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23 Jul Lady Trickster. Let’s Call Her Grief

Posted at 19:50h in Opium, Shadows, Surrender by Mary Rogers 0 Comments
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The Lady Trickster in my life, well, I shall call her grief. When the sun shines brightly and the birds sing, she cunningly leads me to the shadows. These are moments I hate and love all in the same breath...

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15 Jan A Recipe for Healing: Heart Opening Tea, Meditation, and Breath-Work

Posted at 15:35h in Rapture by Mary Rogers 4 Comments
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Recently, I attended a Womenโ€™s Breath Work and Healing Circle. As I have never attended one before, I wasnโ€™t quite sure what to expect...

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Mary Rogers

Poet | Writer | Mystic | Queen

 

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#poetry #morning #morningenchantment #dawn #twilig #poetry #morning #morningenchantment #dawn #twilight #newday #newdawn #cicadas #bird #birds #song #birdsong #moon #sun #stars #poet #poem #morninginspiration #writer #notice #everythingispossible #anythingispossible #nature #natureismychurch #woodsandwander
๐™ฒ๐™ฐ๐š๐™ฝ๐™ฐ๐™ป ๐š๐šŠ๐š™๐š๐šž๐š›๐šŽ โ™ก ๐’‡๐’๐’–๐’Š๐’…๐’Š๐’•๐’š Passion in Movement The rhythm and the beat Bass Pulsing Primal release I am fire, I am flame I've lost control Feral and wild I let myself go And I've never felt so alive Wild, Wild nights - Mary Rogers Glowczwskie ยฉ November 21, 2021
today I wrote a poem about the lunar eclipse and g today I wrote a poem about the lunar eclipse and grief. i submitted it to, @thegriefdialogues and immediately felt a vulnerability hangover come on. most people have a hard time embracing grief while someone is in the midst of complete anguish. most prefer to read about the precious memories or the healing that comes after. this wasn't one of those poems. it was written while feeling the full impact of a swell of grief that knocked the wind out of me. i'm honestly not sure if it will be accepted - but i think when it comes to grief, we have to honor these moments too. the moments when we feel like an animal, wounded. the moments when the air gets sucked from our lungs. because it's part of the process and the truth is - there's really no way to wrap a pretty bow around it when we feel the despair of missing. of longing. ๐Ÿ“ธ M. Dylan/Europa Press via Getty Images
๐™ผ๐™พ๐™พ๐™ฝ ๐™ผ๐š„๐š‚๐™ธ๐™ฝ๐™ถ๐š‚ โ™ก ๐™ผ๐™พ๐™พ๐™ฝ ๐™ผ๐š„๐š‚๐™ธ๐™ฝ๐™ถ๐š‚ โ™ก last night the moon haloed, rung after rung after rung. and it was magical. especially as i was able to witness it with my sister, @ravenpoolgal , who was here visiting. it was her last night here before traversing back to idaho. "sometimes i feel like there's a hole inside of me, an emptiness that at times seems to burn. i think if you lifted my heart to your ear, you could probably hear the ocean. the moon tonight, there's a circle around it [...] i have this dream of being whole. of not going to sleep each night, wanting. but still, sometimes, when the wind is warm or the crickets sing, i dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for. i just want someone to love me. i want to be seen [...] but there's only that moon." - practical magic
#youth #aginggracefully #nostalgia #feral #primal #youth #aginggracefully #nostalgia #feral #primal #wild #wildlife #sun #stars #moon #journal #journalexcerpts #thisisme #2amthoughts #hedonism #rapture #ecstacy #thisonewildandpreciouslife #writer #writerslife #writing #woodsandwander
๐™ฐ๐š—๐š ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ๐šข ๐šŒ๐šŠ๐š•๐š•๐šŽ ๐™ฐ๐š—๐š ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ๐šข ๐šŒ๐šŠ๐š•๐š•๐šŽ๐š ๐š’๐š ๐š™๐šž๐š™๐š™๐šข ๐š•๐š˜๐šŸ๐šŽ...
i'm excited to announce, the third anthology i've i'm excited to announce, the third anthology i've contributed to, with @indiebluepublishing , and the second anthology published this year, is now available in kindle, paperback, and hard cover editions on amazon and in paperback and eBook editions on pothi (india). it should be available from all major online book retailers within the week.
