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The Devil In The Convent

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Transcendent scorning the bounds of one Earth, one time, one flesh, you have carried us between many worlds within one globe encompassed. From the dismal depths of history into the seeming light of our own era you have illuminated the lurking darkness of our fears and deep imaginings where the evil things lurk, dread whispers upon a sea of lies ever looking to set claws into our sanity. Also you have neatly illustrated through your character in this story our connection, deep and abiding with all that has gone before and the resurgent power granted us by the wisdom of past ages.

A real triumph, a rodent bows most deeply.
 
RacingRodent said:
Transcendent scorning the bounds of one Earth, one time, one flesh, you have carried us between many worlds within one globe encompassed. From the dismal depths of history into the seeming light of our own era you have illuminated the lurking darkness of our fears and deep imaginings where the evil things lurk, dread whispers upon a sea of lies ever looking to set claws into our sanity. Also you have neatly illustrated through your character in this story our connection, deep and abiding with all that has gone before and the resurgent power granted us by the wisdom of past ages.

A real triumph, a rodent bows most deeply.
Click to expand...

Thanks RR, wonderful words:very_hot:
 
Velut Luna said:
It was a great mental and physical involvement for me, I made sure that we could hear what was inside me.
Click to expand...

That's the question .... Is all that really in you, Luna ?
I'm astonished, but it's not the true word ...upset, perhaps? that you could have such fantasy: perhaps it is not only fantasy...

It's the first time that I read such a story : we are in the deep, here, or more ....:eek:

In any case, BRAVO for the writting, it's wonderfuly made and even if Eul helped you for English, you had written, in first I presume, this story in Italian ...

What else ? Perhaps a little cryticism concerning the interrogation'scenes: in my opinion, it was not always very clear concerning the names and the characters ...But, I've understood, be rassured ...;)

Conclusion: a Great Story like we have not often here, now ... :)

...but people cant have chatt and write seriously in the same time ....:oops:
 
Velut Luna said:
Now that I have finished my little work and this great effort, I have to thank all of you, dear friends, that you had the perseverance to follow me on this journey of fantasy and folly, who have supported me with your benevolent and with your feedback added as to follow the texts or with the private mail messages.

But surely the biggest thanks is to Eulalia, with her extraordinary patience she has made possible the publication of the text in a perfect English, without her help my story would not have been able to see the light and reaching all of you.

I have met many enthusiastic friends who have followed me all the way, others have lost their way, perhaps I have not been able to stimulate their imagination or maybe just because the story has dwelt too.
Without wanting to be insistent, I invite you to reread the story because much has been written but much more is written between the lines, almost in code.
I will appreciate your feedback, if you want to add more, I will answer your questions and give explanations you ask.
Thanks also to the forum administrators who have created this space where we can all meet up, free our fantasies and share them with joy.

Luna
Click to expand...
it was me a big pleasure.................but not ready
 
messaline said:
That's the question .... Is all that really in you, Luna ?
I'm astonished, but it's not the true word ...upset, perhaps? that you could have such fantasy: perhaps it is not only fantasy...

It's the first time that I read such a story : we are in the deep, here, or more ....:eek:

In any case, BRAVO for the writting, it's wonderfuly made and even if Eul helped you for English, you had written, in first I presume, this story in Italian ...

What else ? Perhaps a little cryticism concerning the interrogation'scenes: in my opinion, it was not always very clear concerning the names and the characters ...But, I've understood, be rassured ...;)

Conclusion: a Great Story like we have not often here, now ... :)

...but people cant have chatt and write seriously in the same time ....:oops:
Click to expand...

Yes my fantasy and real world and hystorical docs, I suggest to read all the story from its start to end and dig in it all that the words can not say.
 
messaline said:
even if Eul helped you for English, you had written, in first I presume, this story in Italian
Click to expand...


Actually, quite a lot of the 'modern day' dialogue was in Napolitano -
that was certainly new to me -
as different from standard (Tuscan) Italian as Scots is from English.

I could tell from the start it was going to be something quite exceptional,
and was I right or was I right? :devil:

It's been a fascinating experience for me, simply polishing the English a bit,
but keeping pretty close to the distinctive rhythms of the Italian.
And I've learnt such a lot from Luna as we've gone along,
about life in Naples in the late Renaissance, about Italian poetry,
about the Cumaean Sybil and lots, lots more.

