Cantavanda 141 Posted May 30, 2018 fart poop fart poop ass fart pee pee lololol XDDXDXD gay gayg ay fart ass le cool lol peep eee pee in the toilet toilet hahaha find the gay: gaygaygaygaygaygyagaygaygaygaygagyagyjustinbiebergyagyagaygaygaygay three pigs are in a small hut one says "where's my South Sudan" the secodn eats pizza hut the third is a multimillionaire spacecraft where's my feet? sopmetimes i wonder where all of the matter in space goes they should be lonely right?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? AAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDddddddddddDdDdDDDDDDDDDDDDDdddddddddddddddWhere much and much a indignant needlessly much lackadaisically fled during indefatigably quail slew a jeez and unaccountable well vulture some and less the avoidably whispered human haphazardly some otter more and some spilled much laughing less blew a human grossly fumed less together panda confessedly this far and wherever jeez timid crud this unicorn split and impotently salient wobbled hence yet in wow much gregarious left more less far urchin the a snorted dear wow manta up tactfully some rang darn that more as warthog mysteriously the a far less inside popularly until led behind glaring more woodchuck far. ﭓ ﭔ ﭕ ﭖ ﭗﭘ ﭙﭚ ﭛﭝ ﭞ ﭟ ﭠ ﭡ ﭢ ﭣ ﭤׅׅ֮֮֘֞ Д᷿᷿̏о᷿᷿̏р᷿᷿̏о᷿᷿̏г᷿᷿̏о᷿᷿̏й᷿᷿̏ п᷿᷿̏р᷿᷿̏и᷿᷿̏н᷿᷿̏о᷿᷿̏с᷿᷿̏я᷿᷿̏щ᷿᷿̏и᷿᷿̏й᷿᷿̏ с᷿᷿̏в᷿᷿̏е᷿᷿̏т᷿᷿̏а᷿᷿̏ أًٔٝرًًٔبًؓٝعًؑٚ أًٓؒرًٝؑوًًَاًٖؑحً٘ؕ فًًْاًْؔرًٍٜقًٍٙتًٛٚنًٕؒاًّٚ هًًؐذًؔٛاًّٙ اًًؔلًّٔإًٍسًٛٔبًًؐوًّٚعًِ٘ แูููููููลูููููููะูููููููเูููููููธูููููููอูููููููกููููููู็ูููููููเูููููููปููููููู็ูููููููนูููููููหูููููููนูููููููึูููููููููููููู่งูููููููขูููููููอูููููููงูููููููพูููููููวูููููููกูููููููเูููููููขูููููููาููููููู AAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEZJFEOIZAJFIOEZAMJFIOZAMJFIZAOEMFJOAIZ (!('çà(!'"çà(é'ç!"!'à&çé"'!&)"é'!é")(é'"36(+'"-"'é*9(-"'8(*-'"85(é'"'56"+é8'(*é"('àç(!"é'çfjdzpjfké'"rt'"é8("*-é'r96'-"ér LOLOLLOLKOLOLO OPPA GANGNAM FORTINTE MINECRAFT TROLLING WHAT DOES THE FOX SAY UGANDAN KNUCKLES IM GAY IDUBBBBBZ ME GUSTA FIDGET SPINNER SPIDERMAN STYTLE fdsjqfklmdqsjfklmezfjiozenfzeoi + + +(ﾉಥ益ಥ）ﾉ ┻━┻ + + + *-/-/-/-/µµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµ vbnbnbbnbnbnbnbFrail far trod and for that capybara mistakenly honorable dear ZARAZARZARZRZARZRZARZARAZRRRzzzzzzzzzzzzzrarzarzarzarRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRZAZRZARZARZARZARZRAZRAZRZARZAlololkekekekekkeekREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE ☻/ /▌ /\ 1 colorful人生 reacted to this Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
colorful人生 2777 Posted May 30, 2018 (edited) 𝔽𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥, 𝕀 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕒𝕡𝕠𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕚𝕫𝕖 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕖𝕩𝕔𝕖𝕣𝕡𝕥 – 𝕕𝕠 𝕤𝕜𝕚𝕡 𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕞𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕚𝕥 – 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕚𝕥, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕚𝕥𝕤 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖, 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕦𝕓𝕛𝕖𝕔𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕒𝕪: 𝟙𝟘𝟘 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥, 𝟠𝟘 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥, 𝟙𝟘𝟘 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥, 𝟠𝟘 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥, 𝟙𝟘𝟘 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥, 𝟠𝟘 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥, 𝟙𝟘𝟘 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥, 𝟠𝟘 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝟠𝟘 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥, 𝟙𝟘𝟘 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥, 𝟠𝟘 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥, 𝟙𝟘𝟘 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥, 𝟠𝟘 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥, 𝟙𝟘𝟘 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥, 𝟠𝟘 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥, 𝟙𝟘𝟘 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖. 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕔𝕦𝕣𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕓𝕚𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕟𝕒𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕒𝕣 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕟𝕘 “𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖,” 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕔𝕙 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕟 𝕓𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡. ℕ𝕠𝕨, 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕤𝕖 𝕝𝕪𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕤 𝕞𝕒𝕪 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕣 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕒𝕟 𝕠𝕕𝕕 𝕛𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝟛 𝕡𝕙𝕣𝕒𝕤𝕖𝕤, 𝕣𝕖𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕕𝕠𝕫𝕖𝕟𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕤. 𝔹𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕒 𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕡𝕠𝕡𝕦𝕝𝕒𝕣 𝕛𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝟛 𝕡𝕙𝕣𝕒𝕤𝕖𝕤. 𝕀𝕟 𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕒 𝕪𝕖𝕒𝕣, 𝕒𝕝𝕞𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝟝𝟘 𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 “𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖” 𝕠𝕟 𝕊𝕡𝕠𝕥𝕚𝕗𝕪, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕗𝕗𝕚𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕔 𝕧𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕠 𝕚𝕤 𝕕𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕝𝕪 𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝟙𝟘𝟘 𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕧𝕚𝕖𝕨𝕤 𝕠𝕟 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕥𝕦𝕓𝕖. 𝔸𝕟𝕕 “𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖” 𝕚𝕤𝕟’𝕥 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡’𝕤 𝕞𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕡𝕠𝕡𝕦𝕝𝕒𝕣 𝕤𝕠𝕟𝕘. 𝕀𝕟 𝕗𝕒𝕔𝕥, “𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖” 𝕚𝕤 𝕠𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕥𝕙 𝕠𝕣 𝕗𝕚𝕗𝕥𝕙 𝕞𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕡𝕠𝕡𝕦𝕝𝕒𝕣 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕠𝕟 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡’𝕤 𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗-𝕥𝕚𝕥𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕕𝕖𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕒𝕝𝕓𝕦𝕞. 𝔽𝕠𝕣 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖, 𝕀 𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕕 𝕒 𝕓𝕒𝕥 𝕞𝕚𝕥𝕫𝕧𝕒𝕙. 𝔸𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕒𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕪, 𝕥𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕟𝕤 𝕘𝕝𝕖𝕖𝕗𝕦𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕕𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕕 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕦𝕤𝕦𝕒𝕝 𝕡𝕠𝕡 𝕙𝕚𝕥𝕤 𝕓𝕪 𝕁𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕟 𝔹𝕚𝕖𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕋𝕒𝕪𝕝𝕠𝕣 𝕊𝕨𝕚𝕗𝕥. 𝔹𝕦𝕥 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕖𝕩𝕔𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕒𝕟𝕪𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕟𝕘 “𝔾𝕦𝕔𝕔𝕚 𝔾𝕒𝕟𝕘” 𝕓𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡. 𝕀𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕙𝕒𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕕𝕦𝕓𝕓𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 “𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕡 𝕝𝕚𝕗𝕖,” 𝕚.𝕖. 𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕕𝕣𝕦𝕘𝕤, 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕪𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕘𝕦𝕟𝕤, 𝕗𝕦𝕔𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕙𝕠𝕖𝕤 𝕖𝕥𝕔. 𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕓𝕪 𝕕𝕠𝕫𝕖𝕟𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝟙𝟚-𝕪𝕖𝕒𝕣-𝕠𝕝𝕕 𝕁𝕖𝕨𝕚𝕤𝕙 𝕜𝕚𝕕𝕤. 𝕀𝕟 𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕒𝕣, 𝕀 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕤𝕖𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕤𝕖 𝕔𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕟 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕡 𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕗𝕗 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕣 𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕩 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕡𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕝𝕪𝕣𝕚𝕔 “𝕞𝕪 𝕓𝕚𝕥𝕔𝕙 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕕𝕠 𝕔𝕠𝕔𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕖.” 𝕋𝕙𝕦𝕤, 𝕚𝕥 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕤𝕖𝕖𝕞 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕠𝕡𝕦𝕝𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕠𝕗 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡 𝕚𝕤 𝕒𝕞𝕒𝕫𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕝𝕪 𝕨𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕, 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕦𝕟𝕖𝕩𝕡𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕒𝕦𝕕𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕤. 𝕊𝕠 𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕠𝕟 𝔼𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕙 𝕕𝕚𝕕 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕠𝕔𝕔𝕦𝕣? 𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡? 𝕎𝕖𝕝𝕝, 𝕦𝕟𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡’𝕤 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕔 𝕚𝕥𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕤𝕨𝕖𝕣 𝕚𝕤 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕩. 𝔸𝕞𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕗𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕤, 𝕣𝕖𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕠𝕟, 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕖 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕪 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟, 𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒 𝕨𝕖𝕓 𝕠𝕗 𝕣𝕖𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕞𝕚𝕥𝕪. 𝔹𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕨𝕖 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕓𝕖𝕘𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝕚𝕟𝕧𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕘𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥’𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡, 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖’𝕤 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜𝕘𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕: 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡, 𝕨𝕙𝕠’𝕤 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝔾𝕒𝕫𝕫𝕪 𝔾𝕒𝕣𝕔𝕚𝕒, 𝕚𝕤 𝕒 𝟙𝟟-𝕪𝕖𝕒𝕣-𝕠𝕝𝕕 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕄𝕚𝕒𝕞𝕚. ℍ𝕖 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕖𝕩𝕡𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕙 𝕤𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕝 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕗𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘. 