difficult ( left ): you  are  a  very  difficult  person  to  get  along  with  ( 62.86%. )

likeable ( right ): you  are  a  somewhat  likeable  person  ( 45%. )

the  ghost  —  it's  an  odd  thing,  to  feel  so  far  from  grounded  and  yet  trapped,  tethered,  unable  to  escape.  there's  more  you  have  to  do!  so  why  can't  you  move?  i'm  sure  you  have  an  answer  to  that,  at  the  very  least  in  the  back  of  your  mind.  people  love  to  say  that  ghosts  hold  grudges  or  haunt  for  revenge  but  they  always  get  it  wrong;  you're  stuck  because  something  or  someone  chained  you  down  and  left  you  there.  you  try  and  reach  out  to  all  those  bright  people  who  pass  through  your  life,  but  it  rarely  feels  like  it  does  much  more  than  knock  a  cup  off  the  table,  blow  some  papers  into  the  air.  i  need  you  to  trust  me  -  they  see  it.  they're  listening.  they'll  keep  looking  for  you  and,  eventually,  they'll  be  able  to  see  you  too.

the  nocturne:  the  rise  —  there  is  a  darkness  which  has  tormented  you,  and  the  genius  lament  burdens  you,  but  fear  not...  you  are  the  pull  of  the  tide  and  the  light  of  the  moon  on  a  winter  path.  you  are  the  soft  notes  which  increase  in  intensity  till  the  pianist  pours  over  the  keys  with  such  passion  it  can  only  bring  tears  to  your  eyes.  you  cannot  do  things  halfway  though  you  yearn  for  it,  and  you  envy  those  blessed  with  blissful  ignorance,  but  in  the  end  you  know  you'd  not  have  it  any  other  way  —  you  are  the  rise  they  are  afraid  of  till  they  cannot  look  away.  your  song :  nocturne  in  c  minor  by  chopin.

somewhere  else  —  what  is  known  is  what  is  safe.  your  fear  is  never  inside  you,  always  somewhere  else.  your  home  is  the  best  place  in  the  world;  all  other  places  are  scary.  the  people  you  already  know  are  better  than  anyone  else.  so  you  go  on,  playing  with  broken  toys,  wearing  dead  people's  clothes.  you  can  be  torn  down  to  shreds,  abused,  tortured  and  miserable.  but  at  least  you  know  where  it  comes  from,  which  gives  you  a  sense  of  comfort  and  even  control.  the  unknown  hides  dangers  you  don't  understand,  so  it  scares  you.  but  alongside  the  dangers,  you  miss  the  wonder,  adventures  and  opportunities  that  you  could've  otherwise  had.  my  guess  is  that  you've  dealt  with  grief  and  loss.

the  revenant  —  at  some  point  in  recent  years,  you  suffered  what  felt  to  you  like  a  'death',  whether  creative,  social,  emotional,  spiritual  or  even  literal,  and  you've  been  reborn.  this  reincarnation  didn't  come  easy,  and  you're  not  entirely  the  person  you  were,  but  you  sloughed  yourself  out  of  your  figurative  grave  with  the  kind  of  vigour  only  a  phoenix  could  have.  when  you  sleep,  you  dream  strange  and  vivid  dreams,  and  your  gaze  now  holds  a  certain  intensity.  when  something  takes  your  attention,  it  doesn't  let  go.  your  kindness  is  endless,  as  is  your  love  for  vast  things  like  the  sea,  the  sky  and  the  stars.  you  have  a  certain  unshakable  fixation  with  religion  or  higher  powers,  and  the  prospect  of  death  doesn't  scare  you.  in  fact,  you  feel  less  fear  than  you  should,  and  you've  never  felt  more  alive  than  you  do  now.  as  a  deity,  you're  the  god  of  life  and  death,  of  moving  on,  of  growth  and  of  courage.

