Into The Caldron

It is a burning, seething cauldron, filled with dramatic light and color.
— Georgia Oโ€™Keeffe

Emojis Are The New Linga Franca

๐Ÿ˜€๐Ÿ˜ƒ๐Ÿ˜„๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜†๐Ÿ˜…๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿคฃโ˜บ๏ธ๐Ÿ˜‡๐Ÿ™‚๐Ÿ™ƒ๐Ÿ˜‰๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜˜๐Ÿ˜—๐Ÿ˜™๐Ÿ˜‹๐Ÿ˜›๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜œ๐Ÿคช๐Ÿคจ๐Ÿง๐Ÿค“๐Ÿ˜Ž๐Ÿคฉ๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜’๐Ÿ˜ž๐Ÿ˜”๐Ÿ˜Ÿ๐Ÿ˜•๐Ÿ™โ˜น๏ธ๐Ÿ˜ฃ๐Ÿ˜–๐Ÿ˜ซ๐Ÿ˜ฉ๐Ÿ˜ข๐Ÿ˜ญ๐Ÿ˜ค๐Ÿ˜ ๐Ÿ˜ก๐Ÿคฌ๐Ÿคฏ๐Ÿ˜ณ๐Ÿ˜ฑ๐Ÿ˜จ๐Ÿ˜ฐ๐Ÿ˜ฅ๐Ÿ˜“๐Ÿค—๐Ÿค”๐Ÿคญ๐Ÿคซ๐Ÿคฅ๐Ÿ˜ถ๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜‘๐Ÿ˜ฌ๐Ÿ™„๐Ÿ˜ฏ๐Ÿ˜ฆ๐Ÿ˜ง๐Ÿ˜ฎ๐Ÿ˜ฒ๐Ÿ˜ด๐Ÿคค๐Ÿ˜ช๐Ÿ˜ต๐Ÿค๐Ÿคข๐Ÿคฎ๐Ÿคง๐Ÿ˜ท๐Ÿค’๐Ÿค•๐Ÿค‘๐Ÿค ๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ‘ฟ๐Ÿ‘น๐Ÿ‘บ๐Ÿคก๐Ÿ’ฉ๐Ÿ‘ป๐Ÿ’€โ˜ ๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฝ๐Ÿ‘พ๐Ÿค–๐ŸŽƒ๐Ÿ˜บ๐Ÿ˜ธ๐Ÿ˜น๐Ÿ˜ป๐Ÿ˜ผ๐Ÿ˜ฝ๐Ÿ™€๐Ÿ˜ฟ๐Ÿ˜พ๐Ÿคฒ๐Ÿคฒ๐Ÿป๐Ÿคฒ๐Ÿผ๐Ÿคฒ๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿพ๐Ÿคฒ๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿป๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ™Œ๐Ÿ™Œ๐Ÿป๐Ÿ™Œ๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ™Œ๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ™Œ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ™Œ๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿป๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿค๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿป๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ‘Ž๐Ÿ‘Ž๐Ÿป๐Ÿ‘Ž๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ‘Ž๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ‘Ž๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ‘Ž๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ‘Š๐Ÿ‘Š๐Ÿป๐Ÿ‘Š๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ‘Š๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ‘Š๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ‘Š๐ŸฟโœŠโœŠ๐ŸปโœŠ๐ŸผโœŠ๐ŸฝโœŠ๐ŸพโœŠ๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿค›๐Ÿค›๐Ÿป๐Ÿค›๐Ÿผ๐Ÿค›๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿค›๐Ÿพ๐Ÿค›๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿคœ๐Ÿคœ๐Ÿป๐Ÿคœ๐Ÿผ๐Ÿคœ๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿคœ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿคœ๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿคž๐Ÿคž๐Ÿป๐Ÿคž๐Ÿผ๐Ÿคž๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿคž๐Ÿพ๐Ÿคž๐ŸฟโœŒ๏ธโœŒ๐ŸปโœŒ๐ŸผโœŒ๐ŸฝโœŒ๐ŸพโœŒ๐Ÿฟ๐ŸคŸ๐ŸคŸ๐Ÿป๐ŸคŸ๐Ÿผ๐ŸคŸ๐Ÿฝ๐ŸคŸ๐Ÿพ๐ŸคŸ๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿค˜๐Ÿค˜๐Ÿป๐Ÿค˜๐Ÿผ๐Ÿค˜๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿค˜๐Ÿพ๐Ÿค˜๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ‘Œ๐Ÿ‘Œ๐Ÿป๐Ÿ‘Œ๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ‘Œ๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ‘Œ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ‘Œ๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ‘ˆ๐Ÿ‘ˆ๐Ÿป๐Ÿ‘ˆ๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ‘ˆ๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ‘ˆ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ‘ˆ๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ‘‰๐Ÿ‘‰๐Ÿป๐Ÿ‘‰๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ‘‰๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ‘‰๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ‘‰๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ‘†๐Ÿ‘†๐Ÿป๐Ÿ‘†๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ‘†๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ‘†๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ‘†๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ‘‡๐Ÿ‘‡๐Ÿป๐Ÿ‘‡๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ‘‡๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ‘‡๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ‘‡๐Ÿฟโ˜๏ธโ˜๐Ÿปโ˜๐Ÿผโ˜๐Ÿฝโ˜๐Ÿพโ˜๐Ÿฟโœ‹โœ‹๐Ÿปโœ‹๐Ÿผโœ‹๐Ÿฝโœ‹๐Ÿพโœ‹๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿคš๐Ÿคš๐Ÿป๐Ÿคš๐Ÿผ๐Ÿคš๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿคš๐Ÿพ๐Ÿคš๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ–๐Ÿ–๐Ÿป๐Ÿ–๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ–๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ–๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ–๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ––๐Ÿ––๐Ÿป๐Ÿ––๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ––๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ––๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ––๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ‘‹๐Ÿ‘‹๐Ÿป๐Ÿ‘‹๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ‘‹๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ‘‹๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ‘‹๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿค™๐Ÿค™๐Ÿป๐Ÿค™๐Ÿผ๐Ÿค™๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿค™๐Ÿพ๐Ÿค™๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ’ช๐Ÿ’ช๐Ÿป๐Ÿ’ช๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ’ช๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ’ช๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ’ช๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ–•๐Ÿ–•๐Ÿป๐Ÿ–•๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ–•๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ–•๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ–•๐Ÿฟโœ๏ธโœ๐Ÿปโœ๐Ÿผโœ๐Ÿฝโœ๐Ÿพโœ๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿ™๐Ÿป๐Ÿ™๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ’๐Ÿ’„๐Ÿ’‹๐Ÿ‘„๐Ÿ‘…๐Ÿ‘‚๐Ÿ‘‚๐Ÿป๐Ÿ‘‚๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ‘‚๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ‘‚๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ‘‚๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ‘ƒ๐Ÿ‘ƒ๐Ÿป๐Ÿ‘ƒ๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ‘ƒ๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ‘ƒ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ‘ƒ๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ‘ฃ๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿ‘€๐Ÿง ๐Ÿ—ฃ๐Ÿ‘ค๐Ÿ‘ฅ๐Ÿ‘ถ๐Ÿ‘ถ๐Ÿป๐Ÿ‘ถ๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ‘ถ๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ‘ถ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ‘ถ๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ‘ง๐Ÿ‘ง๐Ÿป๐Ÿ‘ง๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ‘ง๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ‘ง๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ‘ง๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿง’๐Ÿง’๐Ÿป๐Ÿง’๐Ÿผ๐Ÿง’๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿง’๐Ÿพ๐Ÿง’๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ‘ฆ๐Ÿ‘ฆ๐Ÿป๐Ÿ‘ฆ๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ‘ฆ๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ‘ฆ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ‘ฆ๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿป๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿง‘๐Ÿง‘๐Ÿป๐Ÿง‘๐Ÿผ๐Ÿง‘๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿง‘๐Ÿพ๐Ÿง‘๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿป๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ‘ฑโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฑ๐Ÿปโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฑ๐Ÿผโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฑ๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฑ๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฑ๐Ÿฟโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฑโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฑ๐Ÿปโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฑ๐Ÿผโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฑ๐Ÿฝโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฑ๐Ÿพโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฑ๐Ÿฟโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿง”๐Ÿง”๐Ÿป๐Ÿง”๐Ÿผ๐Ÿง”๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿง”๐Ÿพ๐Ÿง”๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ‘ต๐Ÿ‘ต๐Ÿป๐Ÿ‘ต๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ‘ต๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ‘ต๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ‘ต๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿง“๐Ÿง“๐Ÿป๐Ÿง“๐Ÿผ๐Ÿง“๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿง“๐Ÿพ๐Ÿง“๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ‘ด๐Ÿ‘ด๐Ÿป๐Ÿ‘ด๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ‘ด๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ‘ด๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ‘ด๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ‘ฒ๐Ÿ‘ฒ๐Ÿป๐Ÿ‘ฒ๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ‘ฒ๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ‘ฒ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ‘ฒ๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ‘ณโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ณ๐Ÿปโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ณ๐Ÿผโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ณ๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ณ๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ณ๐Ÿฟโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ณโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ณ๐Ÿปโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ณ๐Ÿผโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ณ๐Ÿฝโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ณ๐Ÿพโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ณ๐Ÿฟโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿง•๐Ÿง•๐Ÿป๐Ÿง•๐Ÿผ๐Ÿง•๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿง•๐Ÿพ๐Ÿง•๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ‘ฎโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฎ๐Ÿปโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฎ๐Ÿผโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฎ๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฎ๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฎ๐Ÿฟโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฎโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฎ๐Ÿปโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฎ๐Ÿผโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฎ๐Ÿฝโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฎ๐Ÿพโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฎ๐Ÿฟโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ทโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ท๐Ÿปโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ท๐Ÿผโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ท๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ท๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