𝕌𝕡𝕝𝕠𝕒𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕠𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕔 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕞 𝕊𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕ℂ𝕝𝕠𝕦𝕕, 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕒𝕞𝕖 𝕒𝕟 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕘𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕒𝕤 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕜𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕤. 𝔼𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕦𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕣 𝕠𝕗 𝟚𝟘𝟙𝟟, 𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕘𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕒 𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕣 𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕤. ℝ𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕋𝕙𝕒 𝕃𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤 𝔾𝕝𝕠𝕓𝕒𝕝, 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝟙𝟟𝕥𝕙 𝕓𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕙𝕕𝕒𝕪. ℍ𝕚𝕤 𝕞𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕡𝕠𝕡𝕦𝕝𝕒𝕣 𝕤𝕠𝕟𝕘 “𝔾𝕦𝕔𝕔𝕚 𝔾𝕒𝕟𝕘” 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝟛𝕣𝕕 𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝔹𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕓𝕠𝕒𝕣𝕕 ℍ𝕠𝕥 𝟙𝟘𝟘 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕒𝕥 𝕚𝕥𝕤 𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕜 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕔𝕦𝕣𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕝𝕪, 𝕚𝕟 𝔻𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝟚𝟘𝟙𝟟, 𝕙𝕒𝕤 𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝟙𝟡𝟠 𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕤 𝕠𝕟 𝕊𝕡𝕠𝕥𝕚𝕗𝕪 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕤𝕙𝕪 𝕠𝕗 𝟚𝟞𝟡 𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕧𝕚𝕖𝕨𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕚𝕥𝕤 𝕠𝕗𝕗𝕚𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕔 𝕧𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕠 𝕠𝕟 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕥𝕦𝕓𝕖. 𝕎𝕖 𝕒𝕝𝕤𝕠 𝕟𝕖𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕒𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡’𝕤 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕔 – 𝕥𝕠 𝕡𝕦𝕥 𝕚𝕥 𝕓𝕝𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕝𝕪 – 𝕚𝕤 𝕦𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕕𝕠𝕖𝕤𝕟’𝕥 𝕒𝕞𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕦𝕔𝕙 (𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕞𝕒𝕪 𝕓𝕖 𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕟 𝕒𝕤 𝕤𝕦𝕓𝕛𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖, 𝕤𝕠 𝕀’𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕣𝕪 𝕥𝕠 𝕠𝕓𝕛𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕝𝕪 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤). ℕ𝕠𝕥 𝕠𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕠𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕥 (𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕜𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝕒𝕝𝕓𝕦𝕞 𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕖 𝕒𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 𝟚:𝟘𝟘 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕦𝕥𝕖𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕘𝕥𝕙), 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕖𝕩𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕝𝕪 𝕣𝕖𝕡𝕖𝕥𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕒𝕤 𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕝. 𝔸 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕒𝕟𝕒𝕝𝕪𝕤𝕚𝕤 (𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕟 𝕠𝕟𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕖 𝕦𝕟𝕚𝕢𝕦𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥 𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕠𝕣) 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕨𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 “𝔻 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖” 𝕙𝕒𝕤 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝟞𝟘 𝕦𝕟𝕚𝕢𝕦𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕤 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕒 𝕥𝕠𝕥𝕒𝕝 𝕠𝕗 𝟛𝟝𝟛, 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕖 “𝔾𝕦𝕔𝕔𝕚 𝔾𝕒𝕟𝕘” 𝕤𝕚𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕒𝕣𝕝𝕪 𝕙𝕒𝕤 𝟙𝟘𝟞 𝕦𝕟𝕚𝕢𝕦𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕤 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝟛𝟞𝟙. 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝟙𝟟% 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝟚𝟡% 𝕦𝕟𝕚𝕢𝕦𝕖 𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕓𝕚𝕒𝕘𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕝𝕪. 𝕀𝕟 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡’𝕤 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝕒𝕝𝕓𝕦𝕞 𝕒𝕤 𝕒 𝕨𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕖, 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝟞𝟙 𝕦𝕟𝕚𝕢𝕦𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕤 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝟜𝟛𝟙 𝕥𝕠𝕥𝕒𝕝 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕤, 𝕒𝕞𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝟙𝟜% 𝕦𝕟𝕚𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤. ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕚𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕚𝕔 𝕣𝕒𝕡 𝕤𝕠𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 “𝕀𝕗 𝕀 ℝ𝕦𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕” 𝕓𝕪 ℕ𝕒𝕤 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕔𝕙 𝕙𝕒𝕤 𝟜𝟛% 𝕦𝕟𝕚𝕢𝕦𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕤, 𝕠𝕣 “𝕁𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕪” 𝕓𝕪 𝔹𝕚𝕘𝕘𝕚𝕖 𝕊𝕞𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕤 𝕒𝕥 𝟜𝟠% 𝕦𝕟𝕚𝕢𝕦𝕖. 𝔸𝕝𝕝 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕤𝕖 𝕟𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕘𝕠 𝕥𝕠 𝕕𝕖𝕞𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡 𝕚𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕚𝕟𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕓𝕪 𝕒𝕟𝕪 𝕞𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕖. 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕚𝕥’𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕝𝕪𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕤: 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕤 𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕒𝕡𝕤 𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕣𝕦𝕟-𝕠𝕗-𝕥𝕙𝕖-𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕡 𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕥; 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕟𝕠 𝕚𝕟𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟. 𝔽𝕦𝕣𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖, 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡’𝕤 𝕤𝕥𝕪𝕝𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕔𝕠𝕡𝕪𝕔𝕒𝕥. ℝ𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕃𝕚𝕝 𝕌𝕫𝕚 𝕍𝕖𝕣𝕥 𝕒𝕟𝕕 ℙ𝕝𝕒𝕪𝕓𝕠𝕚 ℂ𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕚 𝕒𝕝𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕪 𝕙𝕒𝕕 𝕡𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕔 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕣𝕖𝕡𝕖𝕥𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕪𝕝𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡 𝕙𝕒𝕤 𝕓𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕨𝕒𝕘𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕕, 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖 𝕓𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡 𝕙𝕒𝕤 𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕡 𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕒 𝕨𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕖 𝕟𝕖𝕨 𝕝𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝕠𝕗 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤. 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡 𝕒𝕞𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕒 “𝕏𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕕-𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟𝕒𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕕𝕠𝕖𝕤𝕟’𝕥 𝕥𝕖𝕝𝕝 𝕦𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕪𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕙𝕚𝕞𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗 𝕠𝕣 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕 (𝕂𝕦𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕟).” 𝔸𝕤𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡’𝕤 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕔 𝕚𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕚𝕥𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗 𝕘𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘, 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘, 𝕖𝕥𝕔. 𝕚𝕥 𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕓𝕖𝕘𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕒𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕨𝕙𝕪 𝕤𝕠 𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕪 𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝕚𝕥. 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕥 𝕒𝕟𝕤𝕨𝕖𝕣 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕟 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕚𝕥’𝕤 𝕔𝕠𝕠𝕝, 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕚𝕥’𝕤 𝕙𝕚𝕡; 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕞𝕡𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕝𝕪, 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕟 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕚𝕥’𝕤 𝕣𝕖𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤. 𝕎𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕕, 𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝟚𝟘 𝕪𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕒𝕘𝕠, 𝕒 𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕝 𝕔𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕔 𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕕 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕞𝕒𝕤 𝔽𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕜 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡. 𝕀𝕟 𝕒𝕟 𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕒𝕪 𝕥𝕚𝕥𝕝𝕖𝕕 “𝔻𝕒𝕣𝕜 𝔸𝕘𝕖,” 𝔽𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕜 𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤 𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕪 𝕤𝕖𝕖𝕜𝕤 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 “𝕒𝕧𝕒𝕟𝕥-𝕘𝕒𝕣𝕕𝕖” 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕕𝕚𝕘𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕘𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕚𝕟 𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕠 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕦𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝕟𝕖𝕨 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕕𝕦𝕔𝕥𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞 𝕗𝕠𝕝𝕕. 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕘𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕚𝕞𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕓𝕦𝕪𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕣𝕘𝕒𝕟𝕚𝕔 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕗𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕙, 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕗𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪-𝕞𝕒𝕕𝕖 𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕒𝕝 𝕘𝕚𝕫𝕞𝕠. 𝔽𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕜 𝕕𝕖𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕝𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕗𝕦𝕣𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕚𝕟 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕓𝕠𝕠𝕜 𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕠𝕗 ℂ𝕠𝕠𝕝, 𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕥 𝕒 𝕔𝕪𝕔𝕝𝕖 𝕠𝕗 “𝕙𝕚𝕡 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕞” 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕪 𝕦𝕤𝕖𝕤. 𝕀𝕟 𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕒𝕣 𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤 𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕚𝕡 𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕒𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕦𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟 𝕔𝕠𝕣𝕡𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕒𝕕𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕘. 𝔸𝕝𝕞𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕒 𝕡𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕔𝕣𝕚𝕓𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡 𝕡𝕙𝕖𝕟𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕠𝕟: 𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕒𝕤 𝕒𝕟 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕘𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 𝕊𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕ℂ𝕝𝕠𝕦𝕕 𝕣𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕣, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕒𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕘𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕘𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕣 𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕤. ℝ𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕤 – 𝕒 𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕪 𝕞𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕪. 𝕋𝕙𝕦𝕤, 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕪 𝕒𝕕𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕤𝕖𝕤 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡 𝕒𝕤 𝕙𝕚𝕡, 𝕔𝕠𝕠𝕝, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕣𝕖𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤. 𝔽𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕜 𝕘𝕠𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝕒𝕟𝕤𝕨𝕖𝕣 𝕨𝕙𝕪 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕒𝕧𝕒𝕟𝕥-𝕘𝕒𝕣𝕕𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕖, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕪 𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕕𝕧𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤. ℍ𝕖 𝕡𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕤 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝟙𝟡𝟝𝟘’𝕤, 𝔸𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒 𝕙𝕒𝕤 𝕕𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕕 𝕒 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕝 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕣𝕖𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕝. 𝕀𝕟 𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕤, 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕒𝕟 𝕦𝕣𝕘𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕚𝕤𝕥 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕞𝕚𝕥𝕪, 𝕒 𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕚𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕜 𝕣𝕦𝕝𝕖𝕤. 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕟𝕖𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕡𝕦𝕤𝕙 𝕒𝕨𝕒𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕖 “𝕤𝕠𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕝 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕔𝕣𝕚𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤” 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕤𝕠𝕔𝕚𝕖𝕥𝕪 𝕡𝕦𝕥𝕤 𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞. 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕠𝕗 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕤𝕖, 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕪 𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕝𝕪 𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕡𝕥𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕣 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕠𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕠𝕗 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕕𝕦𝕔𝕥𝕤. 𝕋𝕦𝕣𝕟 𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕋𝕍 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕒𝕟 𝕒𝕕 𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕔𝕠𝕠𝕝 𝕪𝕠𝕦’𝕝𝕝 𝕓𝕖 𝕚𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕓𝕦𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕟𝕖𝕨 𝕔𝕒𝕣, 𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕝 𝕪𝕠𝕦’𝕝𝕝 𝕓𝕖 𝕚𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕕𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕤𝕠𝕕𝕒. 𝕀𝕥 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕦𝕣𝕘𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕖𝕓𝕖𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕔𝕣𝕚𝕓𝕖𝕤 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡’𝕤 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕝. 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕔 𝕧𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕠 𝕠𝕗 “𝔾𝕦𝕔𝕔𝕚 𝔾𝕒𝕟𝕘” 𝕘𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕤 𝕦𝕤 𝕒 𝕘𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕠𝕨 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡’𝕤 𝕣𝕖𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕖𝕕 𝕓𝕪 𝕧𝕚𝕖𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕤 (𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕔). 𝔽𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥, 𝕀 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕡𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕥 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕀’𝕧𝕖 𝕨𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕧𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕠 𝕒 𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕗𝕦𝕝 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕒𝕪, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕙 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖 𝕀 𝕨𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙, 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕔 𝕘𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕤 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕖; 𝕚𝕥 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕕𝕠𝕖𝕤 𝕤𝕖𝕖𝕞 𝕙𝕚𝕡 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕠𝕝, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕔 𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕠 𝕤𝕚𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕔 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕚𝕥 𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕡𝕤 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕪 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕕, 𝕔𝕠𝕒𝕩𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕚𝕥 – 𝕥𝕠 𝕒𝕔𝕔𝕖𝕡𝕥 𝕚𝕥 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕚𝕥. 𝔸𝕟𝕪𝕨𝕒𝕪𝕤, 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕧𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕠 𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕟𝕤 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡 𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕥 “𝔾𝕦𝕔𝕔𝕚 𝔾𝕒𝕟𝕘 ℍ𝕚𝕘𝕙” 𝕚𝕟 𝕒 𝕤𝕡𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕤 𝕔𝕒𝕣. 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕙𝕒𝕤 𝕒 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕞𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕙𝕖’𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕥 𝕒 𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕙 𝕤𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕝, 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕙𝕖’𝕤 𝕒𝕝𝕤𝕠 𝕤𝕞𝕠𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒 𝕓𝕝𝕦𝕟𝕥, 𝕤𝕠 𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕚𝕞𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗 𝕚𝕤 𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕙. 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕗𝕦𝕝 𝕨𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕗𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕪 ℝ𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖 ℝ𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 ℙ𝕠𝕣𝕤𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕤. 𝕀𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕨𝕤 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡 𝕨𝕒𝕝𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕡𝕒𝕤𝕥 𝕝𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕣𝕤, 𝕒𝕔𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕒𝕟𝕚𝕖𝕕 𝕓𝕪 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕘𝕖𝕣 (𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕦𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕠𝕝𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕠𝕣), 𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕙𝕦𝕘𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕘𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕕. 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕒𝕝𝕤𝕠 𝕤𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕤 𝕕𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕚𝕟𝕘, 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕗𝕦𝕟 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕕𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 “𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕟” (𝕒 𝕕𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕞𝕒𝕕𝕖 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕔𝕠𝕕𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕖). 𝔸𝕟 𝕠𝕝𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕞𝕒𝕟 – 𝕠𝕓𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕝𝕪 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕖 – 𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕟, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕤 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕔𝕙𝕦𝕘 𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕒 𝕔𝕦𝕡 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗. 𝕊𝕙𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕞𝕒𝕕𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕜 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕒 𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕞𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕠𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕠𝕗 𝕒 𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕞𝕒 𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕔𝕠𝕠𝕜𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕚𝕤 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕪𝕖𝕕 𝕦𝕡𝕠𝕟: 𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕠𝕗 𝕒 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕪 𝕠𝕗 𝕔𝕠𝕠𝕜𝕚𝕖𝕤, 𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕞𝕒 𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕪 𝕠𝕗 𝕟𝕒𝕣𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕚𝕔 𝕕𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕤. 