—  sage  / /  herb  clippings,  macha,  bullet  journals,  mini  backpacks,  needlefelts,  pistachio,  laptop stickers.  your  essence  is  sage:  you  are  introspective  and  retreating.  everything  is  organised  and  planned  ahead;  you  are  meticulous,  stacking  up  a  card  tower  you  can't  let  fall.  it  is  difficult  for  you  to  untwist  your  tongue  and  tell  others  you  need  them.  you  are  the  observer.  you  are  the  writer  gone  off  alone.  you  find  kinship  in  like-minded  individuals  of  green,  forest,  honeysuckle,  and  seafoam,  who  share  your  guarded  nature.  you  are  also  drawn  to  the  self-expressive  sky  and  apricot,  who  will  help  you  grow  and  embolden  you  to  say  what  you  need.  however,  you  may  struggle  to  get  along  with  the  overly-emotional  personalities  of  rose  and  cream  who  ask  you  to  be  too  vulnerable.

bloodied knuckles  /  tear-stained cheeks  /  rust  /  a busted lip  /  claws  /  fangs  /  a bloody nose  /  chattering teeth  /  a dark space underneath the bed  /  scratching noises on a wall  /  creaking metal  /  fog  /  dancing under moonlight  /  blood dripping lips  /  heavy breathing in the dark  /  a feeling of unexplained dread  /  a figure in a dark corner  /  dirty peeling wallpaper  /  a bloody hand print on the wall  /  sobbing in the dark  /  bite marks on the skin  /  eerie whispers  /  a hood covering a stranger’s eyes  /  the growl of a hidden animal /  the sound of a blade being sharpened  /  a deep, dark forest /  walking on the streets alone at night  /  a cobweb-filled, abandoned building  /  eyes darting in paranoia  /  a heavy beating pulse  /  the feeling of being trapped  /  struggling to get out a scream  /  boards covering broken windows /  a quiet graveyard  /  a gas station in the middle of nowhere  /  a road that never ends  /  heavy fog rolling in  /  the scent of blood in the air  /  eerie old photographs  /  walking along train tracks at night  /  a chill going up the spine  /  gathering crows  /  a dusty, dimly lit study  /  mist over a deserted cobblestone street  /  ghost towns  /  shadows around a campfire  /  the sound of chanting  /  church bells tolling  /  an orange harvest moon  /  a broken down carnival  /  a dirty stuffed animal abandoned  /  wiping bloody hands on fabric  /  nightmares  /  waking up in a panic  /  a power outage  /  heavy lightning storms  /  a secret trap door  /  the feeling of being watched  /  fear from trauma  /  a ouija board set out on a table  /  an eerie doll  /  a scream of anguish and pain  /  withered plants  /  a room that’s been forgotten and gathered dust  /  owl eyes in the dark  /  curled, dead tree branches  /  a ritual altar  /  flickering candles  /  a lantern held up in the dark  /  fear of being followed  /  creaking floorboards  /  repressed, horrible memories  /  clenched teeth  /  soft, echoing piano keys  /  an old book covered in dust  /  many pairs of glaring eyes  /  stumbling in pitch black darkness  /  being stranded in the middle of nowhere  /  tarot cards on a table  /  a trail of blood.

foggy  —  you've  never  felt  as  alone  as  you  do  now,  but  maybe  you've  always  felt  like  this.  it  doesn't  matter  if  you're  with  a  group  or  by  yourself,  the  loneliness  stays  with  you  always,  it's  seeped  into  your  bones.  or  has  it?  are  you  as  alone  as  you  think  or  are  you  clinging  on  to  this  pit  inside  you  like  it  has  the  answers?  it  doesn't,  know  that.  it's  okay  to  feel  joy  again,  it's  okay  to  feel  okay.

righteously  evil  —  you've  been  hurt.  what  you're  doing  is  wrong.  there  is  no  doubt.  but  it's  what  you  need  to  do.  you  were  not  going  to  roll  over  and  let  it  just  happen.  so  you  did  what  you  had  to.  and  you  will  continue  doing  what  you  had  to.  when  you  die,  its  with  fury  in  your  eyes.  your  opponent  says  you're  stubborn,  having  kept  this  up  for  this  long.  you  laugh,  and  spit  in  their  face.  you  curse  them  until  your  very  last  breath.

somnolence  —  you  are  so  tired.  you  keep  going  and  going  and  its  killing  you.  you  feel  pushed  to  keep  going  but  you  are  exhausted,  barely  clinging  on.  you  need  rest  before  you  drain  yourself  completely.