I wouldn't have missed it for anything,
I'm already feeling withdrawal symptoms :D​
 
Velut Luna said:
Devil in the Convent 45

45


I feel your warmth, still half asleep, without opening my eyes I roll onto your supine body, kiss you on the mouth, you bite my lips, penetrate me. We stay motionless, our bodies fused, one flesh, in a time-warp, while our pleasure increases with the heat of our bodies. Excitement is growing, I reach a crazy orgasm without moving a muscle, a slight movement in me and your hot cum erupts - moments of eternity!


It’s evening, in the automatic shower we rid our bodies of trouble and torpor, gently stroking each other’s anatomy, still kissing. You lift me up, holding me tight under my arms, I enwrap your hips with my thighs, again your dagger sinks into my flesh. I arch my back, supported by your arms behind me, in a balletic posture, a balance masses, while the water falls on my breast.

With wide-open arms outstretched, my hands touching the walls, it’s an aesthetic of crucifixion. I reach orgasm just before the climax of your pleasure and your seed flows into me, warm fluid of life, immediately I follow you to a new orgasm. I feel the stress of your muscles striving to maintain this balance as long as possible, the sculptor who could transfer into inert matter the whole ecstatic charge of this figure would create a supreme work of art.


Four egg yolks and eight tablespoons of sugar, a thick golden cream, hot coffee added and immediately scrambled, two steaming cups of pure energy. I remain naked without drying my hair to the delight of your eyes. While you slowly get dressed, sadness invades my heart.


Luna- 'Don’t leave Ciro, stay with me, I'm still scared!'


Ciro- 'Luna, my sweet Luna, I would like to, but it's forbidden, the last part of the path of this tragic dénouement you’ll have to follow it alone, I can’t take you where you must go.'


Luna- 'Why leave me right now, at the most difficult time?'


Ciro- 'I cannot drink your cup.'


Tears of fear flow down my face. You kiss me, licking my salty streams, you go on caressing my crotch, my breasts, kissing mouth to mouth.


Ciro- 'I'll see you tomorrow.'


I lean my head against the door that he’s just closed, my vision blurred by tears, my hands resting on the door-panel as if I’d been locked in a cell forever.


From the freezer I take a bottle of lemon vodka, a glass rod, and go to my desk. I have to complete the design for the power-plants of the new museum. I work, then in the icy aura rising from the alcohol emerges the shape of hooded one - black hood, red crosses.


Notary- 'It's your turn! '


Terror comes over me.


We’ve been left for hours in this obscene position, me with my arms outstretched, my wrists chained above me, leaning back on the floor, my legs spread out and raised up at the ankles.

The Pear of Anguish with its petals open is in my pussy, another in my arse. My breasts are tied tightly with a rope so now they are purple and swollen from the restriction of the blood.

At a gesture of his left hand, a crowd of naked hooded brutes approaches. They extract the pears from my orifices, I suffer stabbing pains. They unlock the shackles, and carry me on their shoulders like huntsmen’s prey along the cellar corridor and up the stairs. I’m thrown down on the ground in the porch of the cloister, there are broken wooden beams, nails, hammers. I’m kneeling, held forcibly by the arms, crowned with thorns, blood flows in drops down my face.

I’m brutally tied to the pillars. They start lashing me in turns, the violent, bestial brutes, beating my back, buttocks and legs. Skin tears under the blows, my soft flesh deforms and sways under the impact.


Now they’re in front of me, the scourge hits my belly, my breasts, still roped, the pain’s making me delirious. My thighs are lined with bloody streaks. With a rope tied to my ankle, my leg’s hauled well above my shoulder, with raging fury of beasts are flailing my vulva, the inside or my thighs, and my buttocks. Blood, screams, guffaws, then hands penetrating my vagina and rectum.


They untie me, drag me along on the ground towards the cross-beam. It’s futile to try to fight against these beasts, four of them are holding my arms against the wood, one’s astride my chest masturbating on my breasts till he squirts my face with disgusting slime.


I feel a nail against the palm of my hand, a hammer-blow, broken bones and ripped tendons, my fingers tighten like claws, pain explodes in my brain. The other hand, the pain’s a hundredfold worse now that I've tasted the first wound. Then there’s a nail at the top of my forearm, in the crook of the elbow - the hammer-blow feels is as if it’s crushed my arm. The other arm’s treated the same.