ท๐Ÿฟโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ทโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ท๐Ÿปโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ท๐Ÿผโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ท๐Ÿฝโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ท๐Ÿพโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ท๐Ÿฟโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ’‚โ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ’‚๐Ÿปโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ’‚๐Ÿผโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ’‚๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ’‚๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ’‚๐Ÿฟโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ’‚โ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ’‚๐Ÿปโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ’‚๐Ÿผโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ’‚๐Ÿฝโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ’‚๐Ÿพโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ’‚๐Ÿฟโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ•ต๏ธโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ•ต๐Ÿปโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ•ต๐Ÿผโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ•ต๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ•ต๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ•ต๐Ÿฟโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ•ต๏ธโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ•ต๐Ÿปโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ•ต๐Ÿผโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ•ต๐Ÿฝโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ•ต๐Ÿพโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ•ต๐Ÿฟโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€โš•๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿปโ€โš•๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿผโ€โš•๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฝโ€โš•๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿพโ€โš•๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฟโ€โš•๏ธ๐Ÿ‘จโ€โš•๏ธ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿปโ€โš•๏ธ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿผโ€โš•๏ธ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฝโ€โš•๏ธ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿพโ€โš•๏ธ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฟโ€โš•๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐ŸŒพ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿปโ€๐ŸŒพ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿผโ€๐ŸŒพ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฝโ€๐ŸŒพ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿพโ€๐ŸŒพ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฟโ€๐ŸŒพ๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐ŸŒพ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿปโ€๐ŸŒพ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿผโ€๐ŸŒพ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฝโ€๐ŸŒพ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿพโ€๐ŸŒพ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฟโ€๐ŸŒพ๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿณ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿปโ€๐Ÿณ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿผโ€๐Ÿณ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฝโ€๐Ÿณ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿพโ€๐Ÿณ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฟโ€๐Ÿณ๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿณ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿปโ€๐Ÿณ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿผโ€๐Ÿณ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฝโ€๐Ÿณ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿพโ€๐Ÿณ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฟโ€๐Ÿณ๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐ŸŽ“๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿปโ€๐ŸŽ“๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿผโ€๐ŸŽ“๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฝโ€๐ŸŽ“๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿพโ€๐ŸŽ“๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฟโ€๐ŸŽ“๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐ŸŽ“๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿปโ€๐ŸŽ“๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿผโ€๐ŸŽ“๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฝโ€๐ŸŽ“๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿพโ€๐ŸŽ“๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฟโ€๐ŸŽ“๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐ŸŽค๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿปโ€๐ŸŽค๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿผโ€๐ŸŽค๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฝโ€๐ŸŽค๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿพโ€๐ŸŽค๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฟโ€๐ŸŽค๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐ŸŽค๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿปโ€๐ŸŽค๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿผโ€๐ŸŽค๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฝโ€๐ŸŽค๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿพโ€๐ŸŽค๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฟโ€๐ŸŽค๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿซ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿปโ€๐Ÿซ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿผโ€๐Ÿซ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฝโ€๐Ÿซ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿพโ€๐Ÿซ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฟโ€๐Ÿซ๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿซ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿปโ€๐Ÿซ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿผโ€๐Ÿซ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฝโ€๐Ÿซ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿพโ€๐Ÿซ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฟโ€๐Ÿซ๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿญ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿปโ€๐Ÿญ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿผโ€๐Ÿญ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฝโ€๐Ÿญ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿพโ€๐Ÿญ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฟโ€๐Ÿญ๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿญ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿปโ€๐Ÿญ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿผโ€๐Ÿญ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฝโ€๐Ÿญ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿพโ€๐Ÿญ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฟโ€๐Ÿญ๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿ’ป๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿปโ€๐Ÿ’ป๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿผโ€๐Ÿ’ป๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฝโ€๐Ÿ’ป๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿพโ€๐Ÿ’ป๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฟโ€๐Ÿ’ป๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿ’ป๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿปโ€๐Ÿ’ป๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿผโ€๐Ÿ’ป๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฝโ€๐Ÿ’ป๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿพโ€๐Ÿ’ป๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฟโ€๐Ÿ’ป๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿ’ผ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿปโ€๐Ÿ’ผ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿผโ€๐Ÿ’ผ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฝโ€๐Ÿ’ผ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿพโ€๐Ÿ’ผ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฟโ€๐Ÿ’ผ๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿ’ผ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿปโ€๐Ÿ’ผ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿผโ€๐Ÿ’ผ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฝโ€๐Ÿ’ผ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿพโ€๐Ÿ’ผ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฟโ€๐Ÿ’ผ๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿ”ง๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿปโ€๐Ÿ”ง๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿผโ€๐Ÿ”ง๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฝโ€๐Ÿ”ง๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿพโ€๐Ÿ”ง๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฟโ€๐Ÿ”ง๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿ”ง๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿปโ€๐Ÿ”ง๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿผโ€๐Ÿ”ง๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฝโ€๐Ÿ”ง๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿพโ€๐Ÿ”ง๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฟโ€๐Ÿ”ง๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿ”ฌ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿปโ€๐Ÿ”ฌ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿผโ€๐Ÿ”ฌ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฝโ€๐Ÿ”ฌ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿพโ€๐Ÿ”ฌ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฟโ€๐Ÿ”ฌ๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿ”ฌ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿปโ€๐Ÿ”ฌ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿผโ€๐Ÿ”ฌ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฝโ€๐Ÿ”ฌ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿพโ€๐Ÿ”ฌ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฟโ€๐Ÿ”ฌ๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐ŸŽจ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿปโ€๐ŸŽจ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿผโ€๐ŸŽจ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฝโ€๐ŸŽจ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿพโ€๐ŸŽจ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฟโ€๐ŸŽจ๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐ŸŽจ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿปโ€๐ŸŽจ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿผโ€๐ŸŽจ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฝโ€๐ŸŽจ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿพโ€๐ŸŽจ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฟโ€๐ŸŽจ๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿš’๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿปโ€๐Ÿš’๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿผโ€๐Ÿš’๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฝโ€๐Ÿš’๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿพโ€๐Ÿš’๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฟโ€๐Ÿš’๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿš’๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿปโ€๐Ÿš’๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿผโ€๐Ÿš’๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฝโ€๐Ÿš’๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿพโ€๐Ÿš’๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฟโ€๐Ÿš’๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€โœˆ๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿปโ€โœˆ๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿผโ€โœˆ๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฝโ€โœˆ๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿพโ€โœˆ๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฟโ€โœˆ๏ธ๐Ÿ‘จโ€โœˆ๏ธ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿปโ€โœˆ๏ธ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿผโ€โœˆ๏ธ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฝโ€โœˆ๏ธ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿพโ€โœˆ๏ธ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฟโ€โœˆ๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿš€๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿปโ€๐Ÿš€๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿผโ€๐Ÿš€๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฝโ€๐Ÿš€๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿพโ€๐Ÿš€๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฟโ€๐Ÿš€๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿš€๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿปโ€๐Ÿš€๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿผโ€๐Ÿš€๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฝโ€๐Ÿš€๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿพโ€๐Ÿš€๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฟโ€๐Ÿš€๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€โš–๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿปโ€โš–๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿผโ€โš–๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฝโ€โš–๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿพโ€โš–๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿฟโ€โš–๏ธ๐Ÿ‘จโ€โš–๏ธ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿปโ€โš–๏ธ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿผโ€โš–๏ธ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฝโ€โš–๏ธ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿพโ€โš–๏ธ๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿฟโ€โš–๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿป๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿคต๐Ÿคต๐Ÿป๐Ÿคต๐Ÿผ๐Ÿคต๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿคต๐Ÿพ๐Ÿคต๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ‘ธ๐Ÿ‘ธ๐Ÿป๐Ÿ‘ธ๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ‘ธ๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ‘ธ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ‘ธ๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿคด๐Ÿคด๐Ÿป๐Ÿคด๐Ÿผ๐Ÿคด๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿคด๐Ÿพ๐Ÿคด๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿคถ๐Ÿคถ๐Ÿป๐Ÿคถ๐Ÿผ๐Ÿคถ๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿคถ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿคถ๐Ÿฟ๐ŸŽ…๐ŸŽ…๐Ÿป๐ŸŽ…๐Ÿผ๐ŸŽ…๐Ÿฝ๐ŸŽ…๐Ÿพ๐ŸŽ…๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿง™โ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿง™๐Ÿปโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿง™๐Ÿผโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿง™๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿง™๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿง™๐Ÿฟโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿง™โ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿง™๐Ÿปโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿง™๐Ÿผโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿง™๐Ÿฝโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿง™๐Ÿพโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿง™๐Ÿฟโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿงโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿง๐Ÿปโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿง๐Ÿผโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿง๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿง๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿง๐Ÿฟโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿงโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿง๐Ÿปโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿง๐Ÿผโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿง๐Ÿฝโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿง๐Ÿพโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿง๐Ÿฟโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿง›โ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿง›๐Ÿปโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿง›๐Ÿผโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿง›๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿง›๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿง›๐Ÿฟโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿง›โ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿง›๐Ÿปโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿง›๐Ÿผโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿง›๐Ÿฝโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿง›๐Ÿพโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿง›๐Ÿฟโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐ŸงŸโ€โ™€๏ธ๐ŸงŸโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿงžโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿงžโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿงœโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿงœ๐Ÿปโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿงœ๐Ÿผโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿงœ๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿงœ๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿงœ๐Ÿฟโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿงœโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿงœ๐Ÿปโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿงœ๐Ÿผโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿงœ๐Ÿฝโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿงœ๐Ÿพโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿงœ๐Ÿฟโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿงšโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿงš๐Ÿปโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿงš๐Ÿผโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿงš๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿงš๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿงš๐Ÿฟโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿงšโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿงš๐Ÿปโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿงš๐Ÿผโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿงš๐Ÿฝโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿงš๐Ÿพโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿงš๐Ÿฟโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ผ๐Ÿ‘ผ๐Ÿป๐Ÿ‘ผ๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ‘ผ๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ‘ผ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ‘ผ๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿคฐ๐Ÿคฐ๐Ÿป๐Ÿคฐ๐Ÿผ๐Ÿคฐ๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿคฐ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿคฐ๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿคฑ๐Ÿคฑ๐Ÿป๐Ÿคฑ๐Ÿผ๐Ÿคฑ๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿคฑ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿคฑ๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ™‡โ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™‡๐Ÿปโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™‡๐Ÿผโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™‡๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™‡๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™‡๐Ÿฟโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™‡โ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™‡๐Ÿปโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™‡๐Ÿผโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™‡๐Ÿฝโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™‡๐Ÿพโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™‡๐Ÿฟโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ’โ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ’๐Ÿปโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ’๐Ÿผโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ’๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ’๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ’๐Ÿฟโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ’โ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ’๐Ÿปโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ’๐Ÿผโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ’๐Ÿฝโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ’๐Ÿพโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ’๐Ÿฟโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™…โ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™…๐Ÿปโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™…๐Ÿผโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™…๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™…๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™…๐Ÿฟโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™…โ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™…๐Ÿปโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™…๐Ÿผโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™…๐Ÿฝโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™…๐Ÿพโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™…๐Ÿฟโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™†โ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™†๐Ÿปโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™†๐Ÿผโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™†๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™†๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™†๐Ÿฟโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™†โ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™†๐Ÿปโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™†๐Ÿผโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™†๐Ÿฝโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™†๐Ÿพโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™†๐Ÿฟโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™‹โ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™‹๐Ÿปโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™‹๐Ÿผโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™‹๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™‹๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™‹๐Ÿฟโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™‹โ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™‹๐Ÿปโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™‹๐Ÿผโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™‹๐Ÿฝโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™‹๐Ÿพโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™‹๐Ÿฟโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿคฆโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿคฆ๐Ÿปโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿคฆ๐Ÿผโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿคฆ๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿคฆ๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿคฆ๐Ÿฟโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿคฆโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿคฆ๐Ÿปโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿคฆ๐Ÿผโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿคฆ๐Ÿฝโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿคฆ๐Ÿพโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿคฆ๐Ÿฟโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿคทโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿคท๐Ÿปโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿคท๐Ÿผโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿคท๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿคท๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿคท๐Ÿฟโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿคทโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿคท๐Ÿปโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿคท๐Ÿผโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿคท๐Ÿฝโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿคท๐Ÿพโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿคท๐Ÿฟโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™Žโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™Ž๐Ÿปโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™Ž๐Ÿผโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™Ž๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™Ž๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™Ž๐Ÿฟโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™Žโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™Ž๐Ÿปโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™Ž๐Ÿผโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™Ž๐Ÿฝโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™Ž๐Ÿพโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™Ž๐Ÿฟโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™โ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿปโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿผโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿฟโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™โ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿปโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿผโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿฝโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿพโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿฟโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ’‡โ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ’‡๐Ÿปโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ’‡๐Ÿผโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ’‡๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ’‡๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ’‡๐Ÿฟโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ’‡โ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ’‡๐Ÿปโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ’‡๐Ÿผโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ’‡๐Ÿฝโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ’‡๐Ÿพโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ’‡๐Ÿฟโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ’†โ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ’†๐Ÿปโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ’†๐Ÿผโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ’†๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ’†๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ’†๐Ÿฟโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ’†โ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ’†๐Ÿปโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ’†๐Ÿผโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ’†๐Ÿฝโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ’†๐Ÿพโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ’†๐Ÿฟโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿง–โ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿง–๐Ÿปโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿง–๐Ÿผโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿง–๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿง–๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿง–๐Ÿฟโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿง–โ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿง–๐Ÿปโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿง–๐Ÿผโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿง–๐Ÿฝโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿง–๐Ÿพโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿง–๐Ÿฟโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ’…๐Ÿ’…๐Ÿป๐Ÿ’…๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ’…๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ’…๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ’…๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿคณ๐Ÿคณ๐Ÿป๐Ÿคณ๐Ÿผ๐Ÿคณ๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿคณ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿคณ๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ’ƒ๐Ÿ’ƒ๐Ÿป๐Ÿ’ƒ๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ’ƒ๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ’ƒ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ’ƒ๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ•บ๐Ÿ•บ๐Ÿป๐Ÿ•บ๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ•บ๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ•บ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ•บ๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿ‘ฏโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฏโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ•ด๐Ÿ•ด๐Ÿป๐Ÿ•ด๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ•ด๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ•ด๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ•ด๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿšถโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿšถ๐Ÿปโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿšถ๐Ÿผโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿšถ๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿšถ๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿšถ๐Ÿฟโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿšถโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿšถ๐Ÿปโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿšถ๐Ÿผโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿšถ๐Ÿฝโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿšถ๐Ÿพโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿšถ๐Ÿฟโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿƒโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿƒ๐Ÿปโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿƒ๐Ÿผโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿƒ๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿƒ๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿƒ๐Ÿฟโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿƒโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿƒ๐Ÿปโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿƒ๐Ÿผโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿƒ๐Ÿฝโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿƒ๐Ÿพโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿƒ๐Ÿฟโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ซ๐Ÿ‘ญ๐Ÿ‘ฌ๐Ÿ’‘๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€โค๏ธโ€๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿ‘จโ€โค๏ธโ€๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿ’๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€โค๏ธโ€๐Ÿ’‹โ€๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿ‘จโ€โค๏ธโ€๐Ÿ’‹โ€๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿ‘ช๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿ‘ง๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿ‘งโ€๐Ÿ‘ฆ๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿ‘ฆโ€๐Ÿ‘ฆ๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿ‘งโ€๐Ÿ‘ง๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿ‘ฆ๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿ‘ง๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿ‘งโ€๐Ÿ‘ฆ๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿ‘ฆโ€๐Ÿ‘ฆ๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿ‘งโ€๐Ÿ‘ง๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿ‘ฆ๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿ‘ง๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿ‘งโ€๐Ÿ‘ฆ๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿ‘ฆโ€๐Ÿ‘ฆ๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿ‘งโ€๐Ÿ‘ง๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿ‘ฆ๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿ‘ง๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿ‘งโ€๐Ÿ‘ฆ๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿ‘ฆโ€๐Ÿ‘ฆ๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿ‘งโ€๐Ÿ‘ง๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿ‘ฆ๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿ‘ง๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿ‘งโ€๐Ÿ‘ฆ๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿ‘ฆโ€๐Ÿ‘ฆ๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿ‘งโ€๐Ÿ‘ง๐Ÿงฅ๐Ÿ‘š๐Ÿ‘•๐Ÿ‘–๐Ÿ‘”๐Ÿ‘—๐Ÿ‘™๐Ÿ‘˜๐Ÿ‘ ๐Ÿ‘ก๐Ÿ‘ข๐Ÿ‘ž๐Ÿ‘Ÿ๐Ÿงฆ๐Ÿงค๐Ÿงฃ๐ŸŽฉ๐Ÿงข๐Ÿ‘’๐ŸŽ“โ›‘๐Ÿ‘‘๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿ‘›๐Ÿ‘œ๐Ÿ’ผ๐ŸŽ’๐Ÿ‘“๐Ÿ•ถ๐ŸŒ‚๐Ÿถ๐Ÿฑ๐Ÿญ๐Ÿน๐Ÿฐ๐ŸฆŠ๐Ÿป๐Ÿผ๐Ÿจ๐Ÿฏ๐Ÿฆ๐Ÿฎ๐Ÿท๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿธ๐Ÿต๐Ÿ™ˆ๐Ÿ™‰๐Ÿ™Š๐Ÿ’๐Ÿ”๐Ÿง๐Ÿฆ๐Ÿค๐Ÿฃ๐Ÿฅ๐Ÿฆ†๐Ÿฆ…๐Ÿฆ‰๐Ÿฆ‡๐Ÿบ๐Ÿ—๐Ÿด๐Ÿฆ„๐Ÿ๐Ÿ›๐Ÿฆ‹๐ŸŒ๐Ÿš๐Ÿž๐Ÿœ๐Ÿฆ—๐Ÿ•ท๐Ÿ•ธ๐Ÿฆ‚๐Ÿข๐Ÿ๐ŸฆŽ๐Ÿฆ–๐Ÿฆ•๐Ÿ™๐Ÿฆ‘๐Ÿฆ๐Ÿฆ€๐Ÿก๐Ÿ ๐ŸŸ๐Ÿฌ๐Ÿณ๐Ÿ‹๐Ÿฆˆ๐ŸŠ๐Ÿ…๐Ÿ†๐Ÿฆ“๐Ÿฆ๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿฆ๐Ÿช๐Ÿซ๐Ÿฆ’๐Ÿƒ๐Ÿ‚๐Ÿ„๐ŸŽ๐Ÿ–๐Ÿ๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿ๐ŸฆŒ๐Ÿ•๐Ÿฉ๐Ÿˆ๐Ÿ“๐Ÿฆƒ๐Ÿ•Š๐Ÿ‡๐Ÿ๐Ÿ€๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿฆ”๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ‰๐Ÿฒ๐ŸŒต๐ŸŽ„๐ŸŒฒ๐ŸŒณ๐ŸŒด๐ŸŒฑ๐ŸŒฟโ˜˜๏ธ๐Ÿ€๐ŸŽ๐ŸŽ‹๐Ÿƒ๐Ÿ‚๐Ÿ๐Ÿ„๐ŸŒพ๐Ÿ’๐ŸŒท๐ŸŒน๐Ÿฅ€๐ŸŒบ๐ŸŒธ๐ŸŒผ๐ŸŒป๐ŸŒž๐ŸŒ๐ŸŒ›๐ŸŒœ๐ŸŒš๐ŸŒ•๐ŸŒ–๐ŸŒ—๐ŸŒ˜๐ŸŒ‘๐ŸŒ’๐ŸŒ“๐ŸŒ”๐ŸŒ™๐ŸŒŽ๐ŸŒ๐ŸŒ๐Ÿ’ซโญ๏ธ๐ŸŒŸโœจโšก๏ธโ˜„๏ธ๐Ÿ’ฅ๐Ÿ”ฅ๐ŸŒช๐ŸŒˆโ˜€๏ธ๐ŸŒคโ›…๏ธ๐ŸŒฅโ˜๏ธ๐ŸŒฆ๐ŸŒงโ›ˆ๐ŸŒฉ๐ŸŒจโ„๏ธโ˜ƒ๏ธโ›„๏ธ๐ŸŒฌ๐Ÿ’จ๐Ÿ’ง๐Ÿ’ฆโ˜”๏ธโ˜‚๏ธ๐ŸŒŠ๐ŸŒซ๐Ÿ๐ŸŽ๐Ÿ๐ŸŠ๐Ÿ‹๐ŸŒ๐Ÿ‰๐Ÿ‡๐Ÿ“๐Ÿˆ๐Ÿ’๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿ๐Ÿฅฅ๐Ÿฅ๐Ÿ…๐Ÿ†๐Ÿฅ‘๐Ÿฅฆ๐Ÿฅ’๐ŸŒถ๐ŸŒฝ๐Ÿฅ•๐Ÿฅ”๐Ÿ ๐Ÿฅ๐Ÿž๐Ÿฅ–๐Ÿฅจ๐Ÿง€๐Ÿฅš๐Ÿณ๐Ÿฅž๐Ÿฅ“๐Ÿฅฉ๐Ÿ—๐Ÿ–๐ŸŒญ๐Ÿ”๐ŸŸ๐Ÿ•๐Ÿฅช๐Ÿฅ™๐ŸŒฎ๐ŸŒฏ๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ˜๐Ÿฅซ๐Ÿ๐Ÿœ๐Ÿฒ๐Ÿ›๐Ÿฃ๐Ÿฑ๐ŸฅŸ๐Ÿค๐Ÿ™๐Ÿš๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿฅ๐Ÿฅ ๐Ÿข๐Ÿก๐Ÿง๐Ÿจ๐Ÿฆ๐Ÿฅง๐Ÿฐ๐ŸŽ‚๐Ÿฎ๐Ÿญ๐Ÿฌ๐Ÿซ๐Ÿฟ๐Ÿฉ๐Ÿช๐ŸŒฐ๐Ÿฅœ๐Ÿฏ๐Ÿฅ›๐Ÿผโ˜•๏ธ๐Ÿต๐Ÿฅค๐Ÿถ๐Ÿบ๐Ÿป๐Ÿฅ‚๐Ÿท๐Ÿฅƒ๐Ÿธ๐Ÿน๐Ÿพ๐Ÿฅ„๐Ÿฅ„๐Ÿด๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿฅฃ๐Ÿฅก๐Ÿฅขโšฝ๏ธ๐Ÿ€๐Ÿˆโšพ๏ธ๐ŸŽพ๐Ÿ๐Ÿ‰๐ŸŽฑ๐Ÿ“๐Ÿธ๐Ÿฅ…๐Ÿ’๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿโ›ณ๏ธ๐Ÿน๐ŸŽฃ๐ŸฅŠ๐Ÿฅ‹๐ŸŽฝโ›ธ๐ŸฅŒ๐Ÿ›ท๐ŸŽฟโ›ท๐Ÿ‚๐Ÿ‹๏ธโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ‹๏ธโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿคผโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿคผโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿคธโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿคธโ€โ™‚๏ธโ›น๏ธโ€โ™€๏ธโ›น๏ธโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿคบ๐Ÿคพโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿคพโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐ŸŒ๏ธโ€โ™€๏ธ๐ŸŒ๏ธโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ‡๐Ÿง˜โ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿง˜โ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ„โ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ„โ€โ™‚๏ธ๐ŸŠโ€โ™€๏ธ๐ŸŠโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿคฝโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿคฝโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿšฃโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿšฃโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿง—โ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿง—โ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿšตโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿšตโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿšดโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿšดโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿ†๐Ÿฅ‡๐Ÿฅˆ๐Ÿฅ‰๐Ÿ…๐ŸŽ–๐Ÿต๐ŸŽ—๐ŸŽซ๐ŸŽŸ๐ŸŽช๐Ÿคนโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿคนโ€โ™‚๏ธ๐ŸŽญ๐ŸŽจ๐ŸŽฌ๐ŸŽค๐ŸŽง๐ŸŽผ๐ŸŽน๐Ÿฅ๐ŸŽท๐ŸŽบ๐ŸŽธ๐ŸŽป๐ŸŽฒ๐ŸŽฏ๐ŸŽณ๐ŸŽฎ๐ŸŽฐ๐Ÿš—๐Ÿš•๐Ÿš™๐ŸšŒ๐ŸšŽ๐ŸŽ๐Ÿš“๐Ÿš‘๐Ÿš’๐Ÿš๐Ÿšš๐Ÿš›๐Ÿšœ๐Ÿ›ด๐Ÿšฒ๐Ÿ›ต๐Ÿ๐Ÿšจ๐Ÿš”๐Ÿš๐Ÿš˜๐Ÿš–๐Ÿšก๐Ÿš ๐ŸšŸ๐Ÿšƒ๐Ÿš‹๐Ÿšž๐Ÿš๐Ÿš„๐Ÿš…๐Ÿšˆ๐Ÿš‚๐Ÿš†๐Ÿš‡๐ŸšŠ๐Ÿš‰โœˆ๏ธ๐Ÿ›ซ๐Ÿ›ฌ๐Ÿ›ฉ๐Ÿ’บ๐Ÿ›ฐ๐Ÿš€๐Ÿ›ธ๐Ÿš๐Ÿ›ถโ›ต๏ธ๐Ÿšค๐Ÿ›ฅ๐Ÿ›ณโ›ด๐Ÿšขโš“๏ธโ›ฝ๏ธ๐Ÿšง๐Ÿšฆ๐Ÿšฅ๐Ÿš๐Ÿ—บ๐Ÿ—ฟ๐Ÿ—ฝ๐Ÿ—ผ๐Ÿฐ๐Ÿฏ๐ŸŸ๐ŸŽก๐ŸŽข๐ŸŽ โ›ฒ๏ธโ›ฑ๐Ÿ–๐Ÿ๐Ÿœ๐ŸŒ‹โ›ฐ๐Ÿ”๐Ÿ—ป๐Ÿ•โ›บ๏ธ๐Ÿ ๐Ÿก๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿš๐Ÿ—๐Ÿญ๐Ÿข๐Ÿฌ๐Ÿฃ๐Ÿค๐Ÿฅ๐Ÿฆ๐Ÿจ๐Ÿช๐Ÿซ๐Ÿฉ๐Ÿ’’๐Ÿ›โ›ช๏ธ๐Ÿ•Œ๐Ÿ•๐Ÿ•‹โ›ฉ๐Ÿ›ค๐Ÿ›ฃ๐Ÿ—พ๐ŸŽ‘๐Ÿž๐ŸŒ…๐ŸŒ„๐ŸŒ ๐ŸŽ‡๐ŸŽ†๐ŸŒ‡๐ŸŒ†๐Ÿ™๐ŸŒƒ๐ŸŒŒ๐ŸŒ‰๐ŸŒโŒš๏ธ๐Ÿ“ฑ๐Ÿ“ฒ๐Ÿ’ปโŒจ๏ธ๐Ÿ–ฅ๐Ÿ–จ๐Ÿ–ฑ๐Ÿ–ฒ๐Ÿ•น๐Ÿ—œ๐Ÿ’ฝ๐Ÿ’พ๐Ÿ’ฟ๐Ÿ“€๐Ÿ“ผ๐Ÿ“ท๐Ÿ“ธ๐Ÿ“น๐Ÿ“ฝ๐ŸŽž๐Ÿ“žโ˜Ž๏ธ๐Ÿ“Ÿ๐Ÿ“ ๐Ÿ“บ๐Ÿ“ป๐ŸŽ™๐ŸŽš๐ŸŽ›โฑโฒโฐ๐Ÿ•ฐโŒ›๏ธโณ๐Ÿ“ก๐Ÿ”‹๐Ÿ”Œ๐Ÿ’ก๐Ÿ”ฆ๐Ÿ•ฏ๐Ÿ—‘๐Ÿ›ข๐Ÿ’ธ๐Ÿ’ต๐Ÿ’ด๐Ÿ’ถ๐Ÿ’ท๐Ÿ’ฐ๐Ÿ’ณ๐Ÿ’Žโš–๏ธ๐Ÿ”ง๐Ÿ”จโš’๐Ÿ› โ›๐Ÿ”ฉโš™๏ธโ›“๐Ÿ”ซ๐Ÿ’ฃ๐Ÿ”ช๐Ÿ—กโš”๏ธ๐Ÿ›ก๐Ÿšฌโšฐ๏ธโšฑ๏ธ๐Ÿบ๐Ÿ”ฎ๐Ÿ“ฟ๐Ÿ’ˆโš—๏ธ๐Ÿ”ญ๐Ÿ”ฌ๐Ÿ•ณ๐Ÿ’Š๐Ÿ’‰๐ŸŒก๐Ÿšฝ๐Ÿšฐ๐Ÿšฟ๐Ÿ›๐Ÿ”‘๐Ÿ—๐Ÿšช๐Ÿ›‹๐Ÿ›๐Ÿ›Œ๐Ÿ–ผ๐Ÿ›๐Ÿ›’๐ŸŽ๐ŸŽˆ๐ŸŽ๐ŸŽ€๐ŸŽŠ๐ŸŽ‰๐ŸŽŽ๐Ÿฎ๐ŸŽโœ‰๏ธ๐Ÿ“ฉ๐Ÿ“จ๐Ÿ“ง๐Ÿ’Œ๐Ÿ“ฅ๐Ÿ“ค๐Ÿ“ฆ๐Ÿท๐Ÿ“ช๐Ÿ“ซ๐Ÿ“ฌ๐Ÿ“ญ๐Ÿ“ฎ๐Ÿ“ฏ๐Ÿ“œ๐Ÿ“ƒ๐Ÿ“„๐Ÿ“‘๐Ÿ“Š๐Ÿ“ˆ๐Ÿ“‰๐Ÿ—’๐Ÿ—“๐Ÿ“†๐Ÿ“…๐Ÿ“‡๐Ÿ—ƒ๐Ÿ—ณ๐Ÿ—„๐Ÿ“‹๐Ÿ“๐Ÿ“‚๐Ÿ—‚๐Ÿ—ž๐Ÿ“ฐ๐Ÿ““๐Ÿ“”๐Ÿ“’๐Ÿ“•๐Ÿ“—๐Ÿ“˜๐Ÿ“™๐Ÿ“š๐Ÿ“–๐Ÿ”–๐Ÿ”—๐Ÿ“Ž๐Ÿ–‡๐Ÿ“๐Ÿ“๐Ÿ“Œ๐Ÿ“โœ‚๏ธ๐Ÿ“โœ๏ธ๐Ÿ”๐Ÿ”Ž๐Ÿ”๐Ÿ”๐Ÿ”’๐Ÿ”“โค๏ธ๐Ÿงก๐Ÿ’›๐Ÿ’š๐Ÿ’™๐Ÿ’œ๐Ÿ–ค๐Ÿ’”โฃ๏ธ๐Ÿ’•๐Ÿ’ž๐Ÿ’“๐Ÿ’—๐Ÿ’–๐Ÿ’˜๐Ÿ’๐Ÿ’Ÿโ˜ฎ๏ธโœ๏ธโ˜ช๏ธ๐Ÿ•‰โ˜ธ๏ธโœก๏ธ๐Ÿ”ฏ๐Ÿ•Žโ˜ฏ๏ธโ˜ฆ๏ธ๐Ÿ›โ›Žโ™ˆ๏ธโ™‰๏ธโ™Š๏ธโ™‹๏ธโ™Œ๏ธโ™๏ธโ™Ž๏ธโ™๏ธโ™๏ธโ™‘๏ธโ™’๏ธโ™“๏ธ๐Ÿ†”โš›๏ธ๐Ÿ‰‘โ˜ข๏ธโ˜ฃ๏ธ๐Ÿ“ด๐Ÿ“ณ๐Ÿˆถ๐Ÿˆš๏ธ๐Ÿˆธ๐Ÿˆบ๐Ÿˆท๏ธโœด๏ธ๐Ÿ†š๐Ÿ’ฎ๐Ÿ‰ใŠ™๏ธใŠ—๏ธ๐Ÿˆด๐Ÿˆต๐Ÿˆน๐Ÿˆฒ๐Ÿ…ฐ๏ธ๐Ÿ…ฑ๏ธ๐Ÿ†Ž๐Ÿ†‘๐Ÿ…พ๏ธ๐Ÿ†˜โŒโญ•๏ธ๐Ÿ›‘โ›”๏ธ๐Ÿ“›๐Ÿšซ๐Ÿ’ฏ๐Ÿ’ขโ™จ๏ธ๐Ÿšท๐Ÿšฏ๐Ÿšณ๐Ÿšฑ๐Ÿ”ž๐Ÿ“ต๐Ÿšญโ—๏ธโ•โ“โ”โ€ผ๏ธโ‰๏ธ๐Ÿ”…๐Ÿ”†ใ€ฝ๏ธโš ๏ธ๐Ÿšธ๐Ÿ”ฑโšœ๏ธ๐Ÿ”ฐโ™ป๏ธโœ…๐Ÿˆฏ๏ธ๐Ÿ’นโ‡๏ธโœณ๏ธโŽ๐ŸŒ๐Ÿ’ โ“‚๏ธ๐ŸŒ€๐Ÿ’ค๐Ÿง๐Ÿšพโ™ฟ๏ธ๐Ÿ…ฟ๏ธ๐Ÿˆณ๐Ÿˆ‚๏ธ๐Ÿ›‚๐Ÿ›ƒ๐Ÿ›„๐Ÿ›…๐Ÿšน๐Ÿšบ๐Ÿšผ๐Ÿšป๐Ÿšฎ๐ŸŽฆ๐Ÿ“ถ๐Ÿˆ๐Ÿ”ฃโ„น๏ธ๐Ÿ”ค๐Ÿ”ก๐Ÿ” ๐Ÿ†–๐Ÿ†—๐Ÿ†™๐Ÿ†’๐Ÿ†•๐Ÿ†“0๏ธโƒฃ1๏ธโƒฃ2๏ธโƒฃ3๏ธโƒฃ4๏ธโƒฃ5๏ธโƒฃ6๏ธโƒฃ7๏ธโƒฃ8๏ธโƒฃ9๏ธโƒฃ๐Ÿ”Ÿ๐Ÿ”ข#๏ธโƒฃ*๏ธโƒฃโ๏ธโ–ถ๏ธโธโฏโนโบโญโฎโฉโชโซโฌโ—€๏ธ๐Ÿ”ผ๐Ÿ”ฝโžก๏ธโฌ…๏ธโฌ†๏ธโฌ‡๏ธโ†—๏ธโ†˜๏ธโ†™๏ธโ†–๏ธโ†•๏ธโ†”๏ธโ†ช๏ธโ†ฉ๏ธโคด๏ธโคต๏ธ๐Ÿ”€๐Ÿ”๐Ÿ”‚๐Ÿ”„๐Ÿ”ƒ๐ŸŽต๐ŸŽถโž•โž–โž—โœ–๏ธ๐Ÿ’ฒ๐Ÿ’ฑโ„ข๏ธยฉ๏ธยฎ๏ธใ€ฐ๏ธโžฐโžฟ๐Ÿ”š๐Ÿ”™๐Ÿ”›๐Ÿ”๐Ÿ”œโœ”๏ธโ˜‘๏ธ๐Ÿ”˜โšช๏ธโšซ๏ธ๐Ÿ”ด๐Ÿ”ต๐Ÿ”บ๐Ÿ”ป๐Ÿ”ธ๐Ÿ”น๐Ÿ”ถ๐Ÿ”ท๐Ÿ”ณ๐Ÿ”ฒโ–ช๏ธโ–ซ๏ธโ—พ๏ธโ—ฝ๏ธโ—ผ๏ธโ—ป๏ธโฌ›๏ธโฌœ๏ธ๐Ÿ”ˆ๐Ÿ”‡๐Ÿ”‰๐Ÿ”Š๐Ÿ””๐Ÿ”•๐Ÿ“ฃ๐Ÿ“ข๐Ÿ‘โ€๐Ÿ—จ๐Ÿ’ฌ๐Ÿ’ญ๐Ÿ—ฏโ™ ๏ธโ™ฃ๏ธโ™ฅ๏ธโ™ฆ๏ธ๐Ÿƒ๐ŸŽด๐Ÿ€„๏ธ๐Ÿ•๐Ÿ•‘๐Ÿ•’๐Ÿ•“๐Ÿ•”๐Ÿ••๐Ÿ•–๐Ÿ•—๐Ÿ•˜๐Ÿ•™๐Ÿ•š๐Ÿ•›๐Ÿ•œ๐Ÿ•๐Ÿ•ž๐Ÿ•Ÿ๐Ÿ• ๐Ÿ•ก๐Ÿ•ข๐Ÿ•ฃ๐Ÿ•ค๐Ÿ•ฅ๐Ÿ•ฆ๐Ÿ•ง๐Ÿณ๏ธ๐Ÿด๐Ÿ๐Ÿšฉ๐Ÿณ๏ธโ€๐ŸŒˆ๐Ÿ‡ฆ๐Ÿ‡ซ๐Ÿ‡ฆ๐Ÿ‡ฝ๐Ÿ‡ฆ๐Ÿ‡ฑ๐Ÿ‡ฉ๐Ÿ‡ฟ๐Ÿ‡ฆ๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡ฆ๐Ÿ‡ฉ๐Ÿ‡ฆ๐Ÿ‡ด๐Ÿ‡ฆ๐Ÿ‡ฎ๐Ÿ‡ฆ๐Ÿ‡ถ๐Ÿ‡ฆ๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ฆ๐Ÿ‡ท๐Ÿ‡ฆ๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡ฆ๐Ÿ‡ผ๐Ÿ‡ฆ๐Ÿ‡บ๐Ÿ‡ฆ๐Ÿ‡น๐Ÿ‡ฆ๐Ÿ‡ฟ๐Ÿ‡ง๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡ง๐Ÿ‡ญ๐Ÿ‡ง๐Ÿ‡ฉ๐Ÿ‡ง๐Ÿ‡ง๐Ÿ‡ง๐Ÿ‡พ๐Ÿ‡ง๐Ÿ‡ช๐Ÿ‡ง๐Ÿ‡ฟ๐Ÿ‡ง๐Ÿ‡ฏ๐Ÿ‡ง๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡ง๐Ÿ‡น๐Ÿ‡ง๐Ÿ‡ด๐Ÿ‡ง๐Ÿ‡ฆ๐Ÿ‡ง๐Ÿ‡ผ๐Ÿ‡ง๐Ÿ‡ท๐Ÿ‡ฎ๐Ÿ‡ด๐Ÿ‡ป๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ง๐Ÿ‡ณ๐Ÿ‡ง๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ง๐Ÿ‡ซ๐Ÿ‡ง๐Ÿ‡ฎ๐Ÿ‡ฐ๐Ÿ‡ญ๐Ÿ‡จ๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡จ๐Ÿ‡ฆ๐Ÿ‡ฎ๐Ÿ‡จ๐Ÿ‡จ๐Ÿ‡ป๐Ÿ‡ง๐Ÿ‡ถ๐Ÿ‡ฐ๐Ÿ‡พ๐Ÿ‡จ๐Ÿ‡ซ๐Ÿ‡น๐Ÿ‡ฉ๐Ÿ‡จ๐Ÿ‡ฑ๐Ÿ‡จ๐Ÿ‡ณ๐Ÿ‡จ๐Ÿ‡ฝ๐Ÿ‡จ๐Ÿ‡จ๐Ÿ‡จ๐Ÿ‡ด๐Ÿ‡ฐ๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡จ๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡จ๐Ÿ‡ฉ๐Ÿ‡จ๐Ÿ‡ฐ๐Ÿ‡จ๐Ÿ‡ท๐Ÿ‡จ๐Ÿ‡ฎ๐Ÿ‡ญ๐Ÿ‡ท๐Ÿ‡จ๐Ÿ‡บ๐Ÿ‡จ๐Ÿ‡ผ๐Ÿ‡จ๐Ÿ‡พ๐Ÿ‡จ๐Ÿ‡ฟ๐Ÿ‡ฉ๐Ÿ‡ฐ๐Ÿ‡ฉ๐Ÿ‡ฏ๐Ÿ‡ฉ๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡ฉ๐Ÿ‡ด๐Ÿ‡ช๐Ÿ‡จ๐Ÿ‡ช๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡ป๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ถ๐Ÿ‡ช๐Ÿ‡ท๐Ÿ‡ช๐Ÿ‡ช๐Ÿ‡ช๐Ÿ‡น๐Ÿ‡ช๐Ÿ‡บ๐Ÿ‡ซ๐Ÿ‡ฐ๐Ÿ‡ซ๐Ÿ‡ด๐Ÿ‡ซ๐Ÿ‡ฏ๐Ÿ‡ซ๐Ÿ‡ฎ๐Ÿ‡ซ๐Ÿ‡ท๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ซ๐Ÿ‡ต๐Ÿ‡ซ๐Ÿ‡น๐Ÿ‡ซ๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ฆ๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ช๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ญ๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ฎ๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ท๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ฑ๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ฉ๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ต๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡บ๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡น๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ณ๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡พ๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡พ๐Ÿ‡ญ๐Ÿ‡น๐Ÿ‡ญ๐Ÿ‡ณ๐Ÿ‡ญ๐Ÿ‡ฐ๐Ÿ‡ญ๐Ÿ‡บ๐Ÿ‡ฎ๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡ฎ๐Ÿ‡ณ๐Ÿ‡ฎ๐Ÿ‡ฉ๐Ÿ‡ฎ๐Ÿ‡ท๐Ÿ‡ฎ๐Ÿ‡ถ๐Ÿ‡ฎ๐Ÿ‡ช๐Ÿ‡ฎ๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡ฎ๐Ÿ‡ฑ๐Ÿ‡ฎ๐Ÿ‡น๐Ÿ‡ฏ๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡ฏ๐Ÿ‡ต๐ŸŽŒ๐Ÿ‡ฏ๐Ÿ‡ช๐Ÿ‡ฏ๐Ÿ‡ด๐Ÿ‡ฐ๐Ÿ‡ฟ๐Ÿ‡ฐ๐Ÿ‡ช๐Ÿ‡ฐ๐Ÿ‡ฎ๐Ÿ‡ฝ๐Ÿ‡ฐ๐Ÿ‡ฐ๐Ÿ‡ผ๐Ÿ‡ฐ๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ฑ๐Ÿ‡ฆ๐Ÿ‡ฑ๐Ÿ‡ป๐Ÿ‡ฑ๐Ÿ‡ง๐Ÿ‡ฑ๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡ฑ๐Ÿ‡ท๐Ÿ‡ฑ๐Ÿ‡พ๐Ÿ‡ฑ๐Ÿ‡ฎ๐Ÿ‡ฑ๐Ÿ‡น๐Ÿ‡ฑ๐Ÿ‡บ๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡ด๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡ฐ๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡ผ๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡พ๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡ป๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡ฑ๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡น๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡ญ๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡ถ๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡ท๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡บ๐Ÿ‡พ๐Ÿ‡น๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡ฝ๐Ÿ‡ซ๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡ฉ๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡จ๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡ณ๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡ช๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡ฆ๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡ฟ๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡ณ๐Ÿ‡ฆ๐Ÿ‡ณ๐Ÿ‡ท๐Ÿ‡ณ๐Ÿ‡ต๐Ÿ‡ณ๐Ÿ‡ฑ๐Ÿ‡ณ๐Ÿ‡จ๐Ÿ‡ณ๐Ÿ‡ฟ๐Ÿ‡ณ๐Ÿ‡ฎ๐Ÿ‡ณ๐Ÿ‡ช๐Ÿ‡ณ๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ณ๐Ÿ‡บ๐Ÿ‡ณ๐Ÿ‡ซ๐Ÿ‡ฐ๐Ÿ‡ต๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡ต๐Ÿ‡ณ๐Ÿ‡ด๐Ÿ‡ด๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡ต๐Ÿ‡ฐ๐Ÿ‡ต๐Ÿ‡ผ๐Ÿ‡ต๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡ต๐Ÿ‡ฆ๐Ÿ‡ต๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ต๐Ÿ‡พ๐Ÿ‡ต๐Ÿ‡ช๐Ÿ‡ต๐Ÿ‡ญ๐Ÿ‡ต๐Ÿ‡ณ๐Ÿ‡ต๐Ÿ‡ฑ๐Ÿ‡ต๐Ÿ‡น๐Ÿ‡ต๐Ÿ‡ท๐Ÿ‡ถ๐Ÿ‡ฆ๐Ÿ‡ท๐Ÿ‡ช๐Ÿ‡ท๐Ÿ‡ด๐Ÿ‡ท๐Ÿ‡บ๐Ÿ‡ท๐Ÿ‡ผ๐Ÿ‡ผ๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡น๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡ฆ๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡ณ๐Ÿ‡ท๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡จ๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡ฑ๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡ฝ๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡ฐ๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡ฎ๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡ง๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡ด๐Ÿ‡ฟ๐Ÿ‡ฆ๐Ÿ‡ฐ๐Ÿ‡ท๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡ช๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡ฑ๐Ÿ‡ฐ๐Ÿ‡ง๐Ÿ‡ฑ๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡ญ๐Ÿ‡ฐ๐Ÿ‡ณ๐Ÿ‡ฑ๐Ÿ‡จ๐Ÿ‡ต๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡ป๐Ÿ‡จ๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡ฉ๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡ท๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡ฟ๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡ช๐Ÿ‡จ๐Ÿ‡ญ๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡พ๐Ÿ‡น๐Ÿ‡ผ๐Ÿ‡น๐Ÿ‡ฏ๐Ÿ‡น๐Ÿ‡ฟ๐Ÿ‡น๐Ÿ‡ญ๐Ÿ‡น๐Ÿ‡ฑ๐Ÿ‡น๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡น๐Ÿ‡ฐ๐Ÿ‡น๐Ÿ‡ด๐Ÿ‡น๐Ÿ‡น๐Ÿ‡น๐Ÿ‡ณ๐Ÿ‡น๐Ÿ‡ท๐Ÿ‡น๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡น๐Ÿ‡จ๐Ÿ‡น๐Ÿ‡ป๐Ÿ‡ป๐Ÿ‡ฎ๐Ÿ‡บ๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡บ๐Ÿ‡ฆ๐Ÿ‡ฆ๐Ÿ‡ช๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ง๐Ÿด๓ ง๓ ข๓ ฅ๓ ฎ๓ ง๓ ฟ๐Ÿด๓ ง๓ ข๓ ณ๓ ฃ๓ ด๓ ฟ๐Ÿด๓ ง๓ ข๓ ท๓ ฌ๓ ณ๓ ฟ๐Ÿ‡บ๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡บ๐Ÿ‡พ๐Ÿ‡บ๐Ÿ‡ฟ๐Ÿ‡ป๐Ÿ‡บ๐Ÿ‡ป๐Ÿ‡ฆ๐Ÿ‡ป๐Ÿ‡ช๐Ÿ‡ป๐Ÿ‡ณ๐Ÿ‡ผ๐Ÿ‡ซ๐Ÿ‡ช๐Ÿ‡ญ๐Ÿ‡พ๐Ÿ‡ช๐Ÿ‡ฟ๐Ÿ‡ฒ๐Ÿ‡ฟ๐Ÿ‡ผ