aphrodite.    laughter-loving, sweet smiles, dressed in silk and satin, flower in their hair, sees the world as a runway, unapologetically sexual, the sea washing their ankles, in love with love, stirrer of passion, cunning concealed by painted lips, secret daggers, doves, revolution in their kiss, delighting in the waves, flirtatious winks, strolling along the beach, staring wistfully from a balcony, this is how to be a heartbreaker, wants to be adored, gets turned on by danger.

apollo.     glitz and glamour, art galleries, turning the volume up, being made of gold, neatly-organized music sheets, notebooks filled with poetry, bathing in the sunlight, the powerful urge to create, collecting vinyl records, beautiful cover of wonderwall, playing multiple instruments, tasting like sunshine, healing touch, speaking in prophecies, smile mingled with wrath, shunning lies, sporting shades, hanging out at music festivals with their friends, sleeps naked, arrow to the heart, paint brushes, probably has a tinder account.

ares.     armed for battle, wants to raise a dog with their significant other, soft spot for children, gives piggyback rides, scarred body, blood on their hands and face, willing to fight the world for the ones they love, fights against injustice, warm hugs, well-worn combat boots, boxing gloves, bandages wrapped around bruised knuckles, fist raised in protest, ignites revolutions, fear is a prison, more sensitive than what their tough shell would have you think, exhausted, damaged goods, force to be reckoned with, red roses, curses under their breath.

artemis.     keen sense of a hunter, freckles like constellations on their skin, piercing eyes, dishevelled braid, moonlight peeking through the shadows, the calm of the forest at night, lying on the grass and staring at the stars, mother doe and her fawn, protecting their kin, the moon shimmering on a still lake, quiver full of arrows resting against the bark of a tree, running with wolves, bonding while circled around a campfire, not being much of a people person, arrow hitting a target, popping egos, patience on 3%, touches heaven and returns howling.

athena.     discerning gaze, unreadable face, quiet museums, owl perched on their finger, armour that intimidates, eye for architecture, plays the sims for the sole purpose of building houses, studied the blade while everyone else was busy getting laid, big fan of logic, loves brain teasers, ancient buildings, sweaters in neutrals and cool colours, hair done up, can kill you with their brain, heads to the library often to research, sharpened pencils, abs that can cut steel, stoic statues, pottery classes.

demeter.     soil-covered hands, smile that can bloom flowers, skin loved by the sun, being the mom-friend, can lift you and your friends, flowers kept in the pockets of overalls, takes pride in their beautiful garden, speaks to their plants, leaves rustling in the wind, stalks of wheat, picking fruit, greenhouses, heart as strong as a mountain, values simplicity, daisies dotted across a collarbone, curls crowned with flowers, folded pile of sweaters in warm hues, pulling out fresh-baked bread out of the oven and the smell wafting through the air.

dionysus.     drunk shitposter, on their sixth glass of wine before you’ve even finished your second, seductive smirks, untamed curls, rich fabrics on dark skin, sleek-furred panthers, theatre masks, stage productions, receiving a standing ovation, rose caught between their teeth, being the baby of the bunch, wild parties that last from sundown to sunup, creeping vines, inspiring loyalty, grand opera houses, masquerade balls, rolls of film, shattered chandeliers with broken glass scattered across the wine-spilled floor, pouring champagne into flutes, lives for the applause.

hephaestus.     the calloused hands of someone who knows labour, sweaty brow, flame burning in their eyes, inventive mind, broad shoulders, steampunk goggles, nuts and bolts stored away in little boxes, ashes, striking a match, blueprints for future projects, fixing up a busted up car and giving it cool upgrades, wrestles with bitterness, work boots have seen better years, wrinkled plaid shirts, iron melted in blazing fire, huge jackets, crafting masterpieces, greased-stained overalls, fascination with robotics, pain is fuel, stack of weaponry, even their muscles have muscles.

hera.     resting bitch face, dressed to the nines, cows grazing on a pasture, cool rain, loving and hating fiercely, hand clutching a string of pearls, large chandelier with glittering crystals, plays the sims for the sole purpose of killing off their sims, romance to realism, pictures of the sky while flying on a plane, files that under fuck it, downs glasses of wine as they relax with a scented bubble bath and netflix, like their selfie or you’re grounded, knows 57 convenient ways to murder a man, dark eyes that penetrate your soul, marble and gold.

