Get Sleepy: Sleep meditation and stories - The Mystery of Fairy Lights (October Bonus #5)
Episode Date: October 31, 2025Narrator: Thomas Jones 🇬🇧Writer: Alicia Steffann ✍️Sound effects: nighttime crickets, distant river 🌌 🌊 Happy Halloween, sleepyheads! 🎃 Tonight, we’ll explore the mythology, or...igins and science of fairy lights. We’ll hear tales of the fairies and their mischief, of lost souls making up for bad deeds, and of deities who foretold the fate of mariners. 😴 Includes mentions of: Folklore, Fairytale, Fantastical Creatures, Science & Nature, Literature & Literary History, History, Devil, Mystery, Mythology, Myths & Legends, Halloween, Autumn, Darkness. LAST CHANCE to get your 90-day free trial of Get Sleepy Premium! Only available during October: slumberstudios.com/premium Get instant access to ad-free episodes and Thursday night bonus episodes by subscribing to our premium feed. It's easy! Sign up in two taps! Get Sleepy Premium feed includes: Monday and Wednesday night episodes (with zero ads). An exclusive Thursday night bonus episode. Access to the entire back catalog (also ad-free). Extra-long episodes. Exclusive sleep meditation episodes. Discounts on merchandise. We’ll love you forever. Connect Stay up to date on all our news and even vote on upcoming episodes! Website: getsleepy.com/ Facebook: facebook.com/getsleepypod/ Instagram: instagram.com/getsleepypod/ Twitter: twitter.com/getsleepypod Our Apps Redeem exclusive unlimited access to Premium content for 1 month FREE in our mobile apps built by the Get Sleepy and Slumber Studios team: Deep Sleep Sounds: deepsleepsounds.com/getsleepy/ Slumber: slumber.fm/getsleepy/ FAQs Have a query for us or need help with something? You might find your answer here: Get Sleepy FAQs About Get Sleepy Get Sleepy is the #1 story-telling podcast designed to help you get a great night’s rest. By combining sleep meditations with a relaxing bedtime story, each episode will guide you gently towards sleep. Thank you so much for listening! Feedback? Let us know your thoughts! getsleepy.com/contact-us/. Get Sleepy is a production of Slumber Studios. Check out our podcasts, apps, and more at slumberstudios.com. That’s all for now. Sweet dreams ❤️ 😴 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
Transcript
Discussion (0)
Get Sleepy is a production of Slumber Studios and is made possible thanks to the generous support of our sponsors and premium members.
If you'd like to listen ad-free and access weekly bonus episodes, extra long stories and our entire back catalogue,
you can try out premium free for seven days by following the link in the episode notes.
Now, a quick word from our sponsors.
Get Sleepy is sponsored by BetterHelp.
October 10th is World Mental Health Day
and this year BetterHelp is celebrating all the amazing therapists
who do such important work to make the world a better place.
From my own experience in therapy,
it feels incredibly freeing to have a space dedicated to working on my own mental health,
a space where I don't feel judged and can be completely,
open and true to myself. The key to feeling that level of comfort is finding the right therapist
for you, and BetterHelp has over 12 years experience in finding the right match. With an average rating
of 4.9 out of 5 for a live session based on over 1.7 million client reviews, BetterHelp's track
record speaks for itself. This World Mental Health Day, we're celebrating the therapists who've helped
millions of people take a step forward. If you're ready to find the right therapist for you,
BetterHelp can help you start that journey. Our listeners get 10% off their first month at
betterhelp.com slash get sleepy. That's BetterHelphelp.com slash get sleepy.
Rinse takes your laundry and hand delivers it to your door. Expertly cleaned and
folded so you could take the time once spent folding and sorting and waiting to finally pursue a
whole new version of you like tea time you or this tea time you or even this tea time you said you
said you hear about dave or even tea time tea time tea time you so update on dave it's up to you we'll take
the laundry rinse it's time to be great welcome to get sleep
Where we listen, we relax, and we get sleepy.
My name is Thomas and I'm your host.
It's so lovely to have your company and a very happy Halloween to anyone who celebrates or enjoys
the occasion.
This is the fifth and final bonus episode for the month of October and it's your
your last chance to try Get Sleepy Premium, or the entire Slumber Studios Premium bundle with
a 90-day free trial.
Once October is done, this amazing offer won't be available for at least another year.