So nailed to the cross-beam, I’m raped repeatedly by the brutes, then, covered with their putrid sperm, I’m raised up. As the beam is lifted, my weight is loaded onto the nails. Now, standing behind, they tie me to the beam, passing the rope around my neck and armpits.


Unsteadily, I begin my blasphemous Via Crucis. There are obscene drawings on the inner walls of the cloister between the windows, accompanied by unspeakable curses. I am forced on my knees to pronounce satanic stuff before these representations of the violence that I must endure.

The first station, second, third ... an endless path of pain, mocking, torture ... then turning left into the longer walk I see, nailed to the outside wall of the church, where memorial crosses are inscribed, the mangled bodies of Agnes, Lavinia and Livia, horribly mutilated, impaled, their poor feminine bodies utterly destroyed.

I fall to the ground overcome with terror at the sight of the horrible fate of the poor sisters, I’m kicked, then grasping hands tug me up, not out of pity but so as not to interrupt the sadistic game which is orchestrated with meticulous cruelty.

...fourth, fifth, sixth... violation, more rapes, profanity, satanic stuff: 'Amon, miserere nobis ...' [Ammon, have mercy upon us] ... seventh, eighth, ninth ... 'O great Lucifer emperor of hell, let me bring you and introduce you to the arse of this bitch ... ', sneers, profanity, invocation: ' Zaebos, anum meum aperies ... ' [Zaebos, open thou my arse ] ... tenth, eleventh, twelfth ... raped in turn by all the brutes, invocation: 'Samael, asperge me spermate tuo... ' [Samael, sprinkle me with thy sperm] ... thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth ...


So, in the name of all the heads of the legions of hell, we arrive at the end of the Way of the Cross, and enter the cloister garden, where the ground has been turned up by digging to bury the bodies of those who have preceded me on Calvary, scattering bones, tibias, femurs, skulls.


I’m led to the foot of the olive tree and forced to kneel. A brute grabs me by the hair and twists my head back, another forces a funnel into my mouth, then fills a jug from a bucket of black, viscous liquid with a pungent smell. From the jug into to the funnel, into my throat, a sudden fire blazes down my gullet into my stomach, as if I’m being poisoned! This is the cup that I have to swallow!


The black figure of the hooded one approaches me. He has a knife in his left hand, he brings the point up to my face and slices a vertical cut all the way down, slicing my lips, chin, and throat - not deeply, but maddeningly painful - down between my breasts, cutting the rope, continuing down my stomach, lower abdomen, pubes, on down to slice my clitoris, my vulva, right to the perineum. Then from under my arm across my breasts, he cuts a horizontal line to form the shape of a cross.


A brute soaks a wad of rags tied on top of a short stick in the bucket of poison, and rubs it into my wounds. it feels to me as if they're being burnt with a hot iron, the caustic acid stops the bleeding but destroys the flesh around the wound.

With the ropes they raise me up among the branches of the tree and set the beam on the branches. They spread my legs apart and nail my feet to the trunk. Then, with a sledgehammer, they break my thigh-bones. A large broken-off branch is introduced into my arsehole.


Poor Euphrasia is already dying, her genitals wounded with spearheads, they are burning her body with red-hot irons. Eulalia is the image of martyrdom.


The black figure in front of me, enjoying my agony, gives a sign with his left hand. One of the brutes suddenly cuts the rope that binds the beam to my body and supports me, with an axe. I drop down, the nails in my arms support my body now, the big broken branch penetrates deep into me, I piss urine and blood, the jet hits the hood of this demon, he pulls it off, it’s the Father Confessor …cuius imago nulla repraesentatione exprimi potest alia quam carnis inmensae dentibus truculentae... [of whom no image can be formed, save one of extreme ferocity, with teeth of flesh - Pliny]

View attachment 133208
​
epilogue


A cold shower wakes me. I’m lying on the bathroom floor, you’re caressing my face, massaging my numb body.


Eulalia- 'At last you’ve woken up! You drank a lot of vodka last night!'


Confused, I still can’t, I answer with an indistinct groan. My vision is still foggy, I see a shadow behind you...


Luna- 'Who's there?' I whisper.


