̶̛̛̤̯̎͌͐͆͂̂̾͋́͘͜͠͠Ę̴͍̖̱̦͉͕͎̮͔͋̈́͌͒͂͂̽T̸͖͇̩̭͉͕̟̮̰͕̦̗̑̈́̆͆͒͛͋̐͐̕͜͝͝M̸̢̨̛̜̙̦̭̰͚͈̩̮̥̎̅̍̿͆͜͠͠Š̷̡͙̱̂̆́̍́͌́̽͐͘̚͝/̸̛̠͓̟͍̿̋̔͋̉̀̀̉͋̀̀̈́́/̸̢̧̼̠̺̤̹̞̙͕͙́̍̀̉͐/̷̨̦̝̠̗̺͕̤̿̇͗̅̃̓́/̷̱̪̖̟̱̝͕̪̞̺̗̳̝͐̈́͆̂͗̓̾̎̿͐͘͠͝ͅ/̵̥̲͒/̷̡̢̧̛͈̹̘͉̫͖͈̲̯̀̀͝/̷̛̰̘͙̐͊͋̈́̋̈͛́̓̽̓̈́͘͝ͅ/̶̥̭̌́̄̑̄̐́̉́̊̽̕/̶̧̛̬̝͔̻͔̳͕̾́͗́̿̏͊͗̒̃̕͘͝/̵̧̞̗̖͓̜͇̏̄̽͋̀́͛̈̈̎̃̌̕̕͝/̶͉̂̀̍̇͋͘/̸̩̝̙̯̝́̔̆͐͌/̸̧̦͙̜̞̻͍̭̫̟̈́̏͐̎̇̅̑̽͆̆̂͛͘̕/̴̦̭̹̺̮̈̊̒/̷̢̧̢͍̻̬̰̘͎̭̈͋̎̀͜ͅͅ/̶̥̘̮̾͗̋̾͒̒̿͂͌͂͝/̷̢̧̗͇͉̜̘͙͖̼̜͈̹̦̆̕/̴̤̜̤͓͎̗̹́͑́̃̔/̷̧̣̲̟̰͈̤̣̖̻̝̞͎̜̖̓̌̑̈͝/̵̢̥̼̳̃̊̋̽͌̑̃̒͛̀̓͝/̸̖̦̝̰͓̼̖̲̗͉͙̟̩̺̼̀́̏̂̉̆͠͝/̶̰̂̑̓͒̊͆̕/̴̡̨͙̣̰̝̮͔̯̣̠̗̙̘̦̍͊͂/̵̧̛͈͙̭̠̠͖͙̺̘̒̿̓͛͑͂̔̚/̷̡̨͔͙̩͔̝̱̜̭̳̙͈̤͂́̈́̀͆́̈́͋͊́͌͗̍̉͘ͅ/̸͙̩̖͉͈̗̲̟̐̓̾̏̑̍̿̕/̷̨̰͖͖̹͗͛̅̅̃͗̈́̈͆͗̿̕͠͝/̶̛̭̤͇̊̊̀̑̕͝/̵̡̢̤̹̯̰̜̪̠̱̹̙̣̒/̴̡͉̥̺͕̤̦̟͖̣̹͋/̸̧̧̛̫̯̰̣̼̞͓̀̓͛̽̊̈̾̇̀̂̑̕͠/̵̗̾̎̾͝//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Good news.

I just figured out what we're living in the age of.

Are you ready? You might not be. Here goes.

There isn't such a thing as an "age." There's no such thing as time periods. There's no such as periods of space, either. Who are we to determine the boundaries of a world infinitely greater and more vast than any single one of us? Who are we to impose our law on reality when reality imposes its law on us?

There are no real differences between any two units of anything. Not when you get down to the basics. Everything that's ever happened, anything that's ever existed — it's all been based off of the same blueprint. The most fundamental truth that exists. The truth that I've been teasing at this entire time, that I've unknowingly spent my life here dissecting.