๐ญ๐ก๐ž ๐ž๐ฌ๐ฌ๐š๐ฒ ๐ข ๐ฐ๐ซ๐จ๐ญ๐ž, ๐๐ž๐๐ข๐œ๐š๐ญ๐ž๐ ๐ญ๐จ ๐ฆ๐ฒ ๐ฉ๐š๐ซ๐ž๐ง๐ญ๐ฌ, ๐›๐จ๐ญ๐ก ๐จ๐Ÿ ๐ฐ๐ก๐จ๐ฆ ๐ก๐š๐ฏ๐ž ๐ฉ๐š๐ฌ๐ฌ๐ž๐ ๐š๐ฐ๐š๐ฒ, ๐ฐ๐š๐ฌ ๐š๐œ๐œ๐ž๐ฉ๐ญ๐ž๐ ๐š๐ง๐ ๐ข๐ฌ ๐›๐ž๐ข๐ง๐  ๐ฉ๐ฎ๐›๐ฅ๐ข๐ฌ๐ก๐ž๐ ๐ข๐ง ๐ข๐๐š๐ก๐จ ๐ฆ๐š๐ ๐š๐ณ๐ข๐ง๐ž, ๐ฃ๐š๐ง๐ฎ๐š๐ซ๐ฒ ๐Ÿ๐ŸŽ๐Ÿ๐Ÿ. ๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ฌ ๐ฆ๐ž๐š๐ง๐ฌ ๐ž๐ฏ๐ž๐ซ๐ฒ๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ง๐  ๐ญ๐จ ๐ฆ๐ž โ™ก
๐™ณ๐™พ๐™ถ ๐™ผ๐™พ๐™ผ โ™ก ๐™บ๐š’๐šœ๐š”๐šŠ ๐™ณ๐™พ๐™ถ ๐™ผ๐™พ๐™ผ โ™ก ๐™บ๐š’๐šœ๐š”๐šŠ (๐Ÿท๐Ÿน๐šข๐š› ๐š˜๐š•๐š ๐šˆ๐š˜๐š›๐š”๐š’๐šŽ-๐™ฟ๐š˜๐š˜), ๐™ฝ๐šŠ๐š•๐šŠ (๐Ÿท ๐šข๐š› ๐š˜๐š•๐š ๐™ถ๐šŽ๐š›๐š–๐šŠ๐š— ๐š‚๐š‘๐šŽ๐š™๐š‘๐šŽ๐š›๐š/๐™ป๐šŠ๐š‹ ๐š–๐š’๐šก), ๐šŠ๐š—๐š ๐š‚๐š‘๐šŠ๐š๐š˜๐š  ๐™ผ๐š˜๐š˜๐š— (๐Ÿพ ๐š ๐šŽ๐šŽ๐š” ๐™ฟ๐š’๐š๐š‹๐šž๐š•๐š•/๐™ผ๐šŠ๐šœ๐š๐š’๐š๐š ๐š–๐š’๐šก)
"๐šŠ๐š—๐š ๐š˜๐š—๐šŽ ๐š๐šŠ๐šข, ๐šŠ๐šž๐š๐šž๐š–๐š— ๐š๐šŽ๐š•๐š• ๐šž๐š™๐š˜๐š— ๐šž๐šœ, ๐š•๐š’๐š”๐šŽ ๐šŠ ๐šœ๐š‘๐šŠ๐š๐š˜๐š  ๐š˜๐š— ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š–๐š˜๐š˜๐š—..." - ๐š–๐šŠ๐š›๐šข ๐š›๐š˜๐š๐šŽ๐š›๐šœ ๐š๐š•๐š˜๐š ๐šŒ๐šฃ๐š ๐šœ๐š”๐š’๐šŽ โ™ก
๐šƒ๐™พ๐™ณ๐™ฐ๐šˆ'๐š‚ ๐š๐™ฐ๐™ฝ๐šƒ have y ๐šƒ๐™พ๐™ณ๐™ฐ๐šˆ'๐š‚ ๐š๐™ฐ๐™ฝ๐šƒ have you noticed how people don't really talk to other people, these days? instead, people talk ๐’‚๐’• other people. it's rare to find someone who actually wants to join a discussion - to try and understand someone else's point of view. instead, i'm finding people would rather argue ๐’•๐’‰๐’†๐’Š๐’“ point of views, opinions, and perspectives. when did communication become a matter of, "i'm right, you're wrong," versus a curious conversation of, "i would like to understand your perspective better. will you elaborate?" and even at the end of the discussion, if we come away still disagreeing, why can't people simply agree to disagree? it's very narcissistic to think that the whole world should think, believe, and behave as you do, isn't it? i mean, isn't one of the best parts of being alive is to experience diversity? the fact that we can be comrades in arms, be unique and stand alone, and sometimes even play the part of devils advocate? i have no desire to live in a cookie-cutter society with cookie-cut people. i want to see individuality. sovereignty. i enjoy seeing people study and research - to ask questions. to determine