With the 90-day free trial, you can listen to all our episodes completely add-free, access
our premium exclusive Thursday episodes, and enjoy our entire back catalogue of Stories
and meditations, dating all the way back to November 2019. It really is the very best time
to become a premium member. So, to enjoy your 90-day free trial, visit slumberstudios.com
slash premium, and I'll put a link in the show notes too. As for our story this evening,
I want to give a big thanks to Alicia Stefan for writing yet another intriguing, yet sleepy tale,
which I have the pleasure of reading for you.
Thousands of years ago, people began observing dancing flames and orbs in the darkness.
These elusive lights weren't celestial.
Rather, they seemed to be attached.
to the earth and the water.
Separately, cultures all over the globe
created stories to explain these mysterious beacons.
Tonight, we'll explore that mythology
and the science behind it.
We'll hear tales of the fairies and their mischief,
of lost souls making up for bad deeps.
and of deities who foretold the fate of mariners.
Before we set off in search of these ethereal apparitions, make yourself completely comfortable.
Adjust your pillow so that your head and neck rest heavily.
feel the pull of gravity as it encourages your limbs to embrace the support of the mattress.
Let all your cares of the day slip away.
And as you breathe more slowly and more deeply with each inhale,
and exhale. Close your eyes and lose yourself in the darkness you find there. This is where our story begins.
Imagine for a moment that you've been transported to a rural village in Ireland hundreds of years in the past.
You and your friends have just enjoyed a night of merriment.
Perhaps there was a celebration of some kind or a gathering at the home of a friend.
Whatever the case, you and your near neighbours are now walking home together through the
utter darkness of the autumn night.
In order to light your way, each of you carries a little carved turnip that contains a single
ember from the fireside you just left.
Your friends helped you fashion these rough lamps before your departure, amid much laughing
and many jokes.
the comical little root vegetables will give you welcome illumination to keep your steps
sure and your root as straight as possible. The night air is brisk. You pull your scarf more tightly
around your chin. As you travel this familiar path,
The leaves on the trees around you lightly rustle in the chilly breeze.
A faint smell of smoke drifts by on that wind, telling of a warm hearth in a home somewhere nearby.
You think of those folks nestled in their cottages and yourselves.
outside. You have fond thoughts for your warm bed at home and wish to reach it very soon. But even as you
near your destination, one of your friends whispers loudly and points into the darkness. A flame
name, he says breathlessly, gesturing to the marshy field.
You and your companions stop and stare, stepping almost imperceptibly closer to one another.
You hardly breathe as you watch and listen.
You see, nothing.
Your friend exclaims that it was there.
The fairies were about, he whispers.
You all laugh softly, chiding yourselves for your alarm.
But you link arms more tightly and hasten to finish your journey.
because each of you knows the fireside stories about the fairy lights.
Since you were a child, you've known about the bad luck that is bound to before those
who allow themselves to be led astray in pursuit of a distant flame.
As you bid your friends farewell and deposit your little jack-o'-lantern by the door,
you smile and shiver to yourself ever so slightly.
You turn towards the wilderness, offering the deep darkness of the landscape a final good night.
Then you open the door and find your way to the bright fire that still glows in your own hearth.
Through this imagined experience, you have walked in the steps of many a historical night-time wanderer.
The fleeting distant lights are cross-cultural, spanning continents and centuries, and appearing
in places ranging from swamps to salty oceans.
Lights on the night-time horizon have traditionally held a variety of meanings for the people who saw them.
For some, they were the mischief of a ghost or woodland sprite.
To others, they were omens, both good and bad, indicating what type of luck was coming.
But these widespread and unpredictable lights have one thing in common.
attributed to naughty sprites or saints and whether overland or sea, folklore has cast almost all of
them as supernatural in nature. Folk wisdom has advised those who saw them to keep their distance or protect
themselves with charms and rituals.
Such a fleeting display of mysterious lights has gone by many names, but there are a few that are
most well known.
One of those is Willa the Whisp, and it is often found in the folklore of Northern Europe.
Others are also likely to sound familiar.
For example, as the centuries passed, the tales of Willa the Whisp became intertwined with
those of the Jackalantan, now a much-loved tradition of modern Halloween and Sowan celebrations.
In both cases, the name refers to figures from folktales who carry a light through the darkness.