Eulalia- 'It’s Gennaro, this morning he saw you hadn’t arrived on site, he tried to contact you, you didn’t answer the phone, so he phoned me thinking to find you with me, then we rushed here fearing something had happened to you again. We found you lying on the ground with the empty bottle clasped in one hand and the cap in the other, but whatever had you been doing? '


Luna- 'I don’t remember anything, I finished making the design for the new plants, I sent an e-mail to Gennaro ...'


Eulalia- 'You work too hard! You need a good long holiday, we’ll leave before dark. '


On the plane, sitting in the middle seat, still feeling woozy, my head resting on your shoulder...


I'll be crucified in Mykonos.



I'm crying I'm crying I'm crying I'm crying

Love love love love love love love love love

All I need is love all I need is love

All I need is love love love is all I need
​


FINIS TERRAE

[the end of the Earth]



(Ciro’s sitting on the seat next to me)
Click to expand...
You have all our love ....... always.......​
 
Well, that was certainly a trip and a half, Luna.
To part the veil between one world and another. Commune with beings mysterious and unknowable. To experience the depths of denunciation and torture, longing and love, sometimes in a world seemingly of fantasy, sometimes in this one. If an experience is profound, does that make it real?
We are all on a journey to our own Mykonos
 
phlebas said:
Well, that was certainly a trip and a half, Luna.
To part the veil between one world and another. Commune with beings mysterious and unknowable. To experience the depths of denunciation and torture, longing and love, sometimes in a world seemingly of fantasy, sometimes in this one. If an experience is profound, does that make it real?
We are all on a journey to our own Mykonos
Click to expand...
Thanks Phlebas for your words, my story was an experiment a mix of fantasy, reality and history, but in first a trip in my mind.
 
Eulalia said:
Actually, quite a lot of the 'modern day' dialogue was in Napolitano -
that was certainly new to me -
as different from standard (Tuscan) Italian as Scots is from English.

I could tell from the start it was going to be something quite exceptional,
and was I right or was I right? :devil:

It's been a fascinating experience for me, simply polishing the English a bit,
but keeping pretty close to the distinctive rhythms of the Italian.
And I've learnt such a lot from Luna as we've gone along,
about life in Naples in the late Renaissance, about Italian poetry,
about the Cumaean Sybil and lots, lots more.

I wouldn't have missed it for anything,
I'm already feeling withdrawal symptoms :D​
Click to expand...
If you have learned something from me, I have learned from you tenfold. I'm worried about your withdrawal, it is necessary that starts immediately with a new story, and you know what ...;)
 
Velut Luna said:
Now that I have finished my little work and this great effort, I have to thank all of you, dear friends, that you had the perseverance to follow me on this journey of fantasy and folly, who have supported me with your benevolent and with your feedback added as to follow the texts or with the private mail messages.

But surely the biggest thanks is to Eulalia, with her extraordinary patience she has made possible the publication of the text in a perfect English, without her help my story would not have been able to see the light and reaching all of you.

I have met many enthusiastic friends who have followed me all the way, others have lost their way, perhaps I have not been able to stimulate their imagination or maybe just because the story has dwelt too.
Without wanting to be insistent, I invite you to reread the story because much has been written but much more is written between the lines, almost in code.
I will appreciate your feedback, if you want to add more, I will answer your questions and give explanations you ask.
Thanks also to the forum administrators who have created this space where we can all meet up, free our fantasies and share them with joy.

Luna
Click to expand...

Three cheers for our outstanding new writer and her wonderful story! :):beer::clapping:
 
Velut Luna said:
Devil in the Convent 45

45


I feel your warmth, still half asleep, without opening my eyes I roll onto your supine body, kiss you on the mouth, you bite my lips, penetrate me. We stay motionless, our bodies fused, one flesh, in a time-warp, while our pleasure increases with the heat of our bodies. Excitement is growing, I reach a crazy orgasm without moving a muscle, a slight movement in me and your hot cum erupts - moments of eternity!


It’s evening, in the automatic shower we rid our bodies of trouble and torpor, gently stroking each other’s anatomy, still kissing. You lift me up, holding me tight under my arms, I enwrap your hips with my thighs, again your dagger sinks into my flesh. I arch my back, supported by your arms behind me, in a balletic posture, a balance masses, while the water falls on my breast.