what they feel is best for them. and to openly change their mind at any given time. that's being human ๐’‚๐’๐’… divine. one can be passionate without being condescending. i like people who think for themselves. who think outside the box. verses the people who simply go along with the majority and have no idea why. i love those who are open. curious. and i don't understand why, as a society, we have not become more evolved? especially in a time when consciousness is rising. it seems such an archaic way of being. and truly, these days, i'm finding it harder and harder to swallow the better than thou bullshit. people can be utterly exhausting or beautifully insightful and inspiring. what kind of human are you? anyway, that's my rant for the day. time to go back into my cave and hermit for awhile โ™ก
๐™ต๐™ธ๐š๐™ด๐™ต๐™ป๐™ธ๐™ด๐š‚ & ๐™ต๐™ฐ๐™ธ๐š๐šˆ๐šƒ๐™ฐ๐™ป๐™ด๐š‚ | Mary Rogers Glowczwskie | ๐šƒ๐™ฐ๐™ผ๐™ฟ๐™ฐ ๐š๐™ด๐š…๐™ธ๐™ด๐š† ๐Ÿผ๐Ÿท/๐Ÿผ๐Ÿธ ๐’‘๐’–๐’ƒ๐’๐’Š๐’”๐’‰๐’†๐’… โ™ก
๐™ผ๐™พ๐™พ๐™ฝ ๐™ผ๐š„๐š‚๐™ธ๐™ฝ๐™ถ๐š‚ โ™ก ๐™ผ๐™พ๐™พ๐™ฝ ๐™ผ๐š„๐š‚๐™ธ๐™ฝ๐™ถ๐š‚ โ™ก . i have been really under the weather. finally received my covid results, and i am negative. apparently, i have a head cold that has been exasperated by my breast infection. i met with the surgeon yesterday and we at least have a [beginning] plan of action. meanwhile, while I woke up, today, finally feeling an actual human , i can't seem to rid myself of this debilitating fatigue. i've slept more over the past week that i possibly have all month. maybe it's the change of seasons? i woke to rain yesterday and my heart felt so happy. i am a mid-season person. spring and fall bring me life. . because of my health struggles, i have been using my limited awake time to continue studying herbalism. i have become obsessed with plant medicine and herbal teas. goldenseal, ginger, organic local honey, lemon, and echinacea combined are extremely powerful medicines during the cold & flu seasons. and they contain antiviral properties. i've also been loading up on zinc, d3, vitamin c, and elderberry syrup. . i've been drinking golden milk, made with tumeric, daily (with almond, coconut, oat, or cashew milk + local honey and black pepper). tumeric is an anti-inflammatory medicine and aids with bacterial infections. oh, and i've been literally adding garlic to every dish i cook. it's one of the best things you can do for your health. your body will thank you โ™ก
