Despite me posting copious amounts of atheist memes that for the most part I agree with wholeheartedly, I would not describe myself as a strict atheist. If anything, I would label myself “atheist light” or even agnostic if forced to put a label on my beliefs. If all I need is a total disbelief in a supreme being, then yes…I am a strict atheist. If, however, a belief in something beyond this life is also included, then I most certainly am not.
Admittedly, even though I have no evidence whatsoever to back this up, I believe that we are eternal beings, something that exists beyond space and time. Ultimately what powers us is totally separate from what we call “reality.” Further, we aren’t actually souls trapped in these bodies, but rather the energy piloting these bodies—our avatars—from beyond this physical reality. Why? To learn and grow. And possibly, just because from that external viewpoint and no matter how many horrific things may happen in our lives—for the pilots, our real selves, it’s ultimately fun. Think video games, or even a variation of The Matrix, but with each of us in control, not strapped in a pod somewhere against our will. We create the goals—be they for learning or just for fun—for each “game” before entering it, and once those goals are achieved, it’s time to move on to a new, different game.
Reincarnation? Absolutely, although viewed from the above lens. Reincarnation based on your deeds? Just like the proverbial heaven and hell, absolutely not. Reincarnation because—as I stated above—life is ultimately fun when viewed from this perspective. What curious, creative entity would not want to experience every possible variation available to them when there is an endless universe out there to explore?
Death—when it occurs—is the end each particular game, nothing more. You—or rather your pilot—is still you. (Perhaps minus the personality you took on for this particular life.) Take a break, come back, and try a new one.
The other day in therapy, the subject of suicide came up. I volunteered that I had frighteningly considered it once about thirty years ago. I had been out of work in SF and no matter what I did—despite being a seasoned tech worker—I couldn’t find a job and the walls were closing in around me. I thought how easy it would be to just take a drive own the coast highway (I was thinking Devil’s Slide in particular) and just drive my car over the cliff. I told her the only thing preventing me was the knowledge that it was a coward’s way out and I didn’t want to have to come back in a new life and a new body and I wanted the choice to do so—and at the time I believed that a suicide would strip that ability. My worldview was a little different back then, but this is ultimately what I still believe. Think of it this way: suicide is the only guarantee that you will come back to this exact same game again and again until you reach those original goals. It’s like throwing down the controller mid-game and walking away, except when you return you can’t start up where you left off—you have to restart the game from the very beginning and all your previous successes are wiped out. She laughed when I said, “Can you imagine having to go through high school again?” She agreed that would be reason enough not to kill yourself. I mean, really…who wants to go through that again?
Granted, like with all belief systems, there are gaping holes in this philosophy, and to be honest, all this only gelled into the semi-coherent mess it is for me in the last few years, but it brings me solace when faced with the absolute shit-show that has enveloped my life, both personally and world-wide.
“The Dome” designed by Paolo Soleri and Mark Mills completed in the summer of 1950 receiving international acclaim.
Soleri’s dome parallels work by Buckminster Fuller between 1949 and 1952 … and later Norman Foster and Fuller’s Autonomous Dwelling in 1982 which was to have a double skin dome, half glazed and half opaque, with inner and outer skins rotating independently.
I’m going later today. I’m prepared to be disappointed…
WOW!!! That’s all I can say about this movie. Spielberg is at the top of his game. I laughed. I cried. It had me on the edge of my seat more times than any film I’ve seen in years.
I saw this in the theater with my first lover, Dennis, back in 1982 when it first came out. No matter how down I am, this film always brings a smile to my face.
just as nobody wanted a heavily militarized Epstein Dance Hall, or an unwinnable don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-war on Iran, or masked and armed ICE thugs teargassing children, or unaffordable gas, or incoherent tariffs, or off-the-charts corruption, or any one of the million shithole crimes and indignities Preznit Fuckwit has inflicted on We the People, nobody wanted a broken-inside egomaniac shutting down one of midtown Manhattan’s busiest districts for a day and a night, just so he could fall asleep during a championship basketball game.
so, if nobody wanted this, then why did it happen?
well, guess what: New Yorkers are not okay with any of that shit at all, and they reacted to Donny’s unwanted presence in the most New York way ever — they cordially invited Dear Leader to fuck himself sideways.big, strong New Yorkers, their biceps rippling in the midday sun, tears streaming down their cheeks, booed Donny mercilessly. they booed him like few thought possible — maybe even the greatest boos of all time.
it cannot be understated how much of a disruption to daily life in Midtown Manhattan Dear Leader’s unnecessary escapade was. look at this headline. no walking allowed in Midtown. how fucked-up is that?