Family History

Moments in time.

Walker family farm house circa 1960, Headrick, Oklahoma

Walker family farm house circa 1960, Headrick, Oklahoma

I spent a great many sweltered and swollen summer days on the land with my grandfather. The house was an old Air Force barracks moved to the farm from the nearby base. Our work consisted of watering and tending to the cattle, maintaining equipment, and keeping the land healthy. In the mornings before the heat set in, weโ€™d gather from the fields our cantaloupe, watermelon, black eyed peas, plums, tomatoes, squash, and corn to sell to local markets and from the bed of the truck beneath the abandoned gas station awning in town. I negotiated a twenty percent take of what we made from the groceries and passersby, storing the bills in an old Prince Albert pipe tobacco container where I saved up enough paper to buy my first pair of Nikes (Cortez).

After the chores were done, my grandfather would sometimes take soap down to a cattle trough fed by our well and bathe there. I was free to run wild. Iโ€™d head up the mountain with my pellet gun, following after the dogs, Ace and Duce, to dodge sunning rattlesnakes and try to find a skunk we could harass. When we could only turn up grasshoppers in lieu of vermin, the dogs and I would run together down the mountain, across the sand pit, through the shelter belt, and down to the sandy salt fork of the Red River that wound its way through our place where I could swim naked in the red and muddy brine. I once made the mistake of wearing white underwear into that slow river to the consequence of permanent stain, like rusted steel. The nude was the better alternative.

The nights on that land were so dark, you couldnโ€™t see your hand in front of your face when the moon waned. I remember when my great-grandfather passed into death in the front bedroom (where I typically slept when I was there) and all the cows sauntered up to the house as if they knew their friend had left for a party they couldnโ€™t attend. That night was particularly dark as the taxidermy bobcat in the living room stared back in wild surprise at us in mourning and in misunderstanding.

Cherished and even difficult memories always feel softer as the patina of time shows its patterning.

Recently Back From New Mexico

The land of enchantment, indeed.

El Rey Court Santa Fe
El Rey Court Ristra Santa Fe
Santa Fe New Mexico

Lasso The Moon

The moon appeared without sound

in slow lament,

from behind wan clouds,

disappearing soon again into

distortions -

waves across rippled mud.

The Live Oak Reaches Tenderly Upward

ย A monk asked Joshu why Bodhidharma came to China.

Joshu said: "An oak tree in the garden."

Mumon's comment: If one sees Joshu's answer clearly, there is no Shakyamuni Buddha before him and no future Buddha after him.

Words cannot describe everything.
The heart's message cannot be delivered in words.
If one receives words literally, he will be lost,
If he tries to explain with words, he will not attain enlightenment in this life.

Zac & Monica

Zac & Monica

After I arranged Ikebana for my sisterโ€™s wedding in the spring, my roommates and dearest friends Zac and Monica asked me to do about 28 table centerpiece arrangements for the reception after their wedding. With some added confidence and stress-reducing-techniques after my last endeavor at this scale, I gladly accepted.

Zac Catanzaro is an entrepreneur and musician and producer who most notably does many things for the band Walker Lukens And The Sidearms. If youโ€™ve not yet heard about their Song Confessional project, check it out. Monica Marcano is a coffee connoisseur, witchy lady, and house plant guru. I honestly couldnโ€™t imagine a more deserving pair of human beings to whom Iโ€™d give a gift like this - theyโ€™re both creative, loving, generous, kind, and (best of all) sassy. Itโ€™s a joy to know them and a privilege to call them my closest friends.

If youโ€™ve not yet read about my arrangements for my sisterโ€™s wedding, you should definitely read that before you dive in any further here; it provides very useful context for what youโ€™re about to get into.

Ikebana

For those who donโ€™t know, I've been a practitioner of Ikebana (็”Ÿใ‘่Šฑ, "living flowers") for several years now. It's a Japanese art form of contemplative floral arrangement that has become one of my favorite art forms to practice. It is also known as Kadล (่ฏ้“, "way of flowers") and is considered one of the three classical Japanese arts of refinement.

The form has been practiced for more than 600 years. It has evolved during this long period from what were originally Buddhist offerings that were placed on the altar of temples into a developed art form free of its religious origins that are displayed in the home. Practitioners use flowers, branches, and leaves to create living pieces of art. There are many schools of Ikebana, but I have been taught in the Sogetsu School and have studied under artists who venture into the unknown territory of free form arranging and personally have been moving into the more abstract expressionist practices with respectful nods toward the old styles.

Ikebana is an art form that is deeply meditative. Creating an arrangement is typically done in silence to allow the artist to observe and meditate on the beauty of nature so that insight into the infinite and fundamentally sound nature of existence can arise. Seasoned designers realize not only the importance of silence, but also the importance of space, which is not always meant to be filled, but created and preserved through the arrangements. This ties into other principles of Ikebana including minimalism, shape and line, form, humanity, aesthetics, and balance.

It is also imbued with โ€œhiddenโ€ meaning. Meaning has been attributed to flowers for thousands of years across the planet, but particularly in Japan. The concept of hanakotoba (่Šฑ่จ€่‘‰) is the Japanese form of the language of flowers. It is sometimes called floriography, and is a kind of cryptological communication through flowers themselves. While I have been practicing Ikebana for a number of years, I have only just begun my education of hanakotoba. In the work I did for this wedding, I explored the aspects of hanakotoba to the degree I understand it within the relationship between the viewer and the arrangement. In hanakotoba, the emotional connection and poetic communication in flowers occurs directly between the recipient or viewer without needing the use of words.

To become a masterful artist that can express hanakotoba with elegance (something I have not yet fully accomplished) requires a patient commitment to the art and discipline to see it through. The discipline cultivated when arranging flowers in this way creates a situation wherein the artist may experience a deep level of connectivity to the land, seasons, and plants. This art form opens up the possibility of a more nuanced understanding of context of the surrounding ecology and forces the artist to engage with an intense degree of focus and presence. The physicality of arranging forces the artist to open up to the fundamental concepts of space, harmony, and asymmetry. 

For Your Reference: The Nageire Style with some fun, done in an upright vase

For Your Reference: The Nageire Style with some fun, done in an upright vase

In order to practice Ikebana deeply, an artist needs to see clearly - to perceive the full picture of context, texture, color, and form. The fundamental obstacle to clear perception is the anxiety of our narratives, the bullshit stories we tell ourselves that clutter our minds. When we convince ourselves that any part of the world is fixed and solid, we lose the ability to really relate with ourselves or to the world outside ourselves. I like to ascribe that anxiety the quality and feeling of heat. When anxiety arises in any moment, it feels like entering a hot and stuffy room where itโ€™s easy to feel claustrophobic without fresh air. That claustrophobia leads us to contract our sense perceptions. We canโ€™t smell, we canโ€™t taste, we canโ€™t hear, we canโ€™t feel. Our sense perceptions are numbed, which is a fundamental obstacle to creating a work of art that expresses genuineness and elegance.

Some cling to neurotic artistic fury, as though they could not become good or honest artists without it. I understand the tortured artist perspective to a degree, but it really lacks openness. It cuts off potentiality and limits the artistโ€™s work to a brand of aching and pain rather than a more robust expression of our human nature. Itโ€™s a view of art opposite to a sense of peace and coolness, which our insane world could use more of. It undermines the possibility of intrinsic ordinary beauty where even the mundane becomes powerful and visceral.

Fundamentally, Ikebana is the expression of the kind of beauty that is unconditional and doesnโ€™t require forcefulness or artificial conditions. From that unconditional beauty, which is peaceful and cool, arises the possibility of relaxing, and thereby perceiving the phenomenal world and oneโ€™s own senses properly. Ikebana is, at its core, a form of art that allows the artist to get out of the way of the world around us and simply expressing what is. That is hanakotoba, my aspiration for these arrangements.