๐™ผ๐™พ๐™พ๐™ฝ ๐™ผ๐š„๐š‚๐™ธ๐™ฝ๐™ถ๐š‚ โ™ก ๐™ผ๐™พ๐™พ๐™ฝ ๐™ผ๐š„๐š‚๐™ธ๐™ฝ๐™ถ๐š‚ โ™ก ๐’•๐’๐’…๐’‚๐’š'๐’” ๐’‹๐’๐’–๐’“๐’๐’‚๐’ ๐’†๐’๐’•๐’“๐’š . the tides of my life are changing, once more. it's interesting how this happens, isn't it? i am a seeker; an inner reflector. and yet, about two years ago, i had fallen so deep into the rabbit hole, it's taken me almost that long to come back into myself - only, changed. i did so much transformative healing and research that mask after mask began to shed. ego death after ego death in such rapid succession that i no longer knew who i was anymore. i was no one, and yet, i was everyone - all within the same breath. i had a crisis of identity and a crisis of faith. . i had emerged from the dogma of the heavily doctrinated religion i was born into, moving fluidly, into spirituality. so much to unlock and unlearn. until i once again came to the decision that the "spiritual community" no longer served me. and as i spiraled, stumbled, and ultimately fell - i became acutely aware of all the ways mother gaia held me and nurtured me - rendered me whole. i have talked openly about my studies into mysticism, druidry, mediumship, constellations, nature, animals, and the old ways. the visions and longings of my soul - as well as the magic of words and poetry and how i often feel more animal than human. . and i realized that while i thought i was entering another tower moment (or another dark night of my soul), what was truly happening was acceptance and integration. i had to become aligned with what i truly feel and believe in order to be confident in speaking my truth. and while none of this was apparent at the time, what i did come to understand was that the purpose of life is to be happy, and in order to become truly happy, healing was necessary. for happiness begins and ends with the self, internally. lasting happiness cannot come from an external source. . i began to really contemplate what lit my soul ablaze and the first recognition of bliss was my writing. and yet, that seemed almost too simple, though in truth, words have always held magic in my heart. creating and crafting and all forms of artistic expression are likely the purest essence of my soul.
