080121 - Extinction Chronicles ·

Last night was another bifurcated sleep with a break spelled by “Barney Miller” humor. I prefer to rise early and so try to truncate my middle of the night wakefulness as much as possible. Thinking about today`s writing i was going to try to depict my early friendship with the newly arrived “Boat People” in what became ground zero for “Little Saigon” of Orange County, Ca. Last night there was no indication of the mayhem in the capitol of my nation that i was to wake up to. It is not a putsch as the corporate media would so like you to believe, rather a staged circus designed to destabilize civic authority and solidify the autocratic corporate oligarchy attempting to rule the planet - I would rather reminisce about my friends Hoa Le, and Ngay Phan by describing their heroic journey into ‘merican culture, however sad it is that i haven’t seen them in 40 years, and that they are very likely ardent _rump supporters.

The first nguoi Viet to arrive in California were sent to Camp Pendleton Marine Corps just South of San Clemente. From this location clusters of immigrants were released through a sponsorship arrangement with local communities to aid in assimilation of acclimating to their new home. I was living in Santa Ana, close to downtown when this happened. Peering back through the haze of time, I believe that we met as participants in a Comprehensive Educational Training Act (CETA) program where we were to be trained as “Maintenance Mechanics” at one of the local community colleges. They were living close to one of the first Vietnamese Shopping Strips at the corner of Hope St & Sullivan in Santa Ana; i was living at Bishop off Broadway, also in Santa Ana, and we all commuted to Fountain Valley for training: welding, renovating assembly lines, rebuilding power hacksaws, etc.

Our class was an eclectic group during the year of the Biennial 1776-1976 and people were optimistic and happy to be alive; crossing cultural barriers came easy, and ours contained a broad spectrum from homeboys out of SA, soldiers from Saigon and engineering dropouts out of Irvine. What i remember vividly was the aplomb my new Vietnamese friends confronted their new reality - the restaurant at Hope & Sullivan included a social club and it became immediately clear how cohesive they were as a community, but also relentlessly expansive and curious about new experiences. My neighbors in the front house were a fractious couple with a young child and the husband’s volatile belligerence contributed much to their unhappiness. You can imagine his surprise when Hoa took a shine to the Señora and just moved in; as far as i know there was never an altercation of any kind, Hoa simply assumed head of household & that was that.

This was within a many generation deep latino  barrio with routine murders and gang strife, but my friends were never daunted and routinely marched in loose formation with a confidence that gave the homies pause - a not easily accomplished feat. Of course it was not a reciprocal welcome, there was no easy admittance at the social club, and without an escort you may as well have been waiting for the midnight bus if you expected to order. Yet they were entirely open to foreign social events regardless of any language or cultural barriers. I remember my friends charming strangers in any number of different settings using generosity, warmth and kindness as their only entree. They, and my memories of their indomitable courage are responsible in large part for my decision to move here Vietnam when i did.

The courage of my friends is still more remarkable after i have viewed first hand the echo of havoc: physically, ecologically, culturally my own country wrought when occupying Vietnam for entirely venal reasons then - and more dubious now. It may be the lessons i was learning then, were left incomplete and required review, or i am just part of some karmic continuum for which there is no rhyme or reason and like a blind man in a darkened house i am feeling my way from room to room searching for something i didn’t know i’d lost, or bringing something necessary for some purpose i will not understand until i get there. Crazy as it seems, i believe it is a theory more practical than the hysteria being acted out in the seat of power in my own country by zealots who possess no scrap of doubt in their minds about behavior that is as dangerous as i’ve ever seen in my long life - i can only pray & occupy myself with peaceful activity until the light of reason returns to our darkened world. 

jts 08/01/2021

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070121 - Extinction Chronicles ·

Once the delusion of changing the world recedes and we are faced with the prospect of controlling the one domain we can influence - ourselves, the equation changes and all the helplessness and frustration one might have struggled with while strategizing about changing the world become victories and accomplishments · what a happy thought. So too grows the capacity to care, for there is no more delusion about being a source of joy or misery for another, rather you are sharing the mystery of life and simply a witness to another’s breath. This is not to say there is not much to be gained by listening carefully to the stories of others and lending aid where possible, but only as a fellow wanderer occupying this vale of tears for a moment in eternity.