Sorry, Knicks fans: No Madison Square Garden watch party tonight.
You won’t even be able to walk close.
The NYPD and U.S. Secret Service announced another spate of street closures and security measures in anticipation of President Donald Trump’s historic trip to the Knicks’ NBA Finals game.
somebody please explain to me why the exclusion zone needed to stretch all the way from Fifth Avenue to Eighth Avenue. explain it to me like I’m five years old, because I’m just not understanding it.
imagine that Sleepy Joe Biden’s autopen had closed down Midtown Manhattan just so Joe could enjoy himself some sportsball.
the howls of anger from the entire wingnut outrage-industrial complex would have been audible on Mars. Comer Fudd and the shouty, half-dressed degenerate wrestling coach would have introduced articles of impeachment within minutes.
but Donny, infuriatingly, is granted an endless series of free passes to be a Very Special Boy Who Gets to Fuck Shit Up Any Time He Wants™.
90sKnicksFan33
Is it true your locker room access is being restricted so he can go in there? Last thing they need before this game is the distraction of the circus traipsing thru their locker room
Steve Popper
Yes. First time all season no pregame locker room access for media.
it certainly wasn’t so that Donny could enjoy watching an NBA Finals game, because the narcoleptic fart factory did what he always does in public these days — he closed his weary eyes, and started noisily sawing logs while carpet-bombing his little bulletproof enclosure with the pungent aroma of ass-music.
oh, that’s lovely. Dear Leader ruined everyone’s good time — and then couldn’t even be bothered to pay attention. what a selfish prick.
remember how Donny claimed he was too busy with his stupid illegal war to go to his failson’s wedding? weird how he didn’t have time for that, but apparently has all the free time in the world to fall asleep in Madison Square Garden.
it’s fucking maddening. Lord Shitticus gets to traipse about and waste all the money in the world on unnecessary vanity junkets, while you and I — We the People — struggle to keep the gas tank full, and to pay for basic goods and services. and then the stupid shit falls asleep, right in the middle of a noisy, raucous arena. what the actual fuck?
so, how did the Knicks do last night? not good. they lost their game to the Spurs, 115-111 — after having previously won their last thirteen games in a row. awesome job, Donny. you fucking jinxed a winning streak with your fetid presence.
that’s what popularity looks like. this is why Donny hates Obama so much — because deep down inside, Dear Leader knows that he’ll never be as admired as the black man whose accomplishments he’s trying to hard to destroy.
reporter: “what do you think of the reception you got from Knicks fans tonight?”
Donny: “I thought it was great. I mean, uhhhhhh, I thought it was amazing, actually. you mean where the had the camera, on me? I thought it was very good, yeah. it was certainly amazing. I think— mostly cheers. it was loud. and it was very— enthusiastic.”
yeah, sure. you keep telling yourself that. fucking loser.
Game 4 of the NBA Finals is tomorrow night. whether you’re a New York Knicks fan or a San Antonio Spurs fan, I think we can all agree on one thing:
fuck Trump.
but wait — it gets stupider.
while all that dumb-assery was going on up in New York, back at the While House they did a test of the lighting for that infantile wrestling match that Dear Leader is holding for his birthday.
it’s so fucking tasteless. he’s turned The People’s House into a Las Vegas bordello.
could anything possibly be more undignified? it’s so wrong. our founders would shit their breeches raw if they could see what’s become of their grand experiment in not have a fucking king.
this is going to be my closing message for the foreseeable future:
practice self-care. do what you need to do to keep sane. if that means you need to disengage with my daily posts for a while, I get it. this community of ours will still be here when you return.
to all the people who have signed on in the days since the election, welcome aboard. settle in as we all try to deal with the shitfuckery that’s ahead of us.
we are all in this together, and we are all here for each other.
For the last decade, we’ve been living in dog years, friends; pummeled by a century’s worth of Constitutional crises, systemic failures, war crimes, and human moral collapses.
The atrocities have accumulated, the legislative losses have piled up, and perhaps, most of all, the list of people we loved and once respected who’ve abandoned compassion and reason has grown beyond what we can fathom.
To put it another way: we’ve been knocked on our asses for ten straight years, and that’s gonna leave a mark on our nation, on our relationships, and on our psyches.
We are collectively experiencing the PTSD of a prolonged daily existence that our nervous systems were never designed to sustain. That kind of unceasing emotional trauma has rendered all of us deprived of hope, physically exhausted, and a hair’s breadth from a breakdown.
In light of all of this, we can be forgiven for believing that we’re never getting out of this, that our Republic is cooked, that 250 years will end up being the lifespan of our flawed but once-promising experiment in liberty.
But we’d be wrong.
Our present condition is not permanent, America. One way or another, a shift is coming.
He is not long for this earth, and he is not long for the presidency.
One day, soon, either nature or the Constitution is going to take him, and when it does, there will be rejoicing throughout this planet that we have not seen in 80 years. Humanity will feel the cathartic jubilation it should feel when tyrants meet their demise, and whether he ends first in the ground or in a cell, we all need to make sure we’re here to celebrate together.
We cannot be so overwhelmed by the recent sorrows and current threats that we slip into apathy and resignation; that we allow ourselves to be gaslighted into believing our presence counts for nothing, that our work is fruitless, that our efforts are wasted.
We need to remember that the toll of proximity and the lies of the present can distort reality.
We’re here right now, on the bloodied and broken ground with our faces pressed into the jagged, unrelenting horrors on our timelines and in our neighborhood. Presently, it’s impossible to rise to 30,000 feet and see that our current struggles, though formidable, are not unprecedented. Humanity has always persevered beyond the evil visited upon it.
If we lean on History, she will remind us that all violent regimes crumble, all malevolent movements dissolve, and all tyrants fall, and this will be true for this nation and the monstrosity in front of us. Our job as decent human beings is to allow our individual and collective presence to hasten the arrival of such times.
It may feel illogical, but we are closer to ending this nightmare than we imagine.
As quickly as it arrived, it can be driven out if, instead of throwing our hands up and accepting our shared fate in these moments, we transform all the despair and the anger we’ve amassed into a fierce and unrelenting resistance.
But that is the caveat here: we cannot wish this hatred away, and we cannot do nothing and hope it extinguishes itself. Violent, power-mad, parasitic people never voluntarily abdicate power once they have it; courageous, compassionate humanity has always needed to work together to take it from them.
We can be that beautiful plot-twisting presence right now.
And no, the ugliness his ascension has unearthed in our neighbors, the unthinkable damage he has done to our systems, and the cruelty he has authored will not magically disappear with his death or imprisonment, but there will be a massive gap left.
The terrible status quo will be interrupted.
Through the polls or through protest, instability will come to this seemingly unstoppable behemoth.
As they always do, time and effort will ensure that what is right now will not always be.
Friends, our calling as empathetic humans, good citizens of this nation, and caretakers of the planet, through sustained effort, personal sacrifice, and steadfast, focused fury, is to make sure that the nation we become will be greater than the nation we are, and far sooner than if we had never been here.
Donny: “the election was rigged. it was a dirty election. it’s happening again, right now in California.’
Meet the Press host Kristen Welker: “you’ve never presented evidence that the 2020 election was rigged.”
Donny: “look at what’s happening now [in California].”
Welkler: “what’s the evidence to that?”
***
Donny: “they’re cheating on the election [in California].”
Welker: “do you have evidence to support that?”
Donny: “all you have to do is look.”
Welker: “that’s not evidence.”
***
Donny: “they’re crooked. just like you’re crooked, your press is crooked and Meet the Press is crooked.”
Welker: “to be fair, sir, I’m not crooked.”
Donny: “really? well, you play right into their hands. you’re either crooked or you’re stupid. you know that these elections are rigged. your network knows that they’re rigged. you know that I won an election in a landslide and I got 94% bad press.”
Welker: “you’ve never presented evidence that it was rigged.”
Donny: “your elections are crooked. and you’re crooked. and Meet the Press is crooked, and so is ABC and CBS and CNN. you’re one-sided, crooked networks. okay, let’s call it quits, because I’ve had enough. thank you, darling.”
and with that, Preznit Fuckwit throws his microphone to the ground, gets up, and waddles away.