When people started to write about these lights, there were those who preferred to call these
mysterious flashes by a Latin phrase. They named them ignis fatuous, which roughly translates to
foolish fire. For many rural northern Europeans, the lights were attributed to fairies
early on. They were sometimes called elf fire.
Shakespeare seemed to be channeling this belief when he portrayed the mischievous Puck of
a Midsummer Night's dream.
In scene two of the famous play, a fairy asks of Puck, are you not he that frightes the
maidens of the villagery, mislead night wanderers laughing at their harm?
Puck later says, I'll follow you, I'll lead you about around, through bog, through bush, through
break, through briar, some time a horse I'll be, some time a hound, a hog, a headless bear,
sometime a fire, and nay and bark, and grunt and roar and burn, like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn.
The reference about misleading maidens to harm was well known in folklore before Shakespeare.
which generally portrayed these country spirits as creatures to be avoided.
They existed in many cultures and went by countless names.
In fact, Shakespeare didn't invent the name Puck.
It was already a word used to describe mischievous household and nature fairies.
Looking beyond the British Isles, you might have heard of the unpredictable mimmon
that glowed in Australia, or the serpent creature called the Boitata that could be found in Mexico.
In India, they whispered of the misleading Bramra choke with its pot of the pot of
fire, and in Korea, the Togebi-Pul or Goblin Fire could be seen in the rice paddies.
But perhaps one of the very earliest proofs of the phenomenon of fairy lights is found in a written
character from the Chinese Shang dynasty of the second millennium BCE.
which seems to represent a human-like figure, dancing over fire, and surrounded by dots.
Back in the British Isles, the lights of the Willa the Whisp were often attributed to a widely recognised folk fairy, named Robbing Goodfellow.
In fact, Shakespeare playfully embodied this familiar peasant figure with the character of Puck.
Shakespeare gave his puck familiar attributes of the naughty imp Robin, who was famously blamed in stories
for both good household deeds and all sorts of bawdy misbehavior.
behaviour, ranging from pinching and kissing maidens to stealing from villages.
In her 20th century book, an encyclopedia of fairies, accomplished folklorist Catherine
Briggs also pointed out how Shakespeare seems to make Park and Robin one and the same.
She wrote, Shakespeare's Puck is the epitome of the hobgoblin, with the by name of Robin Goodfellow.
In folk tradition, emphasis is perhaps most laid on Puck as a misleader.
She also noted that Robin was the best known and most often referred to of all the hobgoblins in England.
in the 16th and 17th centuries.
Indeed, in a sense, he seemed to swallow all others, and their names were made nicknames of his.
Robin seems to have been a very versatile and busy trickster,
similar to Shakespeare, who gave Puck the ability to appear
as fire. A poem generally attributed to 17th century writer Ben Johnson suggested Robin also produced
fairy lights. It said, sometimes he'd counterfeit a voice and travellers call astray, sometimes a walking
fire he'd be and lead them from their way.
Some call him Robbing Goodfellow, Hobgoblin or Mad Crisp, and some again do term him oft by name of Will the Whisp.
Apparently, after the Protestant Reformation, the Christian church made an earnest effort to stamp out talk of Robbing Goodfellow.
However, he was still well-liked, and the general population kept him around.
As mischievous spirits go, he was a survivor.
And so, beings like Robin, Puck, and the ubiquitous will with his wisp perpetuated
the pagan ideas about the causes of fairy lights, despite Christianity interfering.
The legendary poet John Milton brought together folklore and religion in his masterpiece Paradise
Lost during the 17th century. In one part, he alluded to wandering to wandering the
lights as the serpent led Eve astray.
He described it as a wandering fire, compact of unctuous vapour, which the night condenses,
and the cold environs round, kindled through agitation to a flame, which oft, they say,
some evil spirit attends.
Hovering and blazing with delusive light
misleads the amazed night wanderer from his way
to bogs and mayors
and oft through pond or pool.
And somewhere between the overtly pagan nature of the fairies
and the very religious nature of Milton
there was another category of folk tales that has existed to this day.
Those are the ones calling the lights a jackalantin, or one of the many variations on the idea of a person
who was fated to wander the wilderness. In Jack's case, because of his wrongdoings in life,
Consider the original Irish story of how the Jackalenton came to be.
A man named Jack made a poor gamble and tried to cheat the devil.
Although he initially succeeded in his trickery and managed to keep his soul, he found himself
stuck forever on earth as a result.
He didn't have to go home with the devil, but he was also blocked from heaven due to his sins.