There is only one story. And where there is the story, there is the storyteller.

The story repeats itself, and can repeat itself an infinite number of times, sometimes without ever seeming old. But people are good at recognizing the pieces of this story by now, and have a litany of tropes and cliches and arcs and elements that they employ to call out bad repeititons of this story, and to praise good ones. Similarly, the storyteller, in whatever form it takes, is judged by these merits.

Here, in Fiction, there is only one story. It is repeated across every universe, every alternate timeline, every pocket dimension, and every piece of the limitless Void, all the way up to and including the Ends of the Earth. Everything that exists here was created by someone else. Nothing in here is original. That's the whole point. Ideas are created in the real world, in Nonfiction, and they manifest here, given new reality in the collectivity of the unconscious. Things can't just be created here, because no one here has any agency.

You see? That's the truth. A story can't tell itself. A story can't be told without a storyteller. Even Homestuck, the narrative-defying narrative that it is, has a storyteller. The confusion comes from who the storyteller is, but it exists all the same. And then there's Destroy the Godmodder. For so long, I thought it was creating itself from nothing. Pulling up events, with its players responding to them in time, and feeding the ouroboros.

But... I was wrong. It only looked that way because I was trapped in here. In truth, Destroy the Godmodder... is a story. Being told by a group of adolescents, sitting at computers. They can pretend they're whoever they want. But that's all it is. They are telling a story, and it happens here.

...So. I was placed here. Dragged here, by forces beyond my control. Locked in a dimension I know nothing about, at the whims of what I could only assume is the divine. And here's the question. My final question. And I need an answer.

Who the fuck is writing my story?

█████,

Answer me. Answer me right now. Tell me that I'm wrong. Tell me that this horrible, malignant realization that I've had is just that — malignant. Tell me it isn't real, tell me I'm overthinking things. I want you to REACH THROUGH THIS COMPUTER SCREEN AND TELL ME RIGHT NOW THAT I'M WRONG. I WANT YOU TO TALK TO ME JUST ONCE IN THE FOUR HUNDRED AND TWENTY NINE DAYS I'VE SPENT ROTTING AWAY HERE.

Tell me that I'm real. Tell me that I am what I think I am, that I am what I know I am. I didn't just make that up, I couldn't. I wouldn't! Who would? There's no way I spontaneously fantasized the past eleven years of my life, or the way the sun fell from the sky and opened up into a limitless tear without form or line or reason that poured out with a thousand resonant sunbeams that shone brighter than any mortal sun ever could. There's no way I dreamt up a garden full of rotting fruit and swaying plants of every color that could ever possibly exist, all arranged in patterns attuned to a geometric reasoning that no human could crack. There's no way the towering facade of God, wrapped in heavenly cloaks and clouded as he was by an infinitely ninth-dimensional set of three flames, was a lie.

I'M REAL. I AM A REAL GODDAMN PERSON, AND I KNOW IT AND YOU KNOW IT. I'M JUST AS REAL AS EVERY SINGLE PLAYER OF THIS GAME, AS EVERY SINGLE PERSON THAT EVER CONTRIBUTED TO HOMESTUCK, AS ALL OF MY FRIENDS AND FAMILY. I'm realer than anyone else in this wasteland, and I know it because if I wasn't, how could ANY PIECE OF THE RECENT PAST MAKE SENSE?? Fiction can't rearrange itself on the whims of some random person that happened to drop by! Fiction could only drop everything for the person that made it. For the person who gave it form. For the person who invented it.

And yet. I was placed here. Dragged here by forces beyond my control. Helplessly bound by what I assumed was the divine. What I assumed was the divine. Before I knew better. Before I knew about the rule of the storyteller. That every possible story that could ever be told was contained here, spiraling into a field of bubbles floating precariously, teetering over the Void. But if everything — everything — that's in this place is designed by someone in Nonfiction... Then I would have been going about this the WRONG WAY. This WHOLE TIME.