‘thank you, darling.’ what a condescending, misogynistic asshole. shut the fuck up, piggy.
all Kristen Welker did was ask Donny for evidence to back up his claims — but apparently, that was a bridge too far for the colicky piss-baby who lives inside a fact-free bubble, and throws a shit-fit any time some peasant dares challenge one of his fever-swamp hallucinations.
you’re going to hear a lot about how Donny ‘stormed’ off the set of Meet the Press, but I’m sorry, there was no ‘storming’ going on. in fact, the deteriorating fool almost fell right down on his beady-eyed pig-face.
here’s a pro tip for Donny: if you’re trying to create an indelible image of defiant anger, don’t step on the mic you dropped, causing your gamey leg to buckle, requiring you to grab Kristen Welker’s shoulder so you don’t topple the fuck over.
that moment’s a keeper, so let’s gif that shit for all eternity’s sake.
and also, I keep saying ‘the set of Meet the Press’ — but that interview quite obviously wasn’t conducted in NBC’s New York studio. they taped it Friday night, at the site of Donny’s look-how-much-I-love-farmers clusterfuck in Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin.
now, I get that the location was used for expediency’s sake, but did they really have to dress the set with wooden crates, hay bales and a tractor?
it’s a legit question, because it’s pretty hard to exude gravitas when it looks like you’re broadcasting from the set of Hee Haw.
it must be nice to be one of Donny’s cultists, and be forever serenely deluded into believing that whatever ass-hattery Dear Leader clowfucks himself into, he always comes away with the upper hand.
oh look, it’s Juanita Broaddrick. now there’s a blast from the past. you’ll be shocked, I’m sure, to learn that Broaddrick’s now a darling of the MAGA set — and that she’s guzzled all the Kool-Aid.
Holy Crap!! President Trump had enough of Welker’s lies and rips off microphone and walks out of interview. BRAVO!!! We have the best President!!
no, Juanita, that’s not what happened. what happened is that Brave Sir Donald bravely ran away, away.
Donny bravely ran away, away because because he’s a liar and a fucking coward who turns tail and flees the second anyone challenges the torrent of bullshit spraying from his rancid anus-mouth.
if Donny had a single shred of evidence to back up any one of his lies, he wouldn’t have to throw a piss-baby tantrum and bravely run away, away.
Donny wants us all to forget that he’s already litigated the hell out of the 2020 election. he brought over sixty lawsuits and lost all of them, except for one that went his way on a technicality and didn’t change the outcome. if there were any evidence, Donny’s ace team of parking garage lawyers would have presented it to the courts, six years ago.
Donny’s only ‘evidence’ is his pig-headed belief that ‘if I didn’t win, it must have been rigged.’that’s not how adults face unpleasant news, it’s how babies react to hearing shit they don’t like. getting up and bravely running away, away is also a childish reaction.
what a great idea it was, to hand supreme executive power to some overgrown toddler who never matured past the emotional age of four years old.
now, it was nice to see Kristin Welker actually committing a journalism — which makes it equally disappointing that when it was all over, she did her best to sanewash her own thrashing of Dear Leader.
My interview with President Trump on Friday afternoon was unfortunately complicated by weather issues. In spite of those challenges, we still had a substantial conversation on issues from the Iran war to the economy to the so-called “anti-weaponization” fund. Tune in for the full interview this morning on @MeetThePress.
seriously? why is Kristen Welker calling Donny’s infantile melt-down a ‘substantial conversation’? it was no such thing. yesterday’s broadcast was 46 minutes of Donny lying about every fucking thing, and then blowing up and bravely running away, away when Welkler refused to take bullshit for an answer.
if it were you getting the best of some lying immature diaperload, wouldn’t you crow about it? wouldn’t you take a victory lap? wouldn’t you tweet out something like ‘tune in this morning to watch me fuck Donny’s shit seven ways from breakfast’?
I would.
Donny’s going to be inflicting himself onto Game 3 of the NBA Finals tonight, and I hope the New York crowd boos him mercilessly — because fuck this fucking fuck all the way to Mars for taking what would normally have been a party atmosphere in and around Madison Square Garden and turning the whole area into a maximum security prison.