As the story goes, he was fated to wander the countryside forever, with just an ember to light his way.
He has been known as Jacko the Lantern ever since.
While the folktale was first seen in print in the mid-19th century, it's hard to say how old
the concept of a jack-lantern really is.
early as 1658, the Oxford English Dictionary recorded the term being used to refer to the
phenomenon known perhaps by earlier folks as Willa the Whisp, and more formally in Latin,
as ignis fatuous. As we mentioned earlier, those terms really stuck, because they are still
around today.
Before that time, people may have been using lots of lesser-known names to describe a spirit
who carried a light around, although without any story as specific and moral as that
we find for Jack.
A search of folklore connected to Willa the Whist.
will turn up numerous human-sounding names for fairies or creatures who move to the light about.
For example, writings from the 19th and early 20th centuries reference people using kit of the candlestick,
Hobarty's lantern, or Pegger Lantern.
In fact, an article from the late 19th century quotes a poem from the 1777 issue of Poor Rubin's Almanac that mentions Peg.
I should indeed as soon expect that Pegelantam would direct me straightway home on misty night
as wandering stars quite out of sight.
Peg's dancing light does oft betray
and lead her followers astray.
Swedish folklore puts a more neighbourly and petty judgment on the spirit of Jack.
According to one source,
wandering country lights are the spirit of,
of men who moved important neighborly landmarks, so they are doomed to stroll around forever,
unable to find their way.
Some people might call that getting what you deserve.
Similarly, in Germany, the dancing lights have been attributed to dishonest land-servayers,
who are doomed to forever watch over the false boundaries they created.
Cornish people referred to a queen of the fairies in tandem with Jack,
who went by the name Joan Awad, which means Joan of Wad.
the torch.
But really, Joan would be more closely related to a creature like Robin Goodfellow, motivated
only by her supernatural objectives rather than morality.
And even the character known as Stingy Jack was transformed back into an earthy hobgoblin when
his mythology travelled to the southern United States.
According to an article in the Journal of American Folklore from 1904, people in those parts
portrayed a figure called Jack Marlantern, who was more like a goblin than a man, and who
was to be avoided at all costs due to his bad intentions.
And what if a traveller should encounter one of these light-bearing spirits, despite their best efforts?
Catherine Briggs related many general methods of repelling them, some of which were religious in nature.
But for simple folks, there was another method.
that came up in numerous sources.
She explained that a man who was pixie-led, wandering around and unable to find his way out
of the field, would generally turn his coat.
She further added that this may have been thought to act as a change of identity, for gamblers
often turned their coat to break a run of bad luck.
Likewise, those in the United States who had the bad luck to run into Jack Melanton
were urged to stick a knife in the ground, or to lie down with their eyes closed and ears
plugged. In Denmark, running into Jack required one to turn their cap inside out, and above all,
avoid pointing at him. One Scottish sprite named Spunky was seen making lights both
over land and sea, which bridged a gap between these earthpixes and their watery cousins,
who fascinated sailors. In fact, Shakespeare seems to have been intrigued by the idea of
Ignis Fatuus in both the land-based and seafaring settings.
In addition to his reference in a midsummer night's dream,
he also appeared to employ fairy lights in The Tempest.
Drawing upon the belief of Mediterranean sailors
that flashes of that light could foretell a storm,
he gave the fairy aerial that role.
She told Prospero,
I boarded the king's ship, now on the beak.
Now in the waist, the deck in every cabin, I flamed amazement.
Sometimes I'd divide and burn in many places.
On the topmast, the yards, the bowsprit would I flame distinctly.
Then meet and join Jove's lightning.
In this case, Ariel delivered the storm herself, but the imagery about the flashing lights
that appeared to almost taunt the sailors was reminiscent of the unpredictability of the
Willa the Whisp anywhere.
As we'll see later, it was a fairly accurate description of a real phenomenon found at
sea. In contrast to the people on land, who kept folk names for their fairy lights,
the sailors in other parts of Europe, many bordering the Mediterranean, attributed them more
commonly to deities or saints. Among the names given to the mariners' omens, were the
lights of St. Helen, St. Peter, St. Nicholas, and St. Elmo.
Long after Shakespeare, another author who captured those beliefs of the sailors was Henry
Wadsworth Longfellow. He wrote a poem called Christus a mystery, in
which he said, last night I saw St. Helmo's stars, with their glimmering lanterns all at play,
on the tops of the masts and the tips of the spars, and I knew we should have foul weather today.