Given this premise, the work ahead of me would be framed by two simple questions:

  1. How do flowers offer freshness, a sense of cool and spaciousness?

  2. How do I tell a real story without words?

For Your Reference: The Moribana Slanting Style, done in a shallow vase

For Your Reference: The Moribana Slanting Style, done in a shallow vase

One never knows how long one will live, but regardless of age, one should always remain flexible. Stagnation is the most frightening thing in the world. Rather than retreating one should constantly move forward.
— Teshigaharaโ€™s Diary, Kadensho, The Book of Flowers

A New But Familiar Context

Much like the approach I took on with my sisterโ€™s wedding, the notion of using what the land could provide was again attractive to me. Itโ€™s such a unique opportunity in time and space to take what the land can offer in that season, in that moment, and to create a temporary work of art from those materials. Ikebana is brilliant in that way. This time the context wouldnโ€™t be the Texas High Plains, but right in the heart of the river woven hills of Central Texas.

The Texas Hill Country is located in the Edwards Plateau at the crossroads of West Texas, Central Texas, and South Texas. Given its location, climate, terrain, and vegetation, the Hill Country can be considered the border between the American Southwest and Southeast. Obviously I wanted to dig into the native vegetation of the region for the foraging efforts that would these arrangements to life. Lucky for me the region is rich with various yucca, prickly pear cactus, desert spoon, and wildflowers, while the predominant trees in the region are ashe juniper, yaupon holly, Texas live oak, and of course, the infamous and conflicting epiphyte ball moss that grows from their brilliant spindly branches. There would no doubt be a rich palette of colors and textures to work with. And these materials have a sense of depth and story.

In Pre-European America, what we now call the Texas Hill Country was more or less a grassland savannah formed largely by grazing habits of bison and antelope (not dissimilar from the grassland plains whence I come). The land supported a rich diversity of forbs and grasses, while the ashe juniper was restricted to overgrazed areas along rivers and streams where the cloven animals would gather for water, and in areas of shallow soils and steep canyons where wild fires did not occur frequently. You might be surprised to know that the white-tailed deer that are so overpopulated here now were rarely found in the grasslands back in those days. But enter the Europeans (of course, right?). 

With European settlement came fences, cows, sheep, goats, and controlled fire practices. Livestock were continuously grazed in fenced pastures which disrupted the natural movement patterns of grazing animals. The plants werenโ€™t able to recover from new heavy grazing patterns. By the turn of the 20th century, continuous overgrazing and control of fire had taken its toll and changed the fundamental quality of the landscape as it began to change from a grassland to the brushland we know today. Many of the woody brush species were readily grazed by sheep, goats, cattle, and an increasing regional wild deer herd. Domesticated cloven animals have selective eating habits, rapidly consuming the more desirable plants first and leave the less desirable plants for last.

By the 1940's, many of the good quality plant species were highly depleted and not readily found on most ranges. Our precious Hill Country was completely dominated by poor quality browse, forb, and grass plants. Ashe juniper (commonly called cedar by allergy sufferers) is a highly undesirable forage plant, avoided by both domestic livestock and wild deer. In much of the Hill Country, cedar became the dominant plant species, causing a once diverse and healthy landscape to become a virtual "cedar break" with very little plant diversity or vigor. All would seem lost were it not for the mighty Live Oaksโ€™ perseverance and in such a Texan has a way, these trees have remained.

Now the economic activity in the Texas Hill Country is one of the fastest growing in the country. And as population explodes alongside this growth, the region is faced with its own critical requirement to balance that growth with the preservation of precious natural resources like water, the remaining ecological systems, and the culture of preservation that have long supported life here. The consequences of unbridled sprawl are irrevocable. If rainwater canโ€™t find its way into the aquifers and springs, our vital drinking water supplies are endangered. Land fragmentation imperils the contiguous native habitat that our iconic Texas wildlife needs to survive. Unchecked expansion can also limit our access to the beautiful public lands which are so important to our recreational well being. This narrative is what makes Zac and Monicaโ€™s choice of venue such a compelling context in which to frame the work of arranging flowers that are meant to tell a story of landscape and movement.

The Harper Ranch In Bulverde

The Harper Ranch in Bulverde, TX is a boot strap tract, built by people who started with little and truly worked the land in the tradition of Texas ranches to create an environment focused on conservation. These days itโ€™s an active horse and exotic species ranch, as has been the trend in the Hill Country the last decade or so, featuring animals from the Middle East and the African plains. Itโ€™s a beautiful hill country parcel full of beauty, both in flora and fauna. Without places like this, the Texas Hill country would look like a ubiquitous, never-ending suburb. And wouldnโ€™t you know it - itโ€™s absolutely covered in brilliant Live Oak trees. I couldnโ€™t have asked for a better place to do this work.

The ranch owner worked with and was a dear friend to the late Richard Catanzaro, Zacโ€™s father, back when they were building the famous and beloved HEB grocery company into the Texan empire we know it as today. I came to learn that the land was the very first place Zac had come to โ€œexperienceโ€ Texas when their family was considering a move from New Jersey. Mr. Harper was endeavoring to convince the Catanzaros to set up camp in Texas and become part of the HEB family. As they toured the ranch, Zac (who was 9 years old at the time) was given permission to drive one of the golf carts in a virtually empty pasture save one single oak tree in the distance. Much to his motherโ€™s chagrin, he took off with big eyes and a wide smile and everything seemed to be fine until he somehow managed to send that cart sailing directly into the lone tree, crashing and terrifying everyone for a moment. Of course, they all laughed it off.

As I surveyed the space where the wedding would be held, beneath a beautiful grove of live oak and red oak trees, contemplating this story of young Zac that Mrs. Harper told the night before the wedding, it became very apparent that Live Oak would be the perfect and obvious central theme for all the flower arrangements. Live Oaks were Zacโ€™s first experience of Texas. Live Oaks would gently canopy the wedding guests as Monicaโ€™s father presented her to Zac to be married. Live Oaks were the historic heart of this land and would become the heart of the story these flower arrangements would tell.

Ikebana is arranged by putting your heart into it. The charm of ikebana lies in the fact that the expression will be different depending on time, place, and person who arranges it in spite of using the same container and material. Considering various conditions such as light and wind together with their surroundings, I try to create a work which has an inevitable reason for being โ€˜hereโ€™ at โ€˜this moment.โ€™
— Akane Teshigahara

Quercus Fusiformis

Of note, these Plateau Oak or Escarpment Live Oak is nearly identical in appearance to, but considered much hardier than its counterpart    Q. virginiana   .

Of note, these Plateau Oak or Escarpment Live Oak is nearly identical in appearance to, but considered much hardier than its counterpart Q. virginiana.

Commonly known as escarpment Live Oak or Plateau Live Oak, Quercus fusiformis is an evergreen oak tree that is emblematic of the Texas Hill Country. Its native range includes the Quartz Mountains and Wichita Mountains in southwestern Oklahoma (where my grandfather grew up and where he taught me the ways of working the land), through the Texas Hill Country (where I migrated from the High Plains and have made my home my entire adult life), to the Mexican states of Coahuila, Tamaulipas, and Nuevo Leรณn (where I have spent time enjoying the many offerings of the Mexican desert). It is a magnificent and stately tree with unparalleled longevity, which has endeared it to generations of hill country dwellers.

As I explored the metaphor of the Live Oak, I was struck by how well it represented Zac and Monicaโ€™s relationship. These trees have been considered symbols of strength for centuries and if youโ€™ve spent any time around these trees, itโ€™s quite apparent why. They are hearty, strong, and firmly rooted, often growing for hundreds of years. Whatโ€™s so remarkable about such a lifespan is that they begin as a tiny acorn in a very thin layer of soil atop limestone bedrock. Their root systems can often far supersede the height of the tree, such growth being triggered by the violent storms that bring with them torrential rains and wind.

Live Oak Illustration 2.jpg

Live Oaks are often up against considerable existential threat - heat, drought, flood, malnourished and alkaline soil, idiotic humans, etc. Yet they persist in providing immense shade, as well as supporting an abundance of life in their canopies. Epiphytes, lichens, birds, bees, lizards, squirrels, and even the occasional climbing hill country goat. In fact, when Live Oak branches encounter an obstacle, they do not break or bludgeon their way through, but rather they begin to bend and grow alongside whatever hardship lay in their path. What we consider beautiful and sinuous trunks and branch systems are actually a brilliant stroke of evolutionary luck that has created an iconic tree.

The metaphor was so rich and beautiful. It would be absurd not to use Live Oak as the central theme. They are remarkable and beautiful trees, cherished and beloved for their enduring qualities. Just as they have been steady in holding the land together here in Central Texas, so too would they represent the steadiness and sustaining qualities in Zac and Monicaโ€™s marriage as they bend and dance elegantly alongside any obstacles in their collective path.

From acorn to mighty Live Oak

From acorn to mighty Live Oak

Every acorn on the ground is just as alive as the three-hundred-year-old oak tree that towers over it.
— Hope Jahren

Designing

Monica gave me some wonderful and interesting ideas to explore, in both the materials with which I would be working (many of which she had dried to blend in with the living flowers for a weathered effect) and the containers purchased for the event, which varied in size and shape and color. The palette of colors would be autumnal and the textures diverse and rich.

I began to do some simple design exercises to get acquainted with the themes and forms that might emerge. Ikebana is a practice of trusting your instincts so I took pen to paper to see what would come to life when I imagined what forms could take shape. I knew I had my work cut out for me given how many arrangements needed to be done (it was a big wedding with lots of tables to fill), so the better I could familiarize myself with some ideas beforehand, the more fluid the work of arranging would be. For an extra measure of fun, I did all of these sketches with my left (non-dominant) hand to really lean into the idea of trusting my intuition.

Basic Elements Of Ikebana

Another design exercise I did was a contemplation of texture and form. One of the most basic principles in the Sogetsu school of Ikebana is the expression of heaven (Shin), earth (Tai), and humanity (Soe) within an arrangement by establishing a hierarchy of the elements themselves in the arrangement. This principle comes from the Chinese tradition and was developed further in Japan, where it has been connected with the tradition of ikebana for centuries. The principle of heaven, earth, and humanity also applies to calligraphy, painting, interior decoration, building a city, designing an airplane or an ocean liner, organizing dishwashing by choosing which dish to wash first, or vacuuming the floor. All of those works of art are included completely in the principle of heaven (Shin), earth (Tai), and humanity (Soe).

Live Oak Drawing

To explore how Live Oak might lend itself to the expression of heaven, earth, and humanity, I spent an afternoon about a week before the wedding walking around with a plucked branch. I wanted to hold it, become familiar with it, and let it make an impression. By using our sense of sight and touch in Ikebana, each flower or branch can connect us to something beyond our body. Our existence canโ€™t be without the support of the Earth just as much as we need the open sky, sunlight, and the solar system for our existence. The connection isnโ€™t just symbolic, it is a literal interpretation of how we are interconnected to everything that surrounds us.

Itโ€™s difficult to put into words how one internalizes the qualities of a plant. At some level, we all become intimate with the various aspects of our daily life. Farmers know every inch of their fields. Programmers remember lines of code. I came to know this plant. I had a sense for its story and now had the task of communicating with others what Iโ€™d experienced through the arrangements.