hermes.     devil-may-care smile, always up-to-date on the latest technology, will steal your french fries, does it for the vine, shitposter, puts googly eyes on everything, meme hoarder, long drives on the highway, ma and pop diners, spontaneous road trips, folded maps, fingers dancing across the keyboard of a laptop, shooting hoops on the basketball court, chatting up strangers as you all journey to your own destinations, goes jogging in the morning, mixes redbull with coffee, menace on april fool’s, hoodies and sneakers.

poseidon.     storm with skin, colorful coral reefs, waves crashing against the shore, stroking the soft fur of a cat, their heart pounding as their horse’s gentle trot speeds into a gallop, tousled locks, clothes smeared with paint, owns several sketchbooks yet always yearns to own more, leather jackets, fondness for diy projects, handwriting that flows across the page, nimble fingers playing the strings of a violin, velvety singing voice that haunts your dreams, mood as ever-changing as the sea, the roar of a motorcycle, compass with a spinning arrow.

zeus.     thunder in their heart, running on coffee, flash of lightning, natural charisma, eloquence, badass in a nice suit, aficionado of history, force of nature, lenny face, nightmare-filled nights, proud arm around their lover’s waist, high-rise buildings, planes soaring through a cloudless sky, technician on the piano, maintains order, strong handshake, juggling multiple events on their busy schedule with ease, expensive watch.

scary  dog  privilege  —  loud  music.  laughing  at  bad  horror  movies.  comfort  through  sitting  in  silence  together.  deep,  Intricate  forests  and  dark  shades  of  green  and  purple.  your  best  feature  is  probably  a  birthmark,  or  maybe  your  nose.  you  often  look  stoic,  but  when  you  do  smile,  it  lights  up  your  whole  face.  you're  observant.  you  probably  have  a  soft  spot  for  kids.  for  someone  who  looks  so  scary,  you  have  this  innate  way  of  making  people  feel  so  safe.  you're  a  natural  protector.  you  just  want  people  to  have  it  better  than  you  did.  your  kindness  is  subtle.  not  everyone  will  see  it.  but  it's  the  cause  of  so  much  healing.  even  more  than  you  can  see.

nightmares  and  discord  —  your  intensity  is  fearsome.  when  you  feel  hurt  you  don’t  often  seek  out  equal  and  fair  revenge  but  rather  drown  them  in  hysteria  and  watch  them  burn.  you’re  temperamental  and  your  emotions  are  on  display  for  the  world  to  see.  you’re  the  last  one  any  human  would  want  to  upset,  because  even  though  death  would  not  directly  befall  them,  doom  and  chaos  would  ensue,  surrounding  their  life  until  their  death.

the  stairs  —  there’s  something  eerie  about  this  house,  something  wholly  unfamiliar  in  the  familiar.  you’ve  always  been  aware  of  it,  of  everything  just  a  little  too  much. you’ve  seen  how  this  house  sinks  its  teeth  into  whatever  passes  through  it  because  you  are  the  passage  that  connects  one  to  the  other.  so  you  know  how  this  ends  —  when  someone  believes  they  can  tame  a  predator,  and  now  you  must  sit  back  in  and  watch  as  they  become  the  newest  prey.  you  have  a  good  heart,  or  what  is  left  of  it,  but  you  learned  the  hard  way  to  put  yourself  first  in  a  place  like  this.  so  make  no  mistake,  when  the  third  step  from  the  top  creaks  it  is  not  without  purpose.  you  are  a  bridge,  at  the  end  of  the  day,  the  intermediate  between  the  familiar  and  then  unknown.  a  staircase  goes  both  up  and  down,  after  all.

your  soul  is... volatile  —  there  is  a  deep,  painful  energy  harboured  within  this  soul...  at  its  very  core  festers  malice,  and  a  deeply  rooted  pain  that  craves  nothing  more  but  to  inflict  itself  onto  everything  around  it.  special  care  has  been  given  to  it  -  to  stop  examiners  from  coming  into  any  harm  should  they  draw  too  near  to  it.  you  coil  like  a  serpent,  awaiting  a  moment  to  strike.  to  claim  your  revenge.  it  never  comes.

