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𝖳𝖺𝗋𝗒𝗇 𝖢𝗈𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖣𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖦𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝖣𝖺𝗇𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖬𝖺𝗋𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗀 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖯𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝖤𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖺𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗁, 𝖲𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗁 𝖠𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖼𝖺. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝖩𝖾𝗓.
𝖧𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗎𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝟣 𝗍𝗈 𝟤 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗁𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗈-𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋-𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗀 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗉𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉.
𝖠𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖩𝖾𝗓 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄𝗌, 𝖳𝖺𝗋𝗒𝗇 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾 𝖺 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝖩𝖾𝗓’𝗌 𝗎𝗇𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝖨𝗇 𝗂𝗍, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝖻𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗀𝗀𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗁𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖩𝖾𝗓, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗎𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁.
𝖨𝗍’𝗌 𝖺 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗉𝗂𝖾𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗃𝗈𝗒𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗅 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗎𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗇𝗎𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗀 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗁 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀.
𝖧𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝖩𝖾𝗓’𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝖳𝖺𝗋𝗒𝗇’𝗌 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌:
“𝖶𝖤 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗎𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗀. 𝖣𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝗋? 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗎𝗆𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿, 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗈𝖽, 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉, 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎.
𝖨𝗇 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖽𝗎𝗆𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝖾, 𝖨 𝖺𝗆 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾, 𝖦𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝖣𝖺𝗇𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝖾, 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖿𝗎𝗋 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝖺𝗋, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍. 𝖡𝖾𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍, 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎? 𝖡𝖾𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇.
𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗎𝗆𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗎𝗇 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿𝖿? 𝖣𝗂𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗐 𝗆𝗂𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀? 𝖤𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖺 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗀𝗎𝗂𝗅𝗍? 𝖣𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗅𝖾𝖽𝗀𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗋𝗎𝖾𝗅, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗇𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾, 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋?”
“𝖨𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝟦𝟧 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗎𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗀, 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗁𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗀𝗀𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾.
𝖣𝗂𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗎𝗅, 𝗋𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗅, 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖦𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝖣𝖺𝗇𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗓𝗓𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗋𝗒, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍?
𝖣𝗂𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗅𝖿 𝗈𝖿 𝖯𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝖤𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖺𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗁 (𝖲𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗁 𝖠𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖼𝖺) 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗀, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗍, 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝖾𝗍𝗌, 𝗍𝗈𝗒𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗏𝗂𝗏𝖾.
“𝖶𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗀, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗐𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗎𝗌.
𝖶𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝖺𝖿𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗐, 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗇𝗈 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇, 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗆, 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖿𝗎𝗅, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗃𝗈𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝗎𝗍.
𝖶𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗀, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒.
𝖶𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖻𝖾 𝗁𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗋𝗒, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗌𝗁 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋. 𝖶𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗌, 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝖻𝖾𝖽𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗌.
𝖶𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾, 𝗐𝖾 𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖻𝖾𝗌, 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗏𝗂𝗏𝖾, 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾, 𝗌𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎.”
“𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗀. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾𝖽, 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗀, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀.
𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗍.
𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾, 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗁𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝗇𝗈 𝖽𝗈𝗎𝖻𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖾𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝖽𝗈𝗀 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖺𝗉𝗌𝖾𝖽, 𝖽𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗋, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍.”
“𝖨 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗌. 𝖨 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖻𝖺𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗂𝗌; 𝖨 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗆𝗌 𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖺𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽.
𝖨 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖦𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝖣𝖺; 𝖨 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾, 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖨 𝖺𝗆 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾, 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾.
𝖨𝖿 𝖸𝖮𝖴 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝖽𝗈𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝖺 𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗉𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋.
𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝖽𝗂𝗀𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗒, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗌𝖺𝖿𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖽𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗀, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝖺𝗆 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝗉𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀.”
“𝖠𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝖽𝖽𝗌, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗀 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖽, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗀𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾, 𝖩𝖾𝗓, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾.
𝖣𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗎𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗀, 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝖽𝗈𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇.
𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖺𝗐𝖾𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗀 𝗂𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝖩𝖾𝗓 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋𝗌, 𝗈𝗇 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖽, 𝖼𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗒 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝖾𝗍. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗆, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖺𝖿𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽.
“𝖶𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗎𝗌. 𝖧𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗏𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾, 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌.
𝖶𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽, 𝗐𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗐𝖺𝗒, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗐𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗇, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗎𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝗋.
𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖾𝖾, 𝗐𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇’𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉, 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗇𝗎𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾. 𝖣𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝟦 𝖽𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗎𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗅 𝗌𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍.”
“𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗁𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽’𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖾𝖽, 𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝖿 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽, 𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝗆𝖾. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗒, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗂𝖼𝗄, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗑, 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖻𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍.
𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗀 𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾, 𝖺𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖺 𝖽𝗈𝗀, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾, 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗑𝗂𝗌𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗑. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖽𝗈 𝗂𝗍. 𝖤𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗀, 𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝗂𝗑𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇.”
“𝖶𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖶𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗒, 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗍𝗁𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒. 𝖶𝖾 𝖼𝖾𝗅𝖾𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝖾𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗈𝖽, 𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗎𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗋𝖺𝗉 𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗌𝖾.
𝖶𝖾 𝖼𝖾𝗅𝖾𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝗒, 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗀 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗇𝗀𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖺 𝖽𝗈𝗀, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾.
𝖶𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝖾𝗑𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗅𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗀𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝗎𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄. 𝖶𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾, 𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗀𝗒, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗎𝗉, 𝗋𝖾𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗎𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗀 𝖼𝖺𝗇.”
“𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗀, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗑𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝖡𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗎𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗋, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗅𝖾𝖽𝗀𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖩𝖾𝗓 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗐𝖺𝗒.
𝖣𝗋 𝖥𝖾𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖺 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖶𝖺𝗅𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖵𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗂𝗉 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗀𝗀𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁.
“𝖬𝗒 𝗁𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖺𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗀, 𝖻𝗒 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗎𝗌. 𝖧𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝖽, 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝖧𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝖺𝗍.
𝖧𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗁𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖶𝖠𝖭𝖳𝖤𝖣 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗌𝖺𝖿𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽. 𝖬𝗒 𝗁𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗐𝖾𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖩𝖾𝗓 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗆 𝖽𝖾𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗀𝗒.”
“𝖨 𝖿𝗂𝗑𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗀. 𝖨 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗄 𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗄 𝗎𝗉, 𝖨 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗆𝗎𝗓𝗓𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝖨 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝖽𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈𝖾𝗇𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖾𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆.
𝖨 𝗆𝗂𝗑𝖾𝖽 𝗇𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝖺𝗑 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝗌𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝖾𝗇𝖽, 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗅, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗆𝖺𝖼𝗁, 𝗌𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗋𝗎𝖾𝗅.
“𝖬𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗓𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖾 𝖥𝖾𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖺 𝖿𝗂𝗑𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗀, 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗑𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗑 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾.
𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖩𝖾𝗓’𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗌, 𝖼𝗈-𝖼𝗈𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝖿, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌, 𝖿𝖾𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗉𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗌; 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗓𝗓𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖩𝖾𝗓’𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗎𝖾𝗋, 𝖡𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾, 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗎𝖻𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖿𝗂𝗑 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗀.
𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗅𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗎𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝖯𝖤 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗐𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗇𝗈 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝗂𝗑𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗀.”
“𝖧𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗑𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗀. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾 𝖾-𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗌 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗈𝖽, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝗇 𝖥𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗄, 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝗎𝗇𝖿𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝖾 𝗎𝗉𝗅𝗈𝖺𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖼𝖾𝗅𝖾𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗎𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖩𝖾𝗓.
𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋 – 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗀. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖿𝗎𝗅, 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾, 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗆𝖾𝗍 𝖩𝖾𝗓, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗅𝗒 – 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗌𝖺𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗀.”
“𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗀 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗁. 𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗍𝗁, 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝗉𝗁𝗒𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒.
𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁, 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝖾, 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝖽𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁. 𝖨 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇, 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖺𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗌𝗎𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗂𝗓𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗅𝖾𝖽.
𝖨 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝖺𝗍 𝟤𝖺𝗆 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝖽, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝗐𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖨 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖽𝗈 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝖨 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅.”
“𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝖾𝖽, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗀𝖾𝖽, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝖨 𝖼𝗋𝗒, 𝗌𝗈𝖻𝖻𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖺𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗎𝗀𝗅𝗒 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌, 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝖨 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖼𝗋𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾. 𝖨 𝖼𝗋𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖩𝖾𝗓’𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾, 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗑𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗀.
𝖳𝗐𝗈 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗍𝗈𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖩𝖾𝗓 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗁𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗎𝗉 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝗈𝖿𝖿, 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗎𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗅, 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋.
𝖲𝗈 𝗒𝖾𝗌, 𝖨 𝖼𝗋𝗒, 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖩𝖾𝗓 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾, 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖩𝗎𝗅𝗂𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖭𝗂𝖼𝗈, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝖦𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝖣𝖺𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖨 𝖺𝗆 𝗌𝗈, 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖩𝖾𝗓, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗎𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗌.”
“𝖯𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗌𝗄 𝗆𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖨 𝖽𝗈 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖨 𝖽𝗈, 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖨 𝖿𝗈𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗎𝗉, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌, 𝖨 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖨 𝖽𝗈 𝗂𝗍 𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖨 𝖽𝗈 𝗂𝗍, 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝗂𝗍, 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗋𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖨 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇.
“𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗆𝖺𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗎𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾, 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍, 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗎𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗀𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝗈 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝗈 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇, 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗀, 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗑 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍.”