Live Oak Branch

Live Oak Branch

The art of ikebana is to listen to the spirits of flowers and plants. It is how to make the voice or sentiment of the flower a visual combination with your feelings. Ikebana allows the heart of the arranger to touch the heart of the viewer.
— Kasen Yoshimura

The Work

๐Ÿ“ท by  @veronica.briones

๐Ÿ“ท by @veronica.briones

๐Ÿ“ท by  @veronica.briones

๐Ÿ“ท by @veronica.briones

๐Ÿ“ท by  @veronica.briones

๐Ÿ“ท by @veronica.briones


Arranging Ikebana in the chaos of setting up a wedding requires calm focus, genuine expression, and gentleness. Otherwise, there is no way to work with the universe at all. I felt that I had a tremendous responsibility: the first to myself, to stay gentle and genuine; the second was to do this work for others in the same manner. I worked for the guests so they might experience the spaciousness that the flowers invite us to feel when theyโ€™re arranged in Ikebana practice. I think it is very important to realize how powerful all of us are in this way. What we are doing may seem insignificant, but the ways we move in the world have a profound impact on those around us. My job was not just to provide pretty flowers for a wedding, but to create an experiential landscape that tied together the brilliant live oak trees and the elegant scene where guests would eat, drink, and celebrate Zac and Monicaโ€™s love for one another.

๐Ÿ“ท by  @veronica.briones

๐Ÿ“ท by @veronica.briones

When we begin to perceive the world with that sense of space, peace, and appreciation for simple and minimalistic beauty, conflict begins to subside and we start to perceive our world clearly and thoroughly. There are no questions, no obstacles, just as the Live Oak experiences no obstacles. In Ikebana practice, the general anxiety of life can subside as the artistโ€™s sense perceptions become tuned to the work at hand. Through this practice of meditation, we can relate with our thoughts, our mind, and our breath and begin to discover the clarity of our sense perceptions and our thinking process. This is where a deep artistic expression occurs in the flowers.

This is the joining of of heaven (Shin), earth (Tai), and humanity (Soe).

When we begin to realize these principles at work, the heat of neurosis is cooled and a more pure insight has space to emerge. Because restfulness exists beyond the neurosis, we can feel confident in our handsโ€™ ability to place flowers and branches where they need to go. Such trust in ourselves comes from realizing that we do not have to sacrifice ourselves to neurosis. And relaxation can happen because such trust has become a part of our existence. Therefore, we feel we can afford to open our eyes and all our sense perceptions fully.

That kind of trust is what held the space for textural Live Oak branches to sit in contrast to the elegance of calla lilies and carnations without pretense. It wasnโ€™t my mind trying to create a situation that wasnโ€™t there - it was simply observing the qualities of the materials in front of me and trusting myself to create without inhibition. Of course the โ€œrulesโ€ of traditional Ikebana guided the decision making, but they didnโ€™t create the arrangement. The arrangement was a genuine expression of its own making.

๐Ÿ“ท by  @veronica.briones

๐Ÿ“ท by @veronica.briones

Earth and heaven are not separate from us. The vast, spacious autumn sky opens above us all of the time, just as it did in Bulverde that beautiful day. But still we forget that we ourselves have the ability to turn the door knob in each moment of life to connect to something spacious, beyond our seemingly limited self. In the same way that a Live Oakโ€™s roots connect to their surroundings, far beyond what we see of them.

Whether or not these arrangements communicated this story well, I canโ€™t say. However, it is my great hope that these arrangements touched the hearts of Zac and Monica on the day they committed to one another, giving them even the briefest breath of fresh air in the midst of the hustle and bustle. And it is my great hope that their guests found delight in the forms as they wandered through the nuptial grounds, taking in a new petal, branch, or detail with each passing glance, the effect so subtle that it nearly passed unnoticed.


A huge thanks to Laura Brennand for her creative spirit, helpful eye, and for taking so many of the arrangement photos in this essay while I was diligently arranging in the midst of wedding madness. She is a fellow flower freak and besides being business partners with Monica in their Hoja project, sheโ€™s someone you should certainly look to for flower and plant needs in Austin via her project โ€œLa Otra Floraโ€.








Todos Somos Muleteros En El Campo

Canoed about 20 miles from Lajitas to the Santa Elena Canyon trailhead in Big Bend National Park last weekend. What a ride!

 

In These Bellied Hills

As the dog sniffs out wild onions,

dew collects upon her feather coat &

our dank mornings weigh down

all that is cotton. Though some sense of

lightness feels near, but on hold,

the cold hiding out in lonely valleys

far off, singing low, carried on wings up

windward mountain slopes. We know it

without words. In these bellied hills

we can still drink sweated glasses of iced

tea with sugar sweet & wear white - toe to

head well past Labor Day, though we dream

of memories; cooler nights & fireside.

The Building Science Podcast Logo Gets An Update

Over the course of the last 4 months or so the task of slowly redesigning The Building Science Podcastโ€™s logo has drifted on and off my desk. Itโ€™s needed to happen for a while (as youโ€™ll see and Iโ€™ll explain). So I finally had enough time between fire drills the last couple of weeks to let my mind drift long enough to arrive at that liminal space between inspiration and pragmatism. So here I am to tell you all about this wonderful new logo and arenโ€™t you so proud of me and yes I love you too. :)

The original logo was clunky, phallic, and busy, but it managed to get across the following ideas:

  1. This is a podcastโ€™s logo

  2. This podcast is mostly about engineering and science as it pertains to buildings

  3. The maker of this logo didnโ€™t know exactly what they were doing or what this logo was supposed to communicate (pssstโ€ฆ it was me, Iโ€™m the one who didnโ€™t know any of that)

The big problem with those points is that the important ones (1. and 2.) are only really communicated with the text in the logo, which is a pretty low bar. The point that I would have rather avoided all together (3.) is well expressed in the actual imagery, which when I began to analyze, made very little sense to what the show is about. To be frank, when I asked myself what that imagery actually communicated, I was at a loss. But like all work, when we realize something can be improved, we should endeavor to improve it. In this case, I wanted to find a way to make a simpler, expressive logo that visually communicated what The Building Science Podcast is about.

The show is about human society as it is expressed in buildings, evaluated with the lens of scientific inquiry and critical thinking.

Through time the show has become more nuanced in its approach, refined in its production quality, and sharply focused on a much larger mission than the less serious tone we had in our early days, back when we were just nerding out about building physics with a microphone. We still have some of that, but weโ€™ve pivoted to embrace a much larger and more important topic - that our homes have a profound impact on human health at both the microbiomic level and the macro-ecological level. Itโ€™s actually insane how little attention homes get in the big picture of human life on the planet, but so much of the human experience intersects in our species housing of itself.

I thought this shift in tone warranted a new look to express how the show has changed, especially as we approach our 5th yearly season in 2019. With new seasons come change. And we really do look at our show as but one way of accomplishing the mission of pointing architecture and construction practices toward a more human centered era. The whole show is based on change and potentiality. The more attractive and โ€œnormalโ€ we can communicate that idea, the better.

So I played with a few ideas here and there during the process that didnโ€™t really stick, as one does when finding imagery worth keeping and using. After several months of haphazard effort, I finally landed on a simple concept that played off the original logo, made a clear statement about the show, and served as a more elegant visual representation of the problem the show is meant to address.

The message is simple - our homes are complex experiments and weโ€™re living inside them all the while. Thatโ€™s literally what we talk about in some nuanced form or another each and every episode of the show.

I want to think that I almost got there with the original logo, but the message got lost in the clutter; the unnecessary gear wheel protruding from the edge of the round-bottom-flask with a spout far too long, and the clumsy representation of earth inside it. Itโ€™s trying too hard and still relying on the text to communicate anything meaningful. The message needed to stand on its own more simply. It needed to rely less on connecting complicated intellectual dots. It needed to look less like an engineering podcast right out of the gate. You donโ€™t just tell someone youโ€™re an engineer on the first date!

Logistically, it was a straight forward design. There were only a few elements. I endeavored to play with contrast between the circular flask-shape and bubbles against the angular corners of the building inside. I stuck with our company colors because I think theyโ€™re beautiful together and it otherwise wouldnโ€™t have been as easily identifiable in our audienceโ€™s transition in familiarity. You have to ease into a new look, just like a haircut. I also really enjoyed that I didnโ€™t have to deal with any typography because it simplified so much of the decision pathway. I did a fair bit of research on the podcasting app to see what stands out well, as well as informal focus grouping with architects and graphic designers I know and trust enough to be honest with me when they see something bad. None complained.

And voila!

I really think the new logo finds a more understated, less busy way to communicate the idea of a home as an experiment that needs to be understood. And it doesnโ€™t hurt that it looks great in Apple Podcasts.




Founding Farmer

Another silly little art project to keep the mind sharp (or cloudy, if thatโ€™s what youโ€™re into).

Did you know George Washington was a person?

Did you know George Washington was a person?

One Sweet Hello

If youโ€™re a Merle Haggard fan, thereโ€™s still a chance you may not know this one. It wasnโ€™t a big single, but itโ€™s such a classic sad country ballad that I decided to try my hand at it and record a cover of it. There is a lot of space in those old Bakersfield sound ballads, which means thereโ€™s lots of room to explore new sonics. I tried to get just weird enough.

I hope you enjoy.

Cowboy Legs

a passion kin,
anon & then so,
full up with such
certainty.
pure desire
from non-
form, climbed up
from flood water,
frozen over &
you shiver there
while I lick you
clean again.

Chicken In A Pecan Tree

Iโ€™ve made it my habit this summer to spend my early mornings running and swimming. Sometimes Iโ€™ll bound into the rocky trails of the Barton Creek greenbelt, but since the sun is rising later and later each passing day, Iโ€™ve stuck to the Town Lake hike and bike trail instead so as not to sprain an ankle. Most mornings this experience is uneventful - just quiet running in the dawn, followed by a dip in Barton Springs, shower, and head into work. And this morning would have been no different save one moment under a pecan tree near Zilker park.

chickens

I was chugging along and out of nowhere a goddamn chicken jumped down from one of the branches overhead, fluttering as it would to land safely to the ground. The only problem with the chickenโ€™s plan was that I happened to be running straight into her flight path so she hit me square in the face.

A group of concerned high school cross country runners stopped to check on me and make sure I was alright, to which we all started laughing. I was lucky she didnโ€™t spur at me or scratch. She just scared me and got my heart rate going even faster than the run had. But Iโ€™m glad it happened because when I stopped to look back east, there was a sunrise just unfolding itself before us all.

Isnโ€™t that the sort of trite metaphor we all run into at some point. For some itโ€™s a car accident or a health scare. For some itโ€™s a glimpse of peace in life. For me it was a chicken who thought she could maybe fly. I guess the moral of the story is that when a chicken jumps out of a pecan tree and hits you in the face, you better pay attention.

Sunrise on Town Lake Trail, September 18th, 2018

Sunrise on Town Lake Trail, September 18th, 2018

IMG_4354.jpg