๐šƒ๐™ท๐š๐™พ๐š„๐™ถ๐™ท ๐šƒ๐™ท๐™ด ๐™ป๐™พ ๐šƒ๐™ท๐š๐™พ๐š„๐™ถ๐™ท ๐šƒ๐™ท๐™ด ๐™ป๐™พ๐™พ๐™บ๐™ธ๐™ฝ๐™ถ ๐™ถ๐™ป๐™ฐ๐š‚๐š‚ ๐™ธ๐š‚ ๐™ฝ๐™พ๐š† ๐™ฐ๐š…๐™ฐ๐™ธ๐™ป๐™ฐ๐™ฑ๐™ป๐™ด ๐™พ๐™ฝ ๐™ฐ๐™ผ๐™ฐ๐š‰๐™พ๐™ฝ ๐™ต๐™พ๐š ๐™ฟ๐š„๐š๐™ฒ๐™ท๐™ฐ๐š‚๐™ด โ™ก i have two poems in this anthology: - Ancestral Bones - Through the Looking Glass this is the 2nd anthology i have been published in through @indiebluepublishing
#memoir #journals #responsibility #selflove #story #memoir #journals #responsibility #selflove #storyofmylife #storytelling #truestory #vulnerability #vulnerabilityisstrength #selfworth #writingislife #writingmyownstory #writer #truth #truthbomb #loveyourself #maryrogersglowczwskie #woodsandwander #wildlife #oracle #mystic #thisonewildandpreciouslife
๐šƒ๐™พ๐™ณ๐™ฐ๐šˆ'๐š‚ ๐š…๐™ธ๐™ฑ๐™ด๐š‚ ๐Ÿพ ๐’”๐’‰๐’† ๐’ˆ๐’†๐’•๐’” ๐’Ž๐’†
๐™ฐ ๐™ฑ๐™ด๐™ฐ๐š„๐šƒ๐™ธ๐™ต๐š„๐™ป ๐™ด๐š‡ ๐™ฐ ๐™ฑ๐™ด๐™ฐ๐š„๐šƒ๐™ธ๐™ต๐š„๐™ป ๐™ด๐š‡๐™ฟ๐™ด๐š๐™ธ๐™ด๐™ฝ๐™ฒ๐™ด ๐Ÿฆ ๐’๐’ ๐’Ž๐’‚๐’•๐’•๐’†๐’“ ๐’‰๐’๐’˜ ๐’‡๐’๐’†๐’†๐’•๐’Š๐’๐’ˆ Yesterday was a beautiful day. The sun was stretching her warmth like limbs after a long period of hibernation. The birds were singing the day away and a symphony of different chirps and caws were echoing from tall peaks of pine. I opened all the windows and front door and allowed the breeze to move through the house in a beautiful spring waltz - moving out the stale energy of winter and replacing it with the fresh buds of hope - waking like a newborn babe whose eyes haven't yet focused on the vast world around them. I was on the phone catching up with a dear friend when suddenly a tiny bird flew into the house - darting straight for the kitchen. I got off the phone, wondering how I was going to persuade and direct the tiny bird back into the great outdoors. I moved very slowly as to not startle or frighten the bird. It was perched on the kitchen windowsill. I noticed how tiny and fragile it was with tail feathers that looked something like a dream. It looked at me, chirped twice, and instinctively flew back out the way it