With wide-open arms outstretched, my hands touching the walls, it’s an aesthetic of crucifixion. I reach orgasm just before the climax of your pleasure and your seed flows into me, warm fluid of life, immediately I follow you to a new orgasm. I feel the stress of your muscles striving to maintain this balance as long as possible, the sculptor who could transfer into inert matter the whole ecstatic charge of this figure would create a supreme work of art.


Four egg yolks and eight tablespoons of sugar, a thick golden cream, hot coffee added and immediately scrambled, two steaming cups of pure energy. I remain naked without drying my hair to the delight of your eyes. While you slowly get dressed, sadness invades my heart.


Luna- 'Don’t leave Ciro, stay with me, I'm still scared!'


Ciro- 'Luna, my sweet Luna, I would like to, but it's forbidden, the last part of the path of this tragic dénouement you’ll have to follow it alone, I can’t take you where you must go.'


Luna- 'Why leave me right now, at the most difficult time?'


Ciro- 'I cannot drink your cup.'


Tears of fear flow down my face. You kiss me, licking my salty streams, you go on caressing my crotch, my breasts, kissing mouth to mouth.


Ciro- 'I'll see you tomorrow.'


I lean my head against the door that he’s just closed, my vision blurred by tears, my hands resting on the door-panel as if I’d been locked in a cell forever.


From the freezer I take a bottle of lemon vodka, a glass rod, and go to my desk. I have to complete the design for the power-plants of the new museum. I work, then in the icy aura rising from the alcohol emerges the shape of hooded one - black hood, red crosses.


Notary- 'It's your turn! '


Terror comes over me.


We’ve been left for hours in this obscene position, me with my arms outstretched, my wrists chained above me, leaning back on the floor, my legs spread out and raised up at the ankles.

The Pear of Anguish with its petals open is in my pussy, another in my arse. My breasts are tied tightly with a rope so now they are purple and swollen from the restriction of the blood.

At a gesture of his left hand, a crowd of naked hooded brutes approaches. They extract the pears from my orifices, I suffer stabbing pains. They unlock the shackles, and carry me on their shoulders like huntsmen’s prey along the cellar corridor and up the stairs. I’m thrown down on the ground in the porch of the cloister, there are broken wooden beams, nails, hammers. I’m kneeling, held forcibly by the arms, crowned with thorns, blood flows in drops down my face.

I’m brutally tied to the pillars. They start lashing me in turns, the violent, bestial brutes, beating my back, buttocks and legs. Skin tears under the blows, my soft flesh deforms and sways under the impact.


Now they’re in front of me, the scourge hits my belly, my breasts, still roped, the pain’s making me delirious. My thighs are lined with bloody streaks. With a rope tied to my ankle, my leg’s hauled well above my shoulder, with raging fury of beasts are flailing my vulva, the inside or my thighs, and my buttocks. Blood, screams, guffaws, then hands penetrating my vagina and rectum.


They untie me, drag me along on the ground towards the cross-beam. It’s futile to try to fight against these beasts, four of them are holding my arms against the wood, one’s astride my chest masturbating on my breasts till he squirts my face with disgusting slime.


I feel a nail against the palm of my hand, a hammer-blow, broken bones and ripped tendons, my fingers tighten like claws, pain explodes in my brain. The other hand, the pain’s a hundredfold worse now that I've tasted the first wound. Then there’s a nail at the top of my forearm, in the crook of the elbow - the hammer-blow feels is as if it’s crushed my arm. The other arm’s treated the same.

So nailed to the cross-beam, I’m raped repeatedly by the brutes, then, covered with their putrid sperm, I’m raised up. As the beam is lifted, my weight is loaded onto the nails. Now, standing behind, they tie me to the beam, passing the rope around my neck and armpits.


Unsteadily, I begin my blasphemous Via Crucis. There are obscene drawings on the inner walls of the cloister between the windows, accompanied by unspeakable curses. I am forced on my knees to pronounce satanic stuff before these representations of the violence that I must endure.

The first station, second, third ... an endless path of pain, mocking, torture ... then turning left into the longer walk I see, nailed to the outside wall of the church, where memorial crosses are inscribed, the mangled bodies of Agnes, Lavinia and Livia, horribly mutilated, impaled, their poor feminine bodies utterly destroyed.