Nor is it necessary to travel hither and yon to find what you always carry within you - the thump, thump, thump of your heart muscle as it oxygenates the cells of your body with its steadfast rhythm regardless of where you stand or what you seek. If that ain’t a miracle, i don’t think they exist. Realizing this i cannot imagine myself every being friendless or lonely again. Not one of my wives was as faithful as my heart has been, though they protested to the contrary. As always, i have to assume full responsibility for that charade, and am nearly certain each was only attempting to reassure me about what i must have ceaselessly expressed a  hunger for - that i was loved; it was only much later that i learned that i would never be loved until i found love for myself deeply buried under the scars of socialization and the imaginary specter of impossible approval.

The more that i tried to understand another, the more i realized i can never know what someone wishes to obscure. The best i can do is to witness behavior and reflect that observation back as neutrally as possible without condemnation or judgement - i’m not there yet, but i’m getting closer. I’ve learned to accept that anger inside of another does not translate into my behavior, good or bad but rather a choice that person makes and for which must remain responsible. It is likewise for my own actions; if i veer from someone, i owe it to myself to understand what it is about that person from which i clench my heart closed, and to know that i am not being destructive through dishonest denial, or whether the person i veer from is actually dangerous or just unintentionally obtuse.

In which case, we may have much in common - a different kind of danger · “Only your friends can hurt you, your enemies can’t get that close.” - A. Nonymous · Blindness is its own delimiter, which may be a reason i can be seemingly cerebral, when i am in fact a very sensory individual; amongst an entire constellation of contradictions that comprise my conscious reality - don’t get me started about my unconscious fantasies, a shaggy beast i’d rather befriend than tame, if only because denying its existence only seems to strengthen its hold on my outward behavior and wreak havoc with interpersonal relations as well as “peace at heart,” whatever that might mean.

For my money it is the promised land where there is no air between behavior and affect; i do something because it pleases me and don’t do other things without questioning my prerogative or rueing the consequences - a life of action · as well as inaction without remorse. Mostly i wish to return to a state of love with all i encounter and be free of fictional burdens about things that are not of my making, while acting freely on my loving impulses with those i understand to be receptive to my peculiar aura, and tolerant of my aberrant inclinations understanding that they are not part of me for destructive purposes but rather as sensory tentacles to aid me in my distorted visual, aural and emotional capacities by providing vivid feedback that helps me to recognize subtleties of human interaction that others with more acute faculties would experience normally - whatever the fuck that means.

jts 07/01/2021

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060121 - Extinction Chronicles ·

Why does it seem so easy and practical to me for human beings to live in peace and harmony - and yet find so many human spirits i cannot, or will not abide? I have gotten far enough to understand i have no control over another, and harbor great resistance to others’ attempts to control me, overtly or covertly. Paradoxically i fancy myself as one of the most cooperative individuals i’ve ever known: mote in one’s own eye - aside · Yet for example, anyone reading this, please feel free to provide me criticism to the contrary. I welcome others ideas, to a limit. It seems others welcome the opportunity until their thinking is countered by alternative reasoning; an observation that may be pure “projection” and wishful thinking on my part. I feel good just getting that far, for there was a time that i was in such pain from internalized familial judgement, that i likely more resembled a spitting kitten at the end of one’s wrist than a supple existential panther looking for a sunny place to lounge.

I welcome doubt, and abhor conviction because the former allows for inquiry, while the latter is a constraint on curiosity. But the paradox regarding circumstantial ethics and its incursion into historical foundations of decency leaves me cold - not the priggish conventional thinking of moralists, but the time-honored practice of kindness and generosity which seems to have been derailed by the manipulations of social engineering that demands we as a species turn a blind eye to egregious income inequality, ecocide, perpetual war and genocide, be it racial, cultural or religious. I come from a family of teachers, several generations deep - it is one of those two-edged swords that is useful until you start teaching and stop learning; my experience in the class has always been most fruitful when the students take possession of the process and lead the way.

Now i believe the bigger the classroom the more valuable the lesson and find teachers and lessons every which way i turn. The difficulty is that the questions become more challenging commensurate with the import of what is being considered. These is the “Extinction Chronicle”, and as such leaves little to the imagination - seek a path for all to survive or perish - there is no middle ground. But if you never tried to induce conversation with a stranger about the odds of our species surviving mid-century, you’ve never really induced a conversation. And you can’t really fault people who have been up to their assholes in a virus that has now mutated and grown 70% more contagious after having killed 350,000+ ‘mericans in less than a year. Then again, talk about your “striking while the iron's hot.” What better time to drive home the threat of mass extinction than when people are dropping like flies? 