came. The whole experience lasted only moments but felt so sacred. It was so quick, in fact, that it held the magic and mystery of a dream. I don't know what kind of bird it was and I didn't stop to look up the "spiritual" significance, like I once may have done. Instead, what came was a small whisper reciting Emily Dickinson, "Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul..." ๐Ÿ“ธ Marisa Mulligan
๐™ผ๐šˆ ๐š†๐™พ๐š๐™ป๐™ณ ๐™ธ๐™ฝ ๐™ฐ ๐™ป๐™ธ๐š‚๐šƒ ๐Ÿฅ€ ๐’„๐’‚๐’‘๐’•๐’–๐’“๐’†๐’… ๐’Ž๐’๐’Ž๐’†๐’๐’•๐’” & ๐’“๐’‚๐’๐’…๐’๐’Ž ๐’•๐’‰๐’๐’–๐’ˆ๐’‰๐’•๐’” 1. I overdid it last week. I had 3 doctors appointments, countless insurance calls, went to a friend's surprise birthday party, and attended a BBQ with friends. While I enjoyed myself immensely AND will FINALLY be receiving the supplies for my c-pap, it left me utterly exhausted and fatigued. The last 2 days have primarily consisted of sleep, rest, and lots and lots of heat. 2. I woke up this morning with clarity as though I've just been rescued from a rolling fog adrift a lonely and tumultuous sea. 3. In my coma of exhaustion, a plot that I've been struggling with came to life and worked itself out. I'm excited to dive back into the story - back into the writing - after taking a month long hiatus as inspiration became elusive. 4. My last few posts (on Facebook) weren't very "positive," though they consisted of my current struggles with depression and where I've been. I had a lot of fear around posting - especially so publically. Yet, as someone who prides myself on living my life outloud, I chose to share and it felt vulnerable. It was uncomfortable. I flayed open my heart for all to witness and see. I worried about how I would be received. While I received an outpouring of love, 12 people chose to unfollow me. I will not take this personally. 5. I hate cliches and yet here I am. The sun will always rise, no matter how dark the night. A rainbow will always follow the storm. There is always a path, a way out from the dark night of the soul. Sometimes we have to stand still long enough to allow our eyes to adjust. It's like stepping into a lake. The water is murky so long as we move. In stillness comes clarity. In stillness, we will see the constellations mapped across our hearts, leading our souls back home. ๐Ÿ“ธ IG @tinathelen