ruined  by  fear  —  you  live  on  the  edge  of  your  seat,  but  it  is  not  a  good  thing.  you’re  constantly  looking  over  your  shoulder,  unsure  of  what  will  hurt  you  next.  you  have  been  hurt  so  much,  but  you  refuse  to  adapt  to  your  pain.  instead,  you  avoid  what  you  cannot  control.  you  are  so  afraid  of  making  a  mistake,  of  being  brought  closer  to  your  doom.  but,  despite  this,  you  cannot  articulate  what  you  fear.  you  are  just  afraid.  only  afraid.  and  you  will  be  afraid  until  you  are  brought  to  what  you  fear.

plot  twist:  you  didn’t  die  —  maybe  the  story  starts  with  the  hero  finding  out  you  died,  or  maybe  you're  dragged  off  screen  just  before  a  gunshot.   or,  possibly,  you  suffer  a  wound  that  no  mortal  could  possibly  survive.   then,  in  the  hero's  most  desperate  hour  ( or  just  in  time  for  sequel  bait ),  you'll  reappear  to  save  the  day.   something  makes  you  stronger  than  most,  or  perhaps  there  was  simply  a  grand,  miserable  sort  of  miscommunication  regarding  your  status.   nonetheless,  just  about  everyone  will  be  happy  to  see  you,  and  more  than  happy  to  hear  the  story  of  how  you  survived.   just  hope  that  the  author  won't  make  a  habit  of  this  -  otherwise  no  one  will  know  what  to  do  when  you  die  for  real.

a  story  that  ends  in  blood  —   the  world  has  always  been  unkind,  and  when  you  have  turned  to  yourself  for  comfort  you  have  come  face  to  face  with  an  empty  pit  which  seems  to  be  laughing.  you  don’t  care  if  it  kills  you  but  once  you  find  someone  whom  you  love  and  who  loves  you  back,  you  will  make  sure  nothing  happens  to  them.  they  are  yours.  you  will  make  a  tear  in  this  world  and  create  a  new  place  for  you  and  your  love  if  it  comes  to  that.  because  it  has  always  been  about  love,  and  it  is  how  it  always  ends.

loneliness  born  of  anger  —  you  learned  from  a  young  age,  you  are  not  like  others,  and  others  hate  you  for  it.   you've  been  mocked  and  tormented  your  whole  life,  and  it  birthed  a  violence  in  your  heart.   you  yell  at  your  younger  siblings  when  they  slip  up.   you  don't  want  them  to  suffer  the  same  fate  you  did.   at  once,  you  are  both  miles  above  and  miles  below  your  peers.   you  are  not  polite.   people  no  longer  dislike  you  because  of  you,  but  for  your  biting  words.   it's  better  this  way,  after  all.   at  least  now  you  know  it's  your  own  fault.

acerbic  wit:   you're  a  mentor  —  an  old  scarred  wolf,  an  injured  soldier,  a  disgraced  paladin.  your  teachings  read  as  shamelessly  pretentious,  speaking  in  rhymes  and  biting  down  hard  into  anyone  stupid  enough  to  make  the  wrong  move.  this  isn't  your  first  life,  nor  your  second,  nor  your  sixth  —  you'll  make  the  most  of  your  time  shackled  to  this  world,  no  matter  how  many  loops  it  takes  to  get  it  right.  with  every  defeat,  you  reincarnate;  a  little  smarter,  a  little  quicker,  crueler  and  nastier.  will  you  choose  to  be  brutal,  equalizing,  that  final  strike  in  the  face  of  your  enemies?  will  you  go  soft,  become  tender  and  domesticated?  the  choice  is  yours.  it's  not  like  i  can  stop  you.

bold what applies to your muse.  italicize for what sometimes applies.

𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡  𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥:

bruised knuckles. bloody noses.  eye-rolling. empty bottles.  messy hair.  sarcasm.  lip biting.  unwashed jeans.  coffee breath.  loud music.  broken neon signs.  chipped nail polish.  leather jackets.  always wearing headphones.  swearing.  sneaking out at 3 am.  dark lipstick.  frown creases.  burning cigarettes.  plaid shirts.  under-eye circles. dark colours.