You may find that to be a gruesome simile, but from what i understand about exacerbating climate catastrophe coupled with the 13+ typhoons and resultant flooding i witnessed on the mid-coast of the Southeast Asian nation where i live, you might feel differently motivated about finding the next Gucci knockoff or latest gaming console or trendiest gaggle of hipster doofus homies to hang with. I’d like to say i feel a little like “Chicken Little” clucking about the sky falling, but the only trouble with that thinking is the sky is actually falling. What are the odds at 66 years of age i would have been taught a children’s fable at 6 about exaggerating dire consequences only to find 60 years later that it was a non-fiction-fable after all? Aside from being a passionate teacher, my father was relentless and did not know the meaning of surrender until at age 86 he tripped and crushed the neck of his trochanter of his right femur - it was decided that replacement was not viable so he was left to convalesce as best as he could incontinent with a catheter to pee through.

He crossed the dangling leg with his other to the point of callouses at the intersection: two months later x-rays showed the compound fracture while not knitted had in fact calcified to the extent it was determined that he could, if he chose, attempt walking. I watched my grimacing father take 22 steps from his bed to the door before exhaustion and narcotized pain determined an end to that experiment. For me it became a lesson in self respect - that he succumbed to his injuries less than four months later is not the point, that he literally sucked his existence to the marrow is. Whether that anecdote will jolly you into a conviction that your individual existence is powerful, or whether you feel greater solidarity with the general suffering of mankind, enough so to join forces and work toward mending the broken leg of our kind and hobble to our collective future is not mine to say; i can tell you this sharing was from the heart and meant to fortify and enlarge you, rather than demean or discourage your very likely similarly brave and courageous efforts. 

jts 06/01/2021

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050121 - Extinction Chronicles ·

I don’t know what to make of “experts” - either they are the dumbest motherfuckers on the planet or the smartest · i’d be working with someone else’s painter’s corner. I'd not have survived my 1st year of life without expertise, and that is about the nicest thing i can say about the silly ass notion anyone could be an expert. I contracted pneumonia before my 12th month; whether i survived from a Doctor’s expertise or a Nurse’s common sense is anybody’s guess - today i’m banking on the nurse; Doctors are the ones who developed the Covid-19 virus in vitro, and who were responsible for its escape into the general population. Dr. Fauci, bless his existential confusion is intimately related to the “weaponizing” of viral matter, just as the Doctors of Psychology were intimately related to weaponizing Psychology at Guantanamo Bay under the guise of protecting democracy. 

Leonardo da Vinci designed a tank, and took 4 years to paint the Gioconda (Mona Lisa). Artists today do not use his example for creating art; instead they refer to Henry Ford’s assembly line logic and glom onto Alla Prima painting as recourse for the insatiable demand for “sound aesthetic investments” by the HNWI art industrialists for valuable creativity - all from the wise counsel of “experts.” I’d slit my wrists and paint my own demise a la Jaques Louis David, because that is how the story was told during my art training - rather than his having been murdered by an agent of the Royalists as it happened · however, i’d be wasting good blood after bad, so live to fight another day. Whether i dare to intrude into the effete clime of the “jeffery koons” of our superheated Art Basil funded fine art glut rivaling the plunder by Adolph’s fit of pique at never being recognized, we’ll never know.

What i do know is the joy of abandonment to creativity that is not only discouraged by the art industrialists, but actively opposed. Marcel Duchamp identified the corruption of art early in his creative life and mocked modern art's “flatness” and its commensurate economy to the time consuming modeling that 3-dimensional depiction required when he painted his “nude descending a staircase” and further chastised the opportunistic thrust of modern art to mimic “time saving” economic models with his “Bride Stripped Bare of her Bachelors” - work that was executed by the patient, however bizarre at the time, application of dust gathering on plate glass within his studio confines - little different than da Vinci advancing the radical notion that images be gathered by the careful observation of stains on a wall · 

But Leonardo was a radical and there are apocryphal stories in Vasari’s - “Lives of the Most Excellent Painters, Sculptors and Architects” wherein it was described that Mr. da Vinci would invite the personages of his time to his studio for a “viewing” during which he would proceed to step on bellows attached to stitched together pig bladders that would expand relentlessly pressing the gathered dignitaries into a corner, much i’m sure to their collective chagrin - if the egos of today’s important dignitaries are any indication - little has changed, except maybe the willingness of the artist class to articulate independence from those who would “forswear” patronage while simultaneously stipulating more and more what is and what is not permissible using nothing more than the hook of “greed.”