Greek sailors attributed such lights to Helen of Troy, if they appeared only once in the
sky. If twice, they were supposed to be from her siblings, the Gemini twins,
Castor and Pollux. And even Magellan's account of his voyage to circumnavigate the globe
mentioned such fires. In his account, he called them after St. Anselm,
Jules Verne elevated this seafaring type of ignis fatuus to science fiction in his 19th century
novel Journey to the Center of the Earth.
During the onset of a storm, his narrator related.
On the mast already, I see the light play of a lambent,
St Helmo's fire. The outstretched sail catches not a breath of wind and hangs like a sheet of lead.
Taking a step back, it seems obvious that this great wealth of stories spanning centuries,
religions and countries cannot have been completely fabricated. Common sense tells us that there must
be some kind of scientific explanation for ignis fatuous, and that explanation has, in fact,
become increasingly certain in the past hundred years.
As it turns out, there are likely causes of ignis fatuus that do not involve spirits,
although the science differs from land to sea.
First, it's important to know that any fairyland
lights on land were most often reported in marshes, swamps and damp wooded areas.
Derek Gladwin, a sustainability fellow at the University of British Columbia, characterizes
these types of places in northern Europe as peatlands.
He says this is an umbrella term, for what might otherwise be called a bog, a fen, or a moor.
He points out that Peatlands have long been a setting for stories of the supernatural, providing
the perfect eerie backdrops for masterpieces such as Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights, or The Hound
of the Baskervilles by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
He further concludes that although we can't explain the phenomenon of the Willa the Whisp
with total certainty, we have a pretty good handle on how those peatland lights might
have been happening.
He turns to a chemist named Kit Chapman, who provides some
hard science on the processes involved.
In simple terms, marshes are rife with organic matter, and this creates gases.
One amazing fact about peatlands is that they are one of the largest sources of stored carbon
dioxide on the planet, holding about 25% of the
of all the soil carbon in the world.
That's double the amount held in our forests.
To quantify that further,
in the past 10,000 years,
peatlands have absorbed up to 1.2 trillion tons of carbon.
In the anaerobic environment of marshy land,
fermentation results in the release of gases called phosphine and diphosphane.
Although scientists don't agree upon the details, it's possible that one or both of these gases
can spontaneously ignite upon contact with the air, or in the case of phosphine, at least emit a low
low-level glow called chemoluminescence. Although the theories about these gases come
up most frequently, there are also scientists who suggest that the lights are caused by
bioluminescence from certain types of fungi. An article in Smithsonian magazine points
to studies performed using samples from places where these mushrooms are easily found, such
as Brazil and Vietnam.
They produce a compound called oxylocilyphrine, which was first discovered only recently
in 2015.
This compound emits light.
one of the types of luciferins also found in other plants and glowing animals, such as fireflies
and undersea creatures.
According to an article by Dr. Maria Wheeler Dubas at the Phipps Conservatory, there
are just over 70 species of these glowing fungi, which produce different
amounts of luciferins throughout any given 24-hour period.
In fact, these mushrooms actually have their own circadian rhythm.
Their glow peaks at night, and, as the Smithsonian explains, they use that glow to attract insects.
Those helpful bugs then spread the fungi spores to sheltered places where they can reproduce.
So the mushroom's ability to glow facilitates their survival as a species.
Could these mushrooms be the cause of the fairy lights that have attracted humans for centuries?
Still, there is a lot of skepticism.
To begin with, there are almost no documented sightings of this in the wild.
However, some scientists argue that virtually all ignis fatuous sightings have died out completely
due to the human development of wetlands for other uses, and the growth of light pollution,
which eliminates the darkness. Indeed, it is increasingly difficult for those of us in the modern
world to find a more worthy of Cathy and Heathcliff of Wuthering Heights. Although the legend of
foolish fire lives on in the eerie dead marshes of J.R.R. Tolkien, or in the comical fire swamps
of the Princess Bride, they would be tough to find in a real-life setting anymore.
Conditions may still be favourable for the occasional sighting of lights over the water, however.
That's because even though they seem similar to landlocked ignis fatuous in folklore,
the lights that mariners have long reported out at sea
are probably generated by a completely different natural phenomenon.