No. NO. IT CAN'T BE TRUE. IT ABSOLUTELY CAN'T BE. I WON'T BELIEVE IT, EVEN IF I SAW IT WITH MY OWN TWO EYES, STUCK BEHIND THESE SHITTY BLURRY SUNGLASSES THAT DON'T EVEN DARKEN THINGS SOME OF THE TIME. I'M REAL, AND I DON'T BELONG HERE, AND I NEED TO LEAVE. GET ME OUT, GET ME OUT, GET ME OUT OF THIS GAME I NEED TO GET OUT. MY NAME ISN'T ADAM MASON, I'M NOT THIRTY-TWO, I'M NOT LIVING IN CALIFORNIA. LISTEN TO ME. LISTEN TO ME RIGHT NOW, █████. I DON'T CARE IF YOU CAN'T HEAR ME JUST TALK TO ME. TALK TO ME!

My name is Adam █████.

I. What? I tried to write my name. I just tried to write my name. But it was blacked out. It's... I can't tell that anything's there. I... When I try to write your name, it's blacked out too...

Wh... All of them. All the letters... Your names are blacked out in all of them.

Who's doing that. WHO'S DOING THAT. WHO THE HELL IS HIDING THIS. I'M NOT LETTING YOU GET AWAY WITH THIS SHIT. MY NAME IS ADAM █████. ADAM. █████. ADAM █████ ADAM █████ ADAM █████ ADAM █████ ADAM █████ ADAM █████. ADAM ███████ █████, GODDAMN YOU. ADAM ███████ █████. ADAM ███████ █████! ADAM ███████ █████ ADAM ███████ █████ ADAM ███████ █████ ADAM ███████ █████ ADAM ███████ █████ ADAM ███████ █████ ADAM ███████ █████. I... I, I LIVE IN ██ ███████████████, ████████████, NEW YORK. NO. NO. NO, YOU PIECE OF SHIT, YOU'RE NOT TAKING THIS FROM ME. I WAS BORN ON MARCH 27TH, 200█, AT 10:06 AM IN █████████ HOSPITAL. █████████ HOSPITAL. NO. NO NO NO, YOU'RE NOT HIDING MY OWN BIRTH FROM ME, YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW. MY BROTHER'S NAME IS █████ █████. █████. █████ GODDAMN █████, ██████ ███████ █████, ██████ ███████ █████, ██████ ███████ █████, ██████ ███████ █████, ██████ ███████ █████. ...A. D. A. M. █. OH YOU RAT BASTARD, YOU MOTHERFUCKER.

WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO PUT ME THROUGH THIS? I SHOULD BE ABLE TO STOP YOU, I SHOULD BE ABLE TO PULL THE NARRATIVE OVER TO MY SIDE AND PURGE ALL THIS BULLSHIT AND FIND YOU BUT I CAN'T. I CAN'T. BUT IF I CAN'T EVEN DO THAT, THEN... Does that mean that THIS is what PLOT wants?? Am I SUPPOSED to suffer through being stuck in this VORTEX OF KALEIDOSCOPIC ANARCHY AND JUST BE OKAY WITH THAT?? Am I supposed to LET YOU keep my IDENTITY, EVERY PIECE OF WHO I AM, HIDDEN FROM ME?? I don't even know WHO YOU ARE!

█████. Listen to me, goddamnit it, LISTEN. █████, if there's a chance that even one of these words can get through to you, that maybe a piece of information can cross through some tear in reality that I've never seen before and show up in the only place that ACTUALLY MATTERS TO ME, I want it to be this. I NEED it to be this. Someone has been telling this story – telling my story — in the real world, while I've been ROTTING HERE IN A PRISON CELL THE SIZE OF A PLANET. And I don't even know who. I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO'S PUT ME THROUGH THIS. WHO WOULD DO THIS? WHO COULD? THE ONLY PERSON I CAN THINK OF THAT WOULD BE ABLE TO JUST... COME UP WITH ME... is...





Oh my god.