Yeah, this is less about reimagining capitalism, which is what I think about all the time, John, but it's more about the recognition of, of human potential and how beauty exists everywhere. And about how it's often in places we see as dark and overlooked that you can find the greatest beauty and it's another reason I so appreciate that you've integrated the arts. And Korea's bringing this beautiful music together. And so it is a story from Kenya. I haven't told it in a long time. But I I was working when I was when I was working with Wanda to help build due to them today, which was the name of our microfinance bank. I was realized the women themselves said you're going too fast. We can't keep up with you. So I we made this deal that I would work there two months. And then I would leave and I would go to Kenya and I worked with different women's groups in the slums. And then I would go back and see what had been done or what we could how I could help. It was more of an accompaniment model. So I was in the slums now in Nairobi, a particular slum called Midori Valley, which is known for a lot of violence and extreme poverty. It's a place known for flying toilets where the people have to defecate outside. Because there there are just no facilities. It's it's a mean place. There's also extraordinary beauty in it in the people. And one afternoon, I was exhausted, I'd been there for like 10 hours. And and I had this little Volkswagen that I owned that had only one working headlight, no safety belts. And I was just about to leave. But this was an authority Valley, right. So I'm in the bottom of a valley that is just a couple 100,000 people in these ticky tacky box houses. And the rains just poured open. And I could feel the wheels of my little car sinking in the mud and I thought, Oh, my goodness, I'm here all night now. And, and I was just I put my head back against the, against the seat. When I heard this little tap, tap, tap on my window. And I turn and there was this tiny woman with a wizened face these little tiny eyes and she was like Cujo, Cujo come here. And for whatever reason, I decided to follow her get out of the crowd, I had this big white cotton dress on which is now drenched. And I follow her through this little pathway, into a door of this ramshackle little hut. And inside, were about goodness, 10 or 20, women dancing cheek to cheek, their cheeks were held firmly against each other. And they were bent at the waist, and they were shaking their shoulders and use your lady. And, and they had Coke Can I mean, pop tops, those old bottles, you know, bottle tops, in strung around their ankles, in their stare their wrists. And so there was this, like, just that they were making in the rain was had this other rhythm on the, on the corrugated tin rooftop, and an old man was, was drumming on the on the ground. And that was the only music and it was extraordinary. And I didn't know what to do. So I figured, you know, can't beat him join him, I jumped in, I started dancing wildly, and I found myself fully lost in this feeling of femininity, and sexuality and sensuality, and nudity and passion and release. And it was extraordinary, I've never felt so lost in this, this artistic, euphoric expression of humanity. And then suddenly, this, the rain stopped. We all stood there, I was extremely awkward, drenched head to toe in sweat, and looked around the room and, and everyone started laughing. And I said goodbye. And the women helped me get my car moving. And I was drive drove home. And as I was driving home, I thought, okay, I get it. In the spaces, where human beings seemingly are stripped of so many things that we think are essential for us to live live, we find other ways we find beauty in each other, we find strength, and what it means to be particularly, you know, women who are ours can be so marginalized at the bottom of the whole pecking order. We find strength, we find solidarity, mostly we find the ability to recover and recognize our own beauty, our own strength, our own