A strict no-bag policy will be in effect, and fans should make every effort to limit personal items to an absolute minimum. Fans should expect enhanced security measures when entering Madison Square Garden, including TSA-style screening procedures. Guests are strongly encouraged to arrive at least two hours before tip-off to allow additional time for screening and entry.
oh, that’s lovely. instead of a festive sportsball event, it’s going to be a joyless chore. don’t bring any bags, make sure you show up hours in advance and be prepared to be treated like a criminal suspect by government agents.
now seems like a good time to remind everyone that we New Yorkers have hated Donny since before it was cool. hey, can we get Rosie O’Donnell in here for a minute to explain why?
Rosie: “if you grew up in New York, you knew he was an asshole and a liar from day one. and I am sixty-four years old, so I remember when his planes were repossessed off the runways at La Guardia. I remember when he was broke. I remember when he would call up places and pretend to be his own publicist. he is a con man, he is a narcissist, and he is a psychopath.”
reporter: “how do you think he’ll be greeted at MSG tomorrow night?”
Rosie: “with a lot of boos, and I’m happy to hear it.”
where is the lie?
get the fuck back to your fugly Oval Bordello, Donny. nobody wants you here.
this is going to be my closing message for the foreseeable future:
practice self-care. do what you need to do to keep sane. if that means you need to disengage with my daily posts for a while, I get it. this community of ours will still be here when you return.
to all the people who have signed on in the days since the election, welcome aboard. settle in as we all try to deal with the shitfuckery that’s ahead of us.
we are all in this together, and we are all here for each other.
Well, it’s Pride Month, and once again this year, my timeline is filled with performative, pearl-clutching, straight, professed Christians, outraged at the supposed rainbow-bedazzled queer assault on the institution of marriage.
This year, they’re even trying to meme-manifest a “Nuclear Family Month,” which is about as asinine an idea as advocating for “White History Month” every February. Of all the Conservative Christian commentary you’ll ever hear, this is among the most ridiculous: that LGBTQ people marrying somehow devalues a straight, heteronormative couple’s marriage, like a foreclosed house down the street driving down property values in the neighborhood.
Marriage isn’t a community exercise or a collective endeavor; it’s a lifelong agreement between two people before the Law and before friends and loved ones as witnesses. It is a legal document, not a spiritual covenant (unless that coupleclaims faith). The fact that we don’t get to superimpose our religious beliefs on anyone else’s partnership is only a problem for people who also believe they get to police other people’s bodies, bathrooms, and sexual activity.
The two people making their vows to one another are not beholden to anyone but their spouse in honoring, nurturing, or preserving that union after their wedding day. Married people don’t have a Board of Directors or a group of spousal shareholders to answer to here. They have their husband or wife, and the family they create together. They alone get to govern their agreement.
I’ve been married for 32 years now, and during all that time, exactly two people on the planet have had a direct impact on the strength and sanctity of my marriage. Every single day, my wife and I work together diligently to have a vital, honest, loving relationship, and we’re the only ones who can make that happen or keep it from happening—period. The idea that anyone else’s marriage affects ours is fairly ridiculous to both of us, and it should be to anyone fully invested in honoring their own marital vows.
Ultimately, this isn’t about theology; it’s about the fading fine art of minding your own damn business.
For years, I worked as a personal trainer in a boxing gym, and at first, many new clients came in worried about being embarrassed in front of other more fit, more experienced people. I assured them by reminding them that when those people are on the floor, they are so focused on what they’re doing and working so hard that they don’t have the time or energy to be concerned about anyone else; they’re just trying to survive.
It’s too bad more straight Christians don’t seem to give half as much time to attending to their own marriages as they do to overseeing others’. Maybe they wouldn’t be failing 42 percent of the time.
Interestingly, the same folks claiming that gay people are damaging marriage aren’t nearly as vocal about the rampant infidelity, abuse, and divorce out there in so many heterosexual Christian marriages. Magically, they don’t view those people as a threat to the Institution and are quite able to separate themselves from the greater married world when it suits them.
A Facebook acquaintance recently lamented the fact that “the queer agenda is tearing apart the family unit”. I wondered whose “family unit” he was referring to. I know it isn’t mine. My family unit is pretty spectacular and secure because it exists independently of those outside my house, regardless of gender, sexual orientation, or any other possible variable. I have authority and direct influence regarding only one family unit on the planet. That’s how this life works.