๐™ธ'๐š…๐™ด ๐™ถ๐™พ๐™ฝ๐™ด ๐š‚๐™ธ๐™ป๐™ด๐™ฝ๐šƒ ๐Ÿฅ€ ๐’‚๐’๐’… ๐’”๐’ ๐’Ž๐’‚๐’๐’š ๐’‰๐’‚๐’—๐’† ๐’“๐’†๐’‚๐’„๐’‰๐’†๐’… ๐’๐’–๐’• ๐’•๐’ ๐’‚๐’”๐’Œ ๐’˜๐’‰๐’š. ๐‘ป๐’ ๐’‚๐’”๐’Œ ๐’Š๐’‡ ๐‘ฐ'๐’Ž ๐’…๐’๐’Š๐’๐’ˆ ๐’‚๐’๐’“๐’Š๐’ˆ๐’‰๐’•. ๐“๐ก๐ž ๐ญ๐ซ๐ฎ๐ญ๐ก ๐ข๐ฌ, ๐ˆ'๐ฏ๐ž ๐›๐ž๐ž๐ง ๐ฆ๐š๐ฉ๐ฉ๐ข๐ง๐  & ๐ง๐š๐ฏ๐ข๐ ๐š๐ญ๐ข๐ง๐  ๐ญ๐ก๐ž ๐ž๐ฆ๐จ๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง๐š๐ฅ ๐ฐ๐š๐ญ๐ž๐ซ๐ฌ ๐จ๐Ÿ ๐ฆ๐ฒ ๐ฌ๐จ๐ฎ๐ฅ. ๐€๐ง๐ ๐ข๐ญ'๐ฌ ๐ญ๐š๐ค๐ž๐ง ๐ž๐ฏ๐ž๐ซ๐ฒ๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ง๐  ๐ข๐ง ๐ฆ๐ž ๐ง๐จ๐ญ ๐ญ๐จ ๐๐ซ๐จ๐ฐ๐ง - ๐ง๐จ๐ญ ๐ญ๐จ ๐ฅ๐จ๐ฌ๐ž ๐ฌ๐ข๐ ๐ก๐ญ ๐จ๐Ÿ ๐ญ๐ก๐ž ๐š๐ญ๐ฅ๐š๐ฌ ๐š๐ง๐ ๐œ๐จ๐ง๐ฌ๐ญ๐ž๐ฅ๐ฅ๐š๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง๐ฌ ๐›๐ฎ๐ซ๐ข๐ž๐ ๐๐ž๐ž๐ฉ ๐ฐ๐ข๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ง ๐ฆ๐ฒ ๐›๐จ๐ง๐ž๐ฌ - ๐ฅ๐ž๐š๐๐ข๐ง๐  ๐ฆ๐ž ๐›๐š๐œ๐ค ๐ญ๐จ ๐ฌ๐ก๐จ๐ซ๐ž - ๐›๐š๐œ๐ค ๐ญ๐จ ๐ฌ๐ญ๐ข๐ฅ๐ฅ ๐ฐ๐š๐ญ๐ž๐ซ๐ฌ. ๐ˆ'๐ฏ๐ž ๐š๐ฅ๐ฌ๐จ ๐ซ๐ž๐ญ๐ฎ๐ซ๐ง๐ž๐ ๐ญ๐จ ๐ฐ๐ซ๐ข๐ญ๐ข๐ง๐ . ๐’๐จ ๐ฆ๐š๐ง๐ฒ ๐ฐ๐จ๐ซ๐๐ฌ ๐ซ๐ฎ๐ฌ๐ก๐ข๐ง๐  ๐ญ๐จ๐ฐ๐š๐ซ๐๐ฌ ๐š๐ข๐ซ ๐š๐ง๐ ๐ฅ๐ข๐Ÿ๐ž - ๐ญ๐จ ๐ญ๐š๐ค๐ž ๐›๐ซ๐ž๐š๐ญ๐ก ๐š๐ง๐ ๐Ÿ๐ฅ๐ข๐ ๐ก๐ญ - ๐ญ๐จ ๐›๐ž๐œ๐จ๐ฆ๐ž ๐ซ๐ž๐š๐ฅ. ๐‘จ๐’๐’… ๐’•๐’‰๐’†๐’š ๐’‚๐’“๐’† ๐’“๐’†๐’‚๐’. ๐“๐ก๐ž๐ฒ ๐ก๐š๐ฏ๐ž ๐š ๐ฏ๐จ๐ข๐œ๐ž. ๐Œ๐ฒ ๐ฏ๐จ๐ข๐œ๐ž. ๐“๐ก๐จ๐ฎ๐ ๐ก ๐ข๐ญ'๐ฌ ๐Ÿ๐ฎ๐ฅ๐ฅ ๐จ๐Ÿ ๐ฆ๐ฒ๐ฌ๐ญ๐ž๐ซ๐ฒ ๐š๐ง๐ ๐ฆ๐š๐ฒ๐ก๐ž๐ฆ- ๐ข๐ญ'๐ฌ ๐š๐ฅ๐ฌ๐จ ๐š๐›๐จ๐ฎ๐ญ ๐š๐ฐ๐š๐ค๐ž๐ง๐ข๐ง๐  ๐š๐ง๐ ๐๐ซ๐ž๐š๐ฆ๐ฌ ๐’‚๐’๐’… ๐’Ž๐’‚๐’ˆ๐’Š๐’„. ๐Œ๐š๐ฒ๐›๐ž ๐ฆ๐จ๐ซ๐ž ๐ญ๐ก๐š๐ง ๐ฐ๐จ๐ซ๐๐ฌ ๐š๐ง๐ ๐ฏ๐จ๐ข๐œ๐ž, ๐ข๐ญ'๐ฌ ๐›๐ž๐ž๐ง ๐š ๐ฌ๐ข๐ซ๐ž๐ง ๐ฌ๐จ๐ง๐ . ๐’๐ข๐ง๐ ๐ข๐ง๐  ๐ฆ๐ž ๐ก๐จ๐ฆ๐ž ๐š๐ง๐ ๐จ๐ฎ๐ญ ๐จ๐Ÿ ๐ญ๐ก๐ž ๐๐š๐ซ๐ค๐ง๐ž๐ฌ๐ฌ - ๐œ๐ฅ๐ž๐š๐ง๐ฌ๐ž๐ ๐Ÿ๐ซ๐จ๐ฆ ๐ฆ๐ฒ ๐ญ๐š๐ข๐ง๐ญ๐ž๐ ๐ก๐ž๐š๐ซ๐ญ ๐š๐ง๐ ๐ฆ๐ฎ๐ซ๐ค๐ฒ ๐ฌ๐จ๐ฎ๐ฅ. ๐ˆ ๐ฆ๐š๐ฒ ๐ก๐š๐ฏ๐ž ๐๐ซ๐จ๐ฐ๐ง๐ž๐ ๐จ๐ง ๐ญ๐ก๐ž ๐‘๐ข๐ฏ๐ž๐ซ ๐’๐ญ๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐›๐ฎ๐ญ ๐ˆ ๐œ๐ฅ๐š๐ฐ๐ž๐ ๐ฆ๐ฒ ๐ฐ๐š๐ฒ ๐›๐š๐œ๐ค ๐ญ๐จ ๐ฌ๐จ๐ฅ๐ข๐ ๐ ๐ซ๐จ๐ฎ๐ง๐. ๐™ธ ๐™ฐ๐™ผ ๐™ท๐™ด๐š๐™ด & ๐šˆ๐™ด๐šƒ, ๐™ธ ๐™ฐ๐™ผ ๐™ฝ๐™พ๐šƒ. ๐’ƒ๐’–๐’• ๐’•๐’‚๐’Œ๐’† ๐’‰๐’†๐’‚๐’“๐’•, ๐’‚๐’” ๐‘ฐ ๐’‚๐’Ž ๐’”๐’–๐’“๐’† ๐’˜๐’† ๐’˜๐’Š๐’๐’ ๐’Ž๐’†๐’†๐’• ๐’๐’†๐’˜ ๐’—๐’†๐’“๐’”๐’Š๐’๐’๐’” ๐’๐’‡ ๐’†๐’‚๐’„๐’‰ ๐’๐’•๐’‰๐’†๐’“, ๐’‹๐’–๐’”๐’• ๐’‚๐’“๐’๐’–๐’๐’… ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’ƒ๐’†๐’๐’….
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