Fuck your greed - our species is being murdered by your creative cowardice - artist and patron alike. Your willing acquiescence to the dictates of the monied class disgusts me and motivates me hopefully through to my demise. A young friend i loved, but who presumed to seize my voice in a “film” about my work has not forgiven me for the transgression of mocking his presumption that his storyline would take precedence over my reality rankles him still - i rue the loss of that type of closeness, but willingly sacrifice the sanctity of a loving friendship to the truth which i wish to die with - i did my best and said that as clearly as i know how without help or permission from anyone or any agency · May we all arrive at such resolve about our destinies, not because they represent expertise, but because they depict us honestly.

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040121 - Extinction Chronicles ·

I was just reminded by a stranger, (or new friend depending on one’s orientation) of the importance of mindfulness and loving gratitude, this from a passing greeting at a friend’s table. It is just past the nuyier and i’m exhausted from the sham and pretense of the recent holyday celebrations and gave the stock reply about 2021; this wizened bloke was having none of that and proceeded to pin my ears back and share the abundance of personal discoveries he had made during the past year of adversity; he did so without a trace of criticism or commentary - just simple exuberance, and it brings tears to my eyes to imagine the power of such an act amplified by the billions of hard-pressed humans in our world at this time. Last night i found a key for which i’d been searching a long time - unconditional self-worth: essentially laying claim to your right to exist.

This is distinguished from the touchy-feely psychobabble about feeling good about one’s self by building self-esteem which always presupposes an arbitrary set of standards representing accomplishment and achievement, activities i grow more and more leery of because they are fungible and external making them easily manipulatable by unscrupulous characters that pass through one’s world. Self-worth is a different beast that is immutable and as personal as breathing - it is the right to exist; to take up space, to be alive however one conceives that to be. It is also something the ruling class is attempting to redefine, by depriving human beings of the essentials of shelter, water, food and air. That is unacceptable and must be opposed by the strongest possible actions.

This planet, cannot be owned - most especially by a handful of amoral parasites who increasingly represent little more than luck as a measure of value - luck that is in fact nothing more than where eggs were fertilized, much less by whom. The gentleman who kindly turned my morning around with his timely generosity about sharing his personal response to adversity is to me a gazillion times more valuable than the billionaire class that has well established its reluctance to face facts, much less act responsibly about distribution of diminishing resources to a growing population which the ruling class is goosing to grow like some dystopian protein farm, or reality depiction of “Soylent Green.”

We are being forced into a corner which is untenable, lead by murderous ideologues wielding weapons they do not own, did not build and from whose destructive power they do not suffer. The telephone indoctrination is nearly so complete that “they” are now just fine tuning their ability to manipulate people against one another, without ever having identified their hand in the struggle. The Vatos where i come from call it the “Black Hand,” - the shot caller - all these billionaire kiddy programers see is the boogey man of poverty breathing down their necks if they do not get with the program. Divide and conquer is being accomplished on a scale unimaginable to our parents, and we have seen its destructive capability in the rending of the very fabric of ‘merica.

Not that ‘mericans hadn’t long ago sold their soul to the satan of consumption without any help from #45 who obviously can’t grab his ass with both hands; we were on a long spiral arc toward doom long before the 1st MAGA hat. It is the destabilizing effect at a time when climate and contagion will further exacerbate isolation and fuel the divisions so necessary for social control. I do not know much outside of the simple timely and oh-so-useful commentary of the kind man pointing out the benefit to his own growth through his willing immersion in tribulation. So maybe that is what Buddha meant after all: if you wish to live, you must suffer, and to live deeply, you must suffer deeply - like listening fully to a single note of a Mozart piano concerto, or fully experiencing a single brush stroke of a Cézanne fruit - again, i don’t know · i’m mindfully guessing.