I fall to the ground overcome with terror at the sight of the horrible fate of the poor sisters, I’m kicked, then grasping hands tug me up, not out of pity but so as not to interrupt the sadistic game which is orchestrated with meticulous cruelty.

...fourth, fifth, sixth... violation, more rapes, profanity, satanic stuff: 'Amon, miserere nobis ...' [Ammon, have mercy upon us] ... seventh, eighth, ninth ... 'O great Lucifer emperor of hell, let me bring you and introduce you to the arse of this bitch ... ', sneers, profanity, invocation: ' Zaebos, anum meum aperies ... ' [Zaebos, open thou my arse ] ... tenth, eleventh, twelfth ... raped in turn by all the brutes, invocation: 'Samael, asperge me spermate tuo... ' [Samael, sprinkle me with thy sperm] ... thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth ...


So, in the name of all the heads of the legions of hell, we arrive at the end of the Way of the Cross, and enter the cloister garden, where the ground has been turned up by digging to bury the bodies of those who have preceded me on Calvary, scattering bones, tibias, femurs, skulls.


I’m led to the foot of the olive tree and forced to kneel. A brute grabs me by the hair and twists my head back, another forces a funnel into my mouth, then fills a jug from a bucket of black, viscous liquid with a pungent smell. From the jug into to the funnel, into my throat, a sudden fire blazes down my gullet into my stomach, as if I’m being poisoned! This is the cup that I have to swallow!


The black figure of the hooded one approaches me. He has a knife in his left hand, he brings the point up to my face and slices a vertical cut all the way down, slicing my lips, chin, and throat - not deeply, but maddeningly painful - down between my breasts, cutting the rope, continuing down my stomach, lower abdomen, pubes, on down to slice my clitoris, my vulva, right to the perineum. Then from under my arm across my breasts, he cuts a horizontal line to form the shape of a cross.


A brute soaks a wad of rags tied on top of a short stick in the bucket of poison, and rubs it into my wounds. it feels to me as if they're being burnt with a hot iron, the caustic acid stops the bleeding but destroys the flesh around the wound.

With the ropes they raise me up among the branches of the tree and set the beam on the branches. They spread my legs apart and nail my feet to the trunk. Then, with a sledgehammer, they break my thigh-bones. A large broken-off branch is introduced into my arsehole.


Poor Euphrasia is already dying, her genitals wounded with spearheads, they are burning her body with red-hot irons. Eulalia is the image of martyrdom.


The black figure in front of me, enjoying my agony, gives a sign with his left hand. One of the brutes suddenly cuts the rope that binds the beam to my body and supports me, with an axe. I drop down, the nails in my arms support my body now, the big broken branch penetrates deep into me, I piss urine and blood, the jet hits the hood of this demon, he pulls it off, it’s the Father Confessor …cuius imago nulla repraesentatione exprimi potest alia quam carnis inmensae dentibus truculentae... [of whom no image can be formed, save one of extreme ferocity, with teeth of flesh - Pliny]

View attachment 133208
​
epilogue


A cold shower wakes me. I’m lying on the bathroom floor, you’re caressing my face, massaging my numb body.


Eulalia- 'At last you’ve woken up! You drank a lot of vodka last night!'


Confused, I still can’t, I answer with an indistinct groan. My vision is still foggy, I see a shadow behind you...


Luna- 'Who's there?' I whisper.


Eulalia- 'It’s Gennaro, this morning he saw you hadn’t arrived on site, he tried to contact you, you didn’t answer the phone, so he phoned me thinking to find you with me, then we rushed here fearing something had happened to you again. We found you lying on the ground with the empty bottle clasped in one hand and the cap in the other, but whatever had you been doing? '


Luna- 'I don’t remember anything, I finished making the design for the new plants, I sent an e-mail to Gennaro ...'


Eulalia- 'You work too hard! You need a good long holiday, we’ll leave before dark. '


On the plane, sitting in the middle seat, still feeling woozy, my head resting on your shoulder...


I'll be crucified in Mykonos.



I'm crying I'm crying I'm crying I'm crying

Love love love love love love love love love

All I need is love all I need is love

All I need is love love love is all I need
​


FINIS TERRAE

[the end of the Earth]



(Ciro’s sitting on the seat next to me)
Click to expand...


ASTONISHED!
:clapping::clapping::clapping:​
 
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