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭  𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞:

honey tea.  flower crowns.  giggling.  blowing kisses.  dancing without worries.  white lace.  soft textures.  fluffy throw pillows.  using too many heart emojis.  empathy.  constant daydreaming.  handwritten letters.  fairy lights.  bullet journals.  designated driver.  warm hugs.  garden picnics.  quiet.  smile lines.  optimism.  flowy clothes.  pastel colors.

the  strong-willed  —  your  soul  has  touched  darkness  and  so  you  learned  to  wrap  yourself  within  it.  you  felt  fear  and  decided  you  would  never  let  it  control  you  again.  you’re  not  always  all  sharp  edges  and  cool  stares,  but  you refuse  to  be  prey  again.  you  turned  your  teeth  into  fangs  so  you  would  be  the  one  to  bite.  you  learned  to  growl  louder  than  all  the  predators  who  stole  your  innocence.  it  may  seem  like  you  don’t  care,  sometimes  you  try  to  pretend  you  don’t,  but  i  see  the  way  you  sharpen  your  knives  when  the  ones  you  care  about  are  hurting.

hands  —  hands  can  do  so  much,  they’re  extremely  versatile  much  like  yourself.  they  can  nourish,  they  can  pray,  they  can  comfort.  but  we  both  know  that’s  not  what  you  use  yours  for,  is  it?  you  know  as  well  as  i  do  how  hands  can  maim,  can  strangle,  can  destroy.  they  are  unthinking  and  unfeeling,  and  unlike  the  others  they  do  not  act  off  instinct  but  off  of  command.  every  act  you  commit  is  purposeful, filled  with  an  intent,  sometimes  to  be  cruel  and  sometimes  to  be  kind.  you  know  who  is  deserving  of  your  hurt,  who  is  deserving  of  your  love.  always  make  sure  you  can  tell  them  apart  before  you  wrap  those  hands  around  them.

the  lightning  rod  — whether  it’s  your  turbulent  nature,  your  flash  quick  mind,  or  the  air  of  unknown  about  you,  your  undercurrent  is  the  lightning  rod.  you  are  somewhat  unpredictable,  but  if  we  unravelled  you  we’d  see  you  know  exactly  what  you’re  doing,  but  it  makes  you  feel  less  vulnerable  to  pretend  it  wasn’t  planned.  some  people  stay  back  from  you,  but  others  would  follow  you  cross  country,  for  the  very  same  reason.  they  don’t  know  enough  about  you.  the  difference  is  in  who  wants  to  learn  more.  keep  your  golden  nature,  it’s  exciting,  but  don’t  be  afraid  to  admit  what  you  know.  matshona  dhliwayo  said  “ lightning  strikes  but  does  not  roar, ”  your  bite  will  always  be  worse  than  your  bark,  keep  that  close  to  your  chest.

love  as  a  flaw  —  cowering,  your  love  hides  in  the  dark.  in  shadows  and  under  cover  of  night,  your  love  runs  from  corner  to  corner,  afraid  to  linger,  afraid  to  be  caught.  afraid,  afraid,  afraid  of  everything.  when  you  fall  in  love,  it  is  with  alarm  bells  ringing.  your  love  is  a  mistake,  a  flaw  in  the  code,  a  purchase  you  don’t  remember  making  and  desperately  want  to  return.  you  didn’t  ask  for  this.  you  didn’t  want  this.  it’s  a  problem––  your  problem––  and  you  would  do  anything  to  pass  it  off,  burn  it  away,  scoop  it  out  of  you  with  bare  hands,  or  carved  out  with  hooked  knives  before  it  can  destroy  you.  get  it  out,  just  get  it  out  now.  you  don’t  care  who  you  hurt  in  the  process,  only  that  you  can’t  afford  to  be  hurt  first.  being  loved  by  you  is  to  be  loved  by  a  figment  of  the  imagination.  it  is  to  be  loved  in  halves,  or  not  at  all.

the  drifter  —  you've  got  nothing  to  lose,  and  really  nothing  to  gain,  so  you  spend  your  days  with  your  horse  riding  along  the  plains.  you're  super  self  sustaining  and  own  a  harmonica  (or  some  sort  of  instrument  you  can  easily  play  on  your  own.)  animals  tend  to  be  better  companions  for  you  than  people,  but  one  day  you  might  find  the  right  person  that  fits  with  you  when  you  stumble  onto  their  ranch  scaring  off  coyotes.  you're  typically  quiet,  more  into  listening  to  others  than  talking  about  yourself,  but  despite  all  that  you've  got  mighty  interesting  stories  from  your  travels.