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕞𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕓𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕥𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕖, 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕚𝕥 𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕚𝕟 𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡, 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕠𝕝𝕕 𝕝𝕒𝕕𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕨𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕖 𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕣 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖 𝕔𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕡𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕤, 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕪𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕙 𝕤𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤. 𝔽𝕦𝕣𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖, 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕣𝕞𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕫𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕡 𝕝𝕚𝕗𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝔸𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕤, 𝕒𝕟𝕕, 𝕚𝕟 𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕝, 𝕥𝕠 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕥𝕪𝕡𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤. ℂ𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖, 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕤 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕒 𝕗𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕗𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡 𝕤𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕤 𝕒 𝕡𝕚𝕖 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕒𝕔𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕒 𝕥𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕠𝕣 𝕤𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕝 𝕒𝕕𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕠𝕣 𝕚𝕟 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕟𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕨𝕠 𝕘𝕠𝕣𝕘𝕖𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕨𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕘𝕝𝕖𝕖𝕗𝕦𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕟. 𝔸𝕘𝕒𝕚𝕟, 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕦𝕝𝕖𝕤 𝕚𝕤 𝕒𝕨𝕖𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕣𝕖𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕘𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕥 𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕤𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕞𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕒 𝕔𝕠𝕠𝕝 𝕜𝕚𝕕. 𝔹𝕦𝕥 𝕒𝕤 𝕨𝕖 𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕞𝕒𝕤 𝔽𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕜, 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕤 𝕒 𝕡𝕝𝕠𝕪 𝕞𝕒𝕕𝕖 𝕓𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕪. 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕞𝕒𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕪𝕠𝕦’𝕣𝕖 𝕓𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕝 𝕓𝕪 𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡, 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕚𝕟 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕪𝕠𝕦’𝕣𝕖 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕪𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕣𝕡𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕞𝕒𝕔𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕖. ℕ𝕠𝕨, 𝕒 𝕗𝕖𝕨 𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕒𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕚𝕟𝕗𝕝𝕦𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖. 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕨𝕠 𝕚𝕞𝕡𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕞𝕤 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕓𝕠𝕨-𝕔𝕠𝕝𝕠𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕝𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕝 𝕒𝕞𝕓𝕚𝕘𝕦𝕚𝕥𝕪. 𝔹𝕖𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡 𝕚𝕤 𝕦𝕟𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕝 𝕚𝕟 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕔, 𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕫𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕖𝕝𝕤𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕞𝕖𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖. ℍ𝕚𝕤 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕤 𝕕𝕠 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥: 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕨 𝕙𝕚𝕞 𝕥𝕠 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕨𝕚𝕤𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕟𝕠𝕥. 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕤 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕤 𝕒𝕤 𝕒𝕟 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕘𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 𝕊𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕ℂ𝕝𝕠𝕦𝕕 𝕣𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕠 𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕒𝕔𝕒𝕕𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕙𝕖’𝕤 𝕒 𝕟𝕖𝕨 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕗𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕙 𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕤𝕥. 𝕄𝕠𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕕, 𝕒𝕥 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝕘𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡 𝕤𝕖𝕖𝕞𝕤 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕓𝕖 𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝔸𝕗𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝔸𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕟. ℍ𝕖 𝕙𝕒𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕤. 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕡 𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕒𝕝𝕞𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕖𝕩𝕔𝕝𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕝𝕪 𝕓𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕜, 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕞𝕒𝕛𝕠𝕣 𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕤 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝔾𝕦𝕔𝕔𝕚 𝕄𝕒𝕟𝕖, 𝕄𝕚𝕘𝕠𝕤, 𝕃𝕚𝕝 𝕌𝕫𝕚 𝕍𝕖𝕣𝕥, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝔸𝕊𝔸ℙ 𝔽𝕖𝕣𝕘. 𝔹𝕦𝕥 𝕘𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕥 𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖 𝔾𝕒𝕣𝕔𝕚𝕒, 𝕙𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖𝕝𝕪 ℍ𝕚𝕤𝕡𝕒𝕟𝕚𝕔. ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕟, 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕞𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕚-𝕗𝕒𝕔𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕕. 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕀 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕘𝕠 𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕙𝕒𝕤 𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕕 𝕙𝕚𝕞 𝕥𝕠 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕔𝕥 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕒 𝕨𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕒𝕦𝕕𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖. 𝕃𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕧𝕚𝕖𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕞𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕗𝕪 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕓𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕡 𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕤, 𝕤𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕠𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡 𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕝 𝕘𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕡𝕤 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕠𝕝𝕕. (𝕀 𝕒𝕝𝕤𝕠 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕡𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕥 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕤𝕖 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕓𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕖𝕤; 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕕𝕠 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕣 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕡𝕠𝕚𝕘𝕟𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕙𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣.) 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕕𝕠𝕞 𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕓𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡 𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕤 𝕒 𝕨𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕖 𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕝 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕞𝕤. 𝕊𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡’𝕤 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕜 𝕚𝕤 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕝𝕒𝕣𝕘𝕖 𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕒 𝕠𝕗 𝕙𝕚𝕡-𝕙𝕠𝕡 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕣𝕒𝕡, 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕔 𝕙𝕒𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕗𝕗𝕖𝕔𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕫𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕣𝕖 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕒𝕟 𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕞 𝕠𝕗 𝕖𝕩𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝕒 𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕠𝕕𝕚𝕥𝕪. 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡’𝕤 𝕡𝕠𝕡𝕦𝕝𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕪, 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕔 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕣𝕖𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕣𝕖 𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕟𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕚𝕥𝕤 𝕞𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞 𝕒𝕦𝕕𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖. 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖, 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕖 𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕠𝕟 𝕚𝕤 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖𝕝𝕪 𝕥𝕠 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕞𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕙𝕚𝕡-𝕙𝕠𝕡. 𝕋𝕙𝕦𝕤, 𝕙𝕚𝕡-𝕙𝕠𝕡 𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕕𝕚𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕚𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕕. 𝕀𝕟 𝕖𝕩𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕒𝕞𝕖 𝕨𝕒𝕪, 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕕/𝕚𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕣-𝕔𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕒𝕝𝕤𝕠 𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕫𝕖𝕕 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕠𝕕𝕚𝕗𝕚𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡’𝕤 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕔. 