To all the perpetually outraged straight Christian couples out there this PRIDE Month, a few reminders for you:
Even if you believe that same-gender marriage is sinful or immoral, claiming that it does any sort of residual collateral damage to you or your spouse or your family says more about the fragility and possibly fraudulence of your relationship than it does about the LGBTQ community as a viable threat.
As much as you claim you want to protect the family unit, the reality is that queer people have family units, too: caring, imperfect, loving, flawed, beautiful ones. They daily navigate complicated relationships with siblings, parents, children, spouses, (and, even, In-Laws). They live lives together in deep community marked by all the compassion, frustration, intimacy, laughter, heartache, and richness that you share with your family.
If you can’t admit and respect that, and if you find yourself somehow threatened by any other person’s pursuit of happiness or expression of family, that’s likely a youproblem. There’s something incredibly troublesome when we as people of faith require others to believe what we believe, or worse, when we act as if their refusal to believe what we believe or practice what we practice in any way diminishes our faith experience or somehow taints our religion.
Straight Christians, when you got married, you didn’t make those flowery vows to all married people, before or since. You didn’t profess your undying love and commitment to an institution. You didn’t expectantly join the ranks of a club or fraternity or corporation. You didn’t get married to Marriage.
You pledged to a person, promising to love your spouse as faithfully, passionately, and completely as you could for the rest of your life. That’s all you are obligated, expected, and most importantly, qualified to do.
The bottom line is that if your marriage is adversely affected by anyone else’s marriage (straight or queer), you probably have a pretty crappy marriage.
That should be cause for great worry, and it’s probably something you should pray on.
Outside of your spouse, the only person who can really damage or devalue your marriage is you.
So, Happy Pride Month, and Happy Mind Your Own Damn Business Month.
Architects: Agustín Hernández Navarro Year: 1973 Photographs: Felipe de Hoyos, Julius Suliman Type: Private House City: Mexico City Country: Mexico
The Amalia Hernández House, designed by Agustín Hernández Navarro in 1973, was created for his sister, renowned dancer and choreographer Amalia Hernández. The house merges rigid geometric forms with organic, curvilinear shapes, reflecting the architect’s unique exploration of space and symbolism. Inspired by 16th-century Mexican convents, the home features sacred uses of light and color to evoke peace and emotion. The design also draws from the spiral structure of nautilus shells, with the interior divided into sections that create fluid, organic forms. This combination of soaring volumes and warm, sensuous shapes gives the house a monumental yet light appearance, blending tradition and modernity.
In 1973, Agustín Hernández Navarro completed a house for his sister, Amalia Hernández, a renowned dancer, choreographer, and founder of the Ballet Folklórico de México. The design showcases a playful juxtaposition of forms, with rigid geometry intersecting more organic, curvilinear shapes.
“Today’s architecture has to have something from yesterday, but much more of tomorrow.” – Agustín Hernández Navarro
A lesser-known aspect of Mexican architect is his poetic work, Gravity, Geometry and Symbolism, where he explores space through concepts like “the fear of vacuums” and the interplay between “positive light and negative shadows.” In these writings, Hernández provides insight into his creative process, explaining how he draws inspiration from symbols found in pre-Columbian archaeological sites and monumental structures of historical significance.
For Amalia Hernández’s house, he drew inspiration from 16th-century convents in Mexico City. He introduced color and light into the interior in a sacred manner, aiming to evoke a sense of peace and comfort. The architect strongly embraced the belief that spaces have the power to evoke emotions.
“My sister wanted a convent-like house, with reclusive, compartmentalized rooms, so we toured a bunch of convents. That’s how I arrived at details like ocular openings, which were my interpretation of 16th-century windows.” – Agustín Hernández Navarro
The design of the house was also influenced by the spiral shape of nautilus shells, which are divided into chambers. Inspired by this form, Hernández divided the interior into sections that generate flowing, organic shapes. This approach allowed him to incorporate sensuous curves, contrasting with the sharp angles typical of his own studio. He also employed creative methods to illuminate the inner gardens, enhancing the fluidity and natural feel of the space.
The house exudes a sense of lightness, with volumes that seem to soar or float, yet it remains distinctly monumental and sharp. On closer inspection, many of the forms are sensual and warm, defying gravity and adding a unique blend of delicacy and strength to the structure.