jts 04/02/2021

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030121 - Extinction Chronicles ·

“Requiem for a Stranger.” On the 23rd day of the last month of a very trying year, a man fell on a slippery floor in the town in which i live - he died today · I knew him not at all, but am certain he will be sorely missed by his widow, son and those who clearly love them all; i can think of no greater testimony to anyone’s life than that. Days after his unfortunate injury i fell on a similarly slippery floor and faced a different end without the same dire consequence; i must live on, the same as his loved ones. They have the benefit of a strong loving memory based on what i can gather from a distance; these paltry paragraphs are as close as i dare go to such suffering, not because i am frightened to be in the midst of that manner of agony, but because i am at a loss as to how i might help; from what little i know about this community, i have to believe i am not alone in my confusion - this community, much less the world at large.

I just spent 15 minutes searching youtube for a renowned singer Trinh Cong Son who has fallen from favor though famous for the depth of his love for country, music and humanity. He is not unique in being marginalized for questionable reasons; i have faced quarantine for my own renegade position within a community attempting to reestablish a belief based on the fading economic model - Capitalism, the ideology of greed · I do not know where my friend the deceased stranger stood on this matter, but the city we shared is very nearly at what had been the dividing line of that promethean struggle of our shared youth, between capitalism and communism. But this essay is not about history or ideology, but a man who anticipated a happy Christmas with his loved ones when he fell. I sort of understand what he might have felt at that instant before impact from the same glimpse i’ve just had about my own tenuous future and have to believe from the outpouring of concern before and after his passing that my unknown friend was a loving human, someone whose example i would do well to emulate.

Nor, just i and my picayune concerns, but anyone who lives with loving concern for those around him/her. I remain at a loss as to how to relieve his widow and son from their grievous tragedy. There is nothing i know of that can substitute for the breathing presence of a loving other, unless it is the rich happy memory of one affected by that loving other. And so i trespass using the only channel left to me - words & ideas · I’m trying to move past apologies for what i think and feel, and willingly request forgiveness from the aggrieved family if my focus on their sadness does anything but alleviate sorrow. My hope is that dwelling on the love which this husband, father and inspired from his family and community can be amplified by consideration - something i find altogether too lacking in today’s media rich environment of ready-made solutions to every question - questions that no longer need be framed to find a desirable answer on the screen, now we just ask Alixa.

My next door neighbor, the brave-hearted farmer has been tilling his fields for the past 5 days, in weather so damp and chilling i cower within the comfort of clean dry sheets and pray for bicycle weather in which to again join with the human race. In my time as a member of this peculiar hamlet known throughout its history as a “friendly meeting place,” i assume my responsibility for not having mastered the native language well enough to have many local friends, however literate i might delude myself to be in body language. I do not meld well with expats either, truth be told i don’t meld well with most, preferring the company of my faithful two-wheeled steed “Asama.” I attribute its good company with muscle tone that has allowed me to suffer numerous falls on the snot-slick marble tiles of the few foreigner villas i have inhabited. If i was a wise man, i’d pay my kind hearted neighbor the farmer for the privilege of performing manual labor within his 4 century old and counting family rice business to reinvigorate my once vibrant anatomy; sadly i didn’t pass muster at my pre-employment skills evaluation during the last harvest: barely being able to hoist a single load of 12 or so bags of rice and so well understand his reluctance to underwrite my physical rehabilitation fromk my “dissipated youth.”

To my friend who has just passed through the veil as humans do leaving behind a loving wake of distressed hearts - i commend you for taking your existence to the brink · whether bidden by your wife or from an idea nurtured within the caverns of your own hungry heart, a powerful muscle i was never introduced to, i salute you. To have brought your bloodline out of the ruts of convention and to spend the last moments of your clearly courageous life, a world apart from what so many on the planet could ever conceive, much less join their passing spirits to - you were and remain a human hero, an explorer of the terrain of the unfamiliar: possessed of a heart stout enough to establish, cultivate and maintain a life different from your upbringing, your living example of how to face life demonstrates to my way of thinking the only reason our species might survive its darkest night · courage manifest, loving leadership and the ability to be at peace in violent environs full with duplicity & fear commingled with the age old human solvents, love & hope. G_d speed Bub, may you find what your heart has been seeking forever always.

jts 03/02/2021

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020121 - Extinction Chronicles ·