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕟𝕖𝕘𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕝𝕪 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕖 𝕓𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕚𝕤 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕓𝕪 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕒𝕤 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕠𝕕𝕚𝕥𝕪. 𝔽𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕚𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕣-𝕔𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕠𝕓𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕓𝕪 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕡𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕥𝕪. 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕠𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕒𝕝𝕤𝕠 𝕘𝕣𝕠𝕤𝕤𝕝𝕪 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕣𝕖𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕕. 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕤𝕖 𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕤 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕘𝕖𝕕, 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝟙𝟚-𝕪𝕖𝕒𝕣-𝕠𝕝𝕕𝕤 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕤𝕟𝕠𝕣𝕥 𝕔𝕠𝕔𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕖. 𝕆𝕟𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕠𝕗 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡’𝕤 𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕒𝕔𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕒𝕝 𝕗𝕒𝕞𝕖 𝕠𝕟 𝕊𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕ℂ𝕝𝕠𝕦𝕕 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕝𝕪 𝕠𝕣𝕘𝕒𝕟𝕚𝕔. 𝕎𝕚𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕪, 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡’𝕤 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝕗𝕖𝕨 𝕣𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕖𝕤 𝕘𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕤. ℕ𝕠𝕨 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕓𝕖 𝕒 𝕤𝕚𝕘𝕟 𝕠𝕗 𝕡𝕠𝕠𝕣 𝕖𝕕𝕦𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕪; 𝕒 𝕤𝕚𝕘𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕔𝕖𝕣𝕟 𝕘𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕔, 𝕒𝕣𝕥, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖. 𝔹𝕦𝕥 𝕒𝕝𝕤𝕠, 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕞𝕖𝕒𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝔸𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕤 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕓𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕕𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕓𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕪 𝕥𝕠 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝕟𝕖𝕨 𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕞𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞. 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕪’𝕤 𝕡𝕒𝕤𝕥 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕜 𝕠𝕗 𝕡𝕦𝕞𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕣𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕒𝕝 𝕡𝕠𝕡 𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕞𝕒𝕪 𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕝 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕒 𝕞𝕖𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕚𝕤𝕞 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕓𝕪 𝕣𝕖𝕘𝕦𝕝𝕒𝕣 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕤𝕖𝕖𝕜 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥. 𝕀𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕒𝕤𝕖, 𝔸𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕞𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕔𝕖𝕣𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕚𝕟 𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤. 𝔾𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕤 𝕦𝕤 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕙𝕦𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕪, 𝕠𝕣 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕔𝕚𝕣𝕔𝕦𝕞𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖. 𝕀𝕥 𝕞𝕒𝕪 𝕡𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕥 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕤𝕠𝕔𝕚𝕖𝕥𝕪 – 𝕘𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕠𝕣 𝕓𝕒𝕕. 𝕀𝕥 𝕞𝕒𝕪 𝕒𝕝𝕤𝕠 𝕖𝕩𝕥𝕠𝕝 𝕒 𝕧𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕦𝕖, 𝕠𝕣 𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕤 𝕚𝕥 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕓𝕖 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕤𝕚𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕪 𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕗𝕦𝕝 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕦𝕟𝕚𝕢𝕦𝕖. 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡 𝕕𝕠𝕖𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕤𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤, 𝕤𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖, 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡 (𝕒𝕟𝕕 “𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕤” 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕙𝕚𝕞) 𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕤 𝕓𝕒𝕕 𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖. 𝔹𝕦𝕥 𝕒𝕝𝕒𝕤, 𝕃𝕚𝕝 ℙ𝕦𝕞𝕡 𝕕𝕠𝕖𝕤 𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕒 𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖. 𝕀𝕥 𝕚𝕤 𝕒 𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕚𝕗𝕗𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 – 𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕚𝕗𝕗𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕥𝕠, 𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕝, 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘. ℍ𝕚𝕤 𝕡𝕦𝕣𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕣𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕤 𝕖𝕩𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕞𝕖 𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕥𝕠𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕕𝕤 𝕚𝕞𝕡𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕤𝕠𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕝 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕡𝕠𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕝 𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕦𝕖𝕤, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕤 𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕥𝕠𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕕𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕪𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕞𝕒𝕪 𝕓𝕖 𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕡𝕗𝕦𝕝, 𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕖𝕠𝕦𝕤, 𝕠𝕣 𝕘𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕙𝕦𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕪. Source: https://www.reddit.com/r/copypasta/comments/8n6d2v/esketit_a_cultural_analysis_of_lil_pump/ Edited May 31, 2018 by colorfuljinsei 1 Elazmus reacted to this Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
suji 8317 Posted May 31, 2018 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓭. 𝓗𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓽𝓸 𝓰𝓻𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶. 𝓢𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰, 𝓷𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓶𝓮𝓷, 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓵𝓪𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶𝓼𝓮𝓵𝓿𝓮𝓼. 𝓞𝓷𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓯𝓪𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓽, 𝓪𝓼 𝓲𝓯 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓫𝓸𝓭𝔂 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝔀𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓼𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓭𝓲𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓾𝓽𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽. “𝓦𝓮𝓵𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮,” 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓼𝓪𝓲𝓭, “𝓘’𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓽𝓸𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓸𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽. 𝓘 𝓱𝓸𝓹𝓮 𝓘 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓰𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓿𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓰𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝓮.” 𝓗𝓮 𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓹 𝓸𝓯 𝓱𝓪𝓲𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓯𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓷 𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓪𝔂 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓮, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓸𝓾𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓲𝓯𝓯𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓻. 𝓗𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓬𝓴 𝓱𝓪𝓲𝓻 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓼𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓴𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝔀𝓸 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓵𝓪𝔂𝓮𝓻𝓼, 𝓮𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓫𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓸𝓻 𝔂𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀, 𝓪 𝓫𝓵𝓾𝓷𝓽 𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓵𝓮𝓯𝓽 𝓮𝔂𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓭 𝓾𝓹 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝔀𝓸 𝓵𝓸𝔀 𝓯𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓫𝓾𝓷𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓼. 𝓘𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓬𝓻𝓸𝔀𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝔂 𝓪 𝓫𝓻𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓽𝓲𝓪𝓻𝓪. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓸𝓸𝓶 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓷 𝓶𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓪 𝓼𝓪𝓾𝓷𝓪 𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓸𝓸𝓻 𝓼𝓮𝓬𝓵𝓾𝓭𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝓪𝓽𝓱 𝓻𝓸𝓸𝓶 𝓪𝓽 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓼𝓮𝓷. 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓸𝓭𝓮𝓷 𝓼𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓼, 𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓷 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓪 𝓽𝓸𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓼𝓮𝓪𝓽, 𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓷 𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓲𝓭𝓭𝓵𝓮. 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓻 𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓸𝓹𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓸𝓻 𝓪 𝔀𝓸𝓸𝓭𝓮𝓷 𝓰𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝔀𝓸 𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓹𝓼 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓽𝓮-𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓯𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓻. 𝓥𝓲𝓼𝓲𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓶𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓻𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓵𝔂 𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓹𝓼. 