To start with, it probably doesn't surprise you to hear that these flashes that are
ignite in watery places aren't really fire. After all, fire and water are opposites,
right? On the website How Stuff Works, the phenomenon of ignis fatuous over the water is described as a
gap in electrical charge. Although it's most often spotted in the vicinity,
of a storm, this electrical phenomenon is not lighting.
As the article points out, that's probably why sailors weren't really afraid of it in centuries
past. Presenting as more of a glow, this type of mysterious light was viewed with more
reverence than fear, as it did not set their ships on fire.
Pliny the Elder provided one of the earliest accounts of this display of lights on ships.
Like the Greeks, he attributed it to the Gemini twins.
He described him as a luminous appearance.
like a star attached to the javelins on the ramparts.
He then further added,
they also settle on the yard arms and other parts of ships while sailing,
producing a kind of vocal sound,
like that of birds flitting about.
When they occur singly,
they are mischievous, so as even to sink the vessels, and if they strike on the lower part
of the keel, setting them on fire. When there are two of them, they are considered auspicious
and are thought to predict a prosperous voyage, as it is said that they drive away that
dreadful and terrific meteor, named Helena.
On this account, their efficacy is ascribed to Castor and Pollux, and they are invoked as gods.
They also occasionally shine round the heads of men in the evening, which is considered
as predicting something very important.
But there is great uncertainty respecting the cause of all these things, and they are concealed
in the majesty of nature.
Modern scientists can explain how that majesty of nature actually works.
It turns out St. Helmose fire is plasma.
or ionized air that emits a glow.
Unlike lightning, it's not the movement of electricity from a charged cloud to the ground.
Instead, it's just a spark, electrons bursting into the air.
This can happen when there's enough of an imbalance in electrical charge.
to cause the molecules to pull apart.
And just as Pliny the elder noticed,
there can even be a hissing sound that accompanies it.
The reason that Ignis Fatuus at sea
once seemed to foretell a storm
is because thunderstorms create more electrically charged conditions.
When that charge in the air comes into contact with a contrasting object, like the mast of a ship,
conditions are ripe for a luminous reaction.
And unlike lightning, it can last for up to several minutes, emitting an otherworldly blue glow.
This display happens readily around the same types of tapered surfaces that act as lightning rods,
such as church steeples and shipmasts.
That's why this kind of ignis fatuus has continued into the modern era,
even though we don't sail many ships with big masts anymore.
For example, sightings were reported around the Hindenburg in 1937
and around a World War II aeroplane in 1945.
Such phenomena were also frequently mentioned in books.
and referenced in films throughout the 20th century and beyond.
Whether they are made by cheeky sprites or awe-inspiring gods of old,
these mysterious lights will live on in our shared human experience.
Our ancestors didn't know about phosphines or bioluminescence, but they did know that the territories
of the wetlands were places to be respected at a distance, preserving a rich trove of biodiversity
in a space trod lightly by humans, if at all.
In his book, The Fairy Mythology of Shakespeare, David Nutt captured the blending of
of folktale and reality when he described the time-altering power of the peatlands.
He said, At night, the belated wanderer sees the fairy host dancing their rounds.
on many a green mead, allured by the strange enchantment of the scene he draws near, he enters
the round. If he ever reappears, months, years, or even centuries have passed, seeming but minutes
to him, but oftener he never returns, and is known to be living on in fairy, in the land of bliss.
Ignis Fatuus has stayed with mankind for millennia, always making us mindful that there are some flashes of
brilliance in nature that we cannot master. Better to simply appreciate them from afar,
and thank the fairies and the gods, hoping for good fortune.
Thank you.
I don't know.
You know,
you know,
You know,
I'm going to be able to be.
Thank you.
You know,
We're going to do.
You're going to be able to be.
So,
you know,
Thank you.
We're going to be.
We're going to be.
You know,
I'm sorry,
You know,
Oh,
Oh.
Oh.
And so,
you know,
I don't know.
We're going to be able to be.
You know,
Oh.
Oh.
So,
you know,
You know,
So, I'm going to be able to be.
You know,
I'm going to be.
...hearer.
...that...
...and...
...that...
...you...
...with...
You know,
I'm going to be able to be.
You know,
...toe,
...you know,
...
...
You know,
You know,
and
The
Oh,
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
We're going to be able to be.
And so,
you know,
you know,
you know,
You know,
I'm going to be able to be.
Thank you.
Thank you.