Writing about the 2nd day of the nuyier on 1st day should prove interesting, if only - forgive the pun, for 20/20 hindsight. Just engaged a tall balding fellow from the state of Nebraska, as is part of my burden - the 1st thing out of my mouth was, “are you embarrassed coming from the same state as Warren Buffet; admittedly an asshole remark but useful for cutting through the bullshit introductory information. Within minutes i’d learned that he didn’t begrudge Warren his money, that he’d been a lifelong Democrat who’d switched gears and stood fully behind #45 with a fervence that surprised me. I was intrigued and found my curiosity more powerful than my abhorrence. A working class middle ‘merican, espousing strong nationalist bullet points, “protecting the borders, 'them' taking jobs, ANTIFA destruction etc., etc.,” When asked if he watched Fox News he averted his eyes as though mindful of that guilty pleasure and it’s effects on rational discourse; it was not a conversation i expected to have, but found myself oddly encouraged, not from the position of being able to convince someone of anything, but more an opportunity to learn the thinking of a ‘merican comrade. 

I have to laugh out loud that this calm turn of a new year might be the eye of a hurricane rather than the passing of a hideously destructive period in world history. Nor am i sure that where i am is someplace i’d choose to die, as had been the case of my first year here. I have learned things about myself i didn’t realize needed learning, not from “intention” as is the catchword for much hipster-doofus psycho-babble, but because it was a case between understanding myself more clearly or sink further and further into despair. I come from a bloodline that is steeped in Dysthymia, so depression is part and parcel of my makeup - enough so that like drinking, if i don’t tame it, it will tame me. This despair i speak of is the existential terror the sages speak of when the fragile human vessel is confronted by the logic of its ultimate decay - the sort of terror that gives rise to all the popular religions have used to manipulate the energies of humans throughout recorded history.

Where i want to go with the time left to me is where my spirit is full of the impulses i have been taught to feel shame for - not the salacious reaction-formation impulses that rise out of repression, but to yield to the yearning for singing, dancing, painting · yelping to our heart’s content. I find a deep seated need to acknowledge my ungovernable impulses that William Blake dwelt with and articulated so well - “those who restrain desire do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained.” How does this renegade notion square with the placid adjustment to our suffering advocated by Pema Chodron, Thich Nhat Hanh and his eminence the Dalai Lama? That is not a rhetorical question; i do not possess the patience of more disciplined scholars than myself; i ask because i am going to die and i do not wish to pass having betrayed this unique opportunity for growth. If i am to grow like some fucking twisted phoenix out of fire, then by Jiminy i’d prefer to be aware and awake than quiescent and oblivious as the shackles of +/- 5v wisdom would seemingly prefer me to be.

This is not to say i find my existence to be the center of our troubled world, rather it is the only universe i am free to wander through without constraint that is not of my own making. I was raised in a culture espousing freedom from both sides of its mouth - Free if: you’re white, willing to kill on command, have enough money, agree with the “right” people, object to the “wrong” people, etc., etc., etc. To that end my birth nation now has the distinction of containing 4.4% of the world’s population and 18+% of the jailed inmates. So it is natural for me to feel some quandary about the direction this monolith of “conventional wisdom” and its history of deceit in the interest of the HNWI handful takes toward our precarious future. Yet once again Madame Paradox and her twin offsprings “t’is and t’ain’t” demand i acknowledge herein publicly that my thinking was developed, nurtured and came into fruition within the bosom of this multiplicitous nursery. 

The stakes are no longer a post educational existence of fulfillment and gradual accumulation of comfort leading to a gentle demise surrounded by loved ones and a worthy legacy - now i fight for the survival of a DNA strand which i will in all likelihood possess no particle - the only contribution i can make is what you read herein or any conversation we might have in the lucky event we share air rather than this tenuous digital link. Sly and the Family Stone is singing “Everyday People” and i have no way to explain to the people in the venue where i just enjoyed my Nuyiersday meal the significance that song has had for me in years past; i myself begin to doubt the importance or even the usefulness i had once felt for music so deep and profound is my doubt. One thing i can comment on is the truth of Leonard Cohen’s quip about not making an important decision when you have to pee - he wasn’t lying · i just now had to avail myself of the facilities on both sides of my meal, thankful i did not have to make any important decision on either side. 

jts 01/02/2021

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