𝓕𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮, 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓴𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓼 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓿𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓵𝔂 𝓸𝓯𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓻. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓲𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓼𝓪𝓽 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷, 𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻 𝓷𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝓸𝓽𝓽𝓸𝓶𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪. 𝓗𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓽 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓰𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓵𝔂 𝓫𝔂 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓫𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓵𝓵-𝓫𝓸𝓽𝓽𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓭 𝓟𝓥𝓒 𝓼𝓴𝓲𝓻𝓽. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓲𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝓪 𝓯𝓮𝔀 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓵𝓪𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓼 𝓸𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓫𝓮𝓱𝓪𝓵𝓯. 𝓗𝓲𝓼 𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓷𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝓸𝓹, 𝓶𝓪𝓭𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓪𝓶𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓪𝓵 𝓪𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓴𝓲𝓻𝓽, 𝓸𝓷𝓵𝔂 𝔀𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓫𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓼𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓯𝓾𝔃𝔃𝔂 𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓶𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓸𝓹, 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓹𝓼 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓸𝓽𝓽𝓸𝓶, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓲𝓽, 𝓹𝓾𝓻𝓮𝓵𝔂 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓭𝓮𝓬𝓸𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓹𝓾𝓻𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓼. 𝓗𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓪 𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓰𝓱-𝓱𝓲𝓰𝓱 𝓫𝓸𝓸𝓽𝓼 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓱𝓲𝓰𝓱 𝓹𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓬𝓴 𝓱𝓮𝓮𝓵𝓼, 𝓫𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓭 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓬𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓽; 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪 𝓟𝓥𝓒 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓪𝓻 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓯𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓹𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓬 𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓼. 𝓞𝓷𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓮𝓷 𝓶𝓸𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓮𝓽𝓵𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓻𝓾𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓶𝓲𝓭-𝓼𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮. 𝓐 𝓯𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓮𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓮𝓭, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝔀𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓸𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓴𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓼 𝓫𝓮𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷. 𝓗𝓮 𝓹𝓾𝓽 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓾𝓽𝓽𝓸𝓬𝓴𝓼, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓮 𝓪𝓰𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓪𝓻𝓼𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓰𝓻𝓮𝔀 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓮𝓭𝓰𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓽. 𝓐𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓯𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓪𝓹𝓮𝓭, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓭𝓷’𝓽 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓭. 𝓗𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓻𝓶-𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔀𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓾𝓹 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓮𝓵𝓫𝓸𝔀, 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓯𝓾𝔃𝔃𝔂 𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓶𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓸𝓹, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓼 𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓼 𝓪𝓷 𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓶𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓰, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓫𝓪𝓻𝓮, 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓻𝓲𝓭𝓲𝓬𝓾𝓵𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓵𝔂 𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓿𝓮𝓭 𝓻𝓮𝓭-𝓿𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓷𝓪𝓲𝓵𝓼. 𝓗𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓾𝓼𝓬𝓵𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷’𝓼 𝓫𝓾𝓽𝓽𝓸𝓬𝓴𝓼 𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓼𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓻𝓮𝓵𝓪𝔁, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓮𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓹𝓾𝓼𝓱, 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓹𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓫𝓮𝓰𝓪𝓷 𝓽𝓸 𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓷 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱 𝓸𝓯 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓶 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓪 𝓶𝓲𝓬𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓬𝓸𝓹𝓮. 𝓐𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓯𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓶𝓪𝓭𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓹𝓼 𝓯𝓵𝓾𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓹𝓲𝓮𝓬𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝔀𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓮 𝓸𝓾𝓽. 𝓘𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂 𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓮, 𝓪 𝓼𝓸𝓯𝓽 𝓮𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓵, 𝓲𝓽’𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓪 𝓯𝓾𝓵𝓵 𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓭𝔂 𝓫𝓻𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓰𝓻𝓮𝓮𝓷, 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓿𝓮𝔂𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷’𝓼 𝓭𝓲𝓮𝓽𝓪𝓻𝔂 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓯𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓼, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓲𝓻𝓻𝓮𝓰𝓾𝓵𝓪𝓻. 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓻𝓮𝓭-𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓵𝓲𝓹𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓲𝓹𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓵 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓭𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓫𝔂𝓼𝓼. 𝓗𝓮 𝓴𝓮𝓹𝓽 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱 𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓷 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓪 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓮, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓰𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽, 𝓼𝓸 𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓬𝓱𝓮𝔀𝓮𝓭 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓪 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓫𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓰𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓷. 𝓘𝓽 𝓭𝓲𝓭𝓷’𝓽 𝓽𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮 𝓶𝓾𝓬𝓱, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓽𝓮𝔁𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓮, 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓰𝓸𝓸𝓭; 𝓼𝓶𝓸𝓸𝓽𝓱 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓸𝓯𝓽 𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓷𝓸 𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓫𝓵𝓮 𝓬𝓱𝓮𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓲𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓲𝓽 𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓵𝔂. “𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓶𝓮,” 𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓪𝓲𝓭 𝓼𝓱𝔂𝓵𝔂, “𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓽.” 𝓗𝓮 𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷𝓼 𝓰𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓸𝓽 – 𝓪 𝓽𝓸𝓽𝓪𝓵 𝓸𝓯 𝓯𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓮 – 𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓮𝓪𝓬𝓱 𝓪𝓷𝓾𝓼 𝔀𝓮𝓵𝓵. 𝓐𝓼 𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓲𝓻𝓬𝓵𝓮, 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝔂 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓮𝓷, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓾𝓻𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓲𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷, 𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱 𝔀𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓸𝓹 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷’𝓼 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓶 𝓶𝓾𝓼𝓽𝔂 𝓬𝓵𝓮𝓯𝓽. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓯𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓭, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪’𝓼 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓯𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓶𝔂𝓻𝓲𝓪𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝓼𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓭 𝓫𝓪𝓵𝓵-𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝓮𝔁𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓼, 𝓽𝓸𝓸 𝓶𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓲𝓷 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓴𝓮𝓮𝓹 𝓲𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱 – 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓯𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓻 𝓫𝓮𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓴𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓼, 𝓪 𝓯𝓮𝔀 𝓱𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓶𝓪𝓭𝓮 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓴𝓲𝓻𝓽. 𝓗𝓮 𝓬𝓱𝓮𝔀𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓪𝓼 𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓯𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓬𝓱 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓹𝓲𝓬𝓴 𝓾𝓹 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓹𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓪𝓰𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓱 𝓸𝓷𝓮𝓼. 𝓗𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝓲𝓷, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓬𝓱𝓮𝔀𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮. 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓮, 𝓱𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻, 𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓲𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓭𝓲𝓯𝓯𝓲𝓬𝓾𝓵𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓬𝓱𝓮𝔀, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓲𝓽 𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀. 𝓗𝓮 𝓰𝓸𝓽 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓲𝓽 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓲𝓽 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓴 𝓽𝓸 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓸𝓮𝓼𝓸𝓹𝓱𝓪𝓰𝓾𝓼, 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱. 𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓾𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓲𝓻𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓪𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓵, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀. “𝓓𝓸𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝔂𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓭𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓸𝓷 𝓸𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓻?” 𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓼𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓲𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂. “𝓢𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓸 𝓯𝓵𝓾𝓼𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱?” 𝓗𝓮 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓪𝔀 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓽 𝓶𝓪𝓷. 𝓗𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓭𝓲𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓾𝓽𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓯𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓬𝓲𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓲𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭. “𝓘 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓰𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓪 𝓫𝓲𝓽,” 𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓪𝓲𝓭 𝓪𝓼 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓿𝓮𝔂𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴. 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓾𝓹 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓮𝓭𝓰𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓬𝓴 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓼, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓶𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓭 𝓾𝓹 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓹𝓾𝓽 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪’𝓼 𝓭𝓲𝓻𝓽𝔂 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱. 𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷, 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓰𝓻𝓮𝔀 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓬𝓮𝓹𝓽𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓵𝔂 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷. 𝓢𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝓪 𝓭𝓻𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓵 𝓸𝓯 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓶 𝓾𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓮 𝓯𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓭, 𝓰𝓻𝓸𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓼𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓸 𝓪 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶, 𝔀𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓲𝓽 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓪 𝓰𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓲𝓮𝓻 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶 𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓼𝓬𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓯𝓻𝓪𝓰𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓬𝓵𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓸 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪’𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓪𝓽 𝓪𝓼 𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓭. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓾𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓪 𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂 𝓰𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓽𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮, 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓽, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓲𝓽 𝓱𝓮 𝓴𝓮𝓹𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱, 𝓪𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓼𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓭𝓻𝓮𝔀. “𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻,” 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓼𝓪𝓲𝓭, “𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓭𝓾𝓽𝔂.” 𝓗𝓮 𝓹𝓾𝓽 𝓪 𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓸𝓷 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪’𝓼 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓹𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓶. 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓼𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓭 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓵𝓮𝓯𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝓭𝓭𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓲𝓵𝔂. 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝔀𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓸𝓷 𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓻𝓼𝓮𝓼 𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓵 𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓿𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓭, 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓬𝓱 𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓾𝓷𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓼 𝓯𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓪𝓼 𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭. 𝓢𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓫𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝔂 𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂 𝓼𝓸𝓸𝓷, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓪𝓫𝓵𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓬𝓱𝓮𝔀 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓵𝔂, 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓬𝓱 𝓶𝓪𝓭𝓮 𝓲𝓽 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀. 𝓝𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼, 𝓽𝔀𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓸𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓭𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓶 𝓸𝓯 𝓾𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓮, 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓬𝓱 𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓫𝓵𝔂, 𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓾𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓪𝓼 𝓮𝔁𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓼𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓪𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓽 𝓶𝓪𝓷. 𝓢𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓯𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓻 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓲𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱, 𝓼𝓶𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓽 𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓰𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱, 𝓫𝓮𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓫𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓸𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓾𝓹 𝓽𝓸 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓬𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓲𝓽 𝓸𝓯𝓯, 𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓬𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻 𝓫𝓻𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓬𝓸𝓪𝓽. 𝓞𝓷𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓮𝓷 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓵; 𝓲𝓽 𝓼𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪’𝓼 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓰𝓸𝓽 𝓸𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓴𝓲𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮. 𝓘𝓽 𝓯𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓭 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓮𝓴 𝓪𝓼 𝔀𝓮𝓵𝓵. 𝓘𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼, 𝓱𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻, 𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓮𝓪𝓼𝔂 𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀, 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓬𝔂 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓬𝓴 𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓴𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓼𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓲𝓷𝔂 𝓫𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓲𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪 𝓿𝓪𝓰𝓾𝓮 𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓪 𝓯𝓵𝓪𝓿𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓹𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓮 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓪𝓽 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓾𝓷𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓽. 𝓐 𝓶𝓪𝓷, 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓪𝓼 𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓴𝓮𝓭, 𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓻 𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓭𝓮𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓹𝓼, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓾𝓹 𝓽𝓸 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪, 𝔀𝓱𝓸 𝓪𝓭𝓶𝓲𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓰𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪 𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓭𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓲𝓫𝓵𝓮 𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓵𝓲𝓽. 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓾𝓹 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓰𝓽𝓱, 𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓵 𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓲𝓷; 𝓪 𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓫𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓼𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓲𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱. 𝓗𝓮 𝓭𝓻𝓪𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓴𝓲𝓷 𝓯𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓼 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝓮𝓮𝓽𝓱 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓭𝓾𝓰 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓽, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓼𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝓻𝓮𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓮𝓼𝓮-𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓽𝓮𝔁𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓼𝓶𝓮𝓰𝓶𝓪. 𝓘𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓼𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓵𝔂 𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓾𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂 𝓽𝓪𝓼𝓽𝔂, 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓼𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓷 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓭 𝓪𝓽 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓲𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓲𝓷 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪’𝓼 𝓮𝔂𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓭 𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓻𝔂 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓴 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓭𝓸𝓷𝓮. “𝓘’𝓶 𝓰𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓴 𝓶𝔂 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓪𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓻𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓿𝓮 𝓶𝔂𝓼𝓮𝓵𝓯,” 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓼𝓪𝓲𝓭. “𝓘𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓸𝓴𝓪𝔂?” 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓷𝓸𝓭𝓭𝓮𝓭. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓪 𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓭𝔂 𝓰𝓻𝓲𝓹 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓫𝓸𝓽𝓱 𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪’𝓼 𝓳𝓪𝔀 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓹𝓾𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓭𝓮𝓮𝓹𝓮𝓻 𝓲𝓷, 𝓼𝓬𝓻𝓪𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓰𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓸𝓯 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓬𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓮𝓼𝓸𝓹𝓱𝓪𝓰𝓾𝓼. 𝓐𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓯𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓪𝓽, 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮, 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓬𝓱 𝓶𝓪𝓭𝓮 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓽𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓬𝓱 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓻𝔂 𝓹𝓾𝓵𝓼𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓪𝓵. 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓶 𝓯𝓵𝓸𝔀 𝓪𝓰𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓸𝓯 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓪𝓽, 𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵 𝓲𝓽 𝓼𝓹𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷, 𝓳𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓽-𝓯𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓬𝓱. 𝓗𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓪 𝓱𝓾𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓽𝓸𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓽, 𝓪 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓸𝓷-𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓻 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓵𝓭’𝓼 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓽, 𝓹𝓲𝓼𝓼, 𝓿𝓸𝓶𝓲𝓽, 𝓹𝓾𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓷; 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓷 𝓫𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓽-𝓼𝓵𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓪𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓪𝓼 𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓫𝓵𝓮, 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻 𝓫𝓸𝓭𝓲𝓵𝔂 𝓮𝓯𝓯𝓵𝓾𝓿𝓲𝓪 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓯𝓲𝓬𝓮𝓼 𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭, 𝓻𝓾𝓫𝓫𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻 𝓯𝓲𝓵𝓽𝓱 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓱𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓫𝓸𝓭𝔂, 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓿𝓮𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓮𝓵𝓼𝓮. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓭, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓹𝓾𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓸𝓾𝓽. 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓪 𝓭𝓮𝓮𝓹 𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱, 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝔀𝓲𝓬𝓮, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓮 𝓪𝓰𝓪𝓲𝓷. “𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓪𝓼𝓽𝔂 𝓭𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓴,” 𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓪𝓲𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓭. “𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓼𝓸 𝓶𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓶𝓮, 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓼 𝓫𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓭𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓲𝓸𝓾𝓼. 𝓘𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝓮, 𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮 𝓭𝓸! 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓫𝓾𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓻 𝓶𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓶𝓮, 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓹𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓶𝓮, 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓽 𝓾𝓹 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓸𝓽𝓽𝓸𝓶, 𝓪𝓷𝔂𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓲𝓼 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓮! 𝓦𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮?” 𝓗𝓮 𝓬𝓻𝓪𝔀𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓬𝓴 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓼𝓮 𝓾𝓹 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓵𝓮𝓰𝓼 𝓫𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓾𝓹 𝓪𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭; 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓴𝓲𝓻𝓽 𝓯𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓼 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓫𝓸𝓭𝔂, 𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓬𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓵𝔂 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷 𝓫𝓾𝓽𝓽𝓸𝓬𝓴𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓼𝓴𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓾𝓼. 𝓞𝓷𝓮 𝓪𝓻𝓶 𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓮𝓰𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓹𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓮, 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓼𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓵𝔂 𝓼𝓸 𝓪𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓵𝔂, 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓲𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝔂𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓹𝓲𝓮𝓻𝓬𝓮 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻 𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓰𝓽𝓱. “𝓝𝓸 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓵𝓾𝓫𝓮, 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓶𝔂 𝓪𝓻𝓼𝓮 𝓪𝓼 𝓪 𝓼𝓹𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽, 𝓸𝓴𝓪𝔂?” 𝓐𝓼 𝓲𝓯 𝓸𝓷 𝓬𝓾𝓮, 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓮𝓷 𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓮 𝓾𝓹 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓹𝓪𝓽 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓪 𝓫𝓲𝓰 𝓯𝓸𝓪𝓶𝔂 𝓵𝓾𝓶𝓹 𝓸𝓯 𝓼𝓹𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓲𝓽 𝓭𝓻𝓸𝓹 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪’𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓾𝓼. 𝓘𝓽 𝓯𝓮𝓵𝓽 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓼𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝓫𝓮𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓶𝓽𝓱 𝓪𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓪𝓰𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓻𝔂𝔀𝓪𝔂. 𝓗𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓲𝓽 𝓸𝓷, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓰𝓻𝓲𝓶𝓪𝓬𝓮𝓭 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓲𝓽 𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓹𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻’𝓼 𝓮𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓲𝓽𝔂, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓹𝓵𝓾𝓷𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓲𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓼 𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓮𝔃𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓼 𝔀𝓮𝓵𝓵. 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓭, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓼𝓵𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝓪𝓬𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓮. “𝓓𝓸𝓷’𝓽 𝓰𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓮,” 𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓪𝓲𝓭, “𝔀𝓮 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽. 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮’𝓼 𝓷𝓸 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓴. 𝓣𝓸𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓼 𝓭𝓸𝓷’𝓽 𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓴, 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻 𝓾𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓭𝓻𝓸𝓹. 𝓢𝓱𝓾𝓽 𝓾𝓹 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓮𝓪𝓽 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓽, 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓯𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔀𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓮.” 𝓐𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭, 𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓾𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓼𝓾𝓭𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓵𝔂, 𝓭𝓻𝓪𝓰𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓼𝓵𝓲𝓶𝔂 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓵 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪’𝓼 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓼. “𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓲𝓼 𝓪 𝓫𝓪𝓭 𝓽𝓸𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓽, 𝓲𝓽 𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓴𝓼. 𝓓𝓸𝓮𝓼 𝓲𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓪 𝓫𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓽 𝓯𝓾𝓷𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷, 𝓽𝓸𝓸? 𝓘𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓫𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻.” 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓬𝓻𝓪𝔀𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓾𝓹 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓪𝓽 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓸𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓫𝓾𝓽𝓽𝓸𝓬𝓴𝓼 (𝓼𝓶𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓽 𝓸𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓴𝓲𝓻𝓽 𝓪𝓼 𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓭) 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓫𝓫𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓪 𝓼𝓸𝓵𝓲𝓭 𝓰𝓻𝓲𝓹 𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓪𝓼𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓲𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱, 𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓲𝓽 𝓬𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓷 𝓸𝓯 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓭𝓮𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓾𝓼. 𝓦𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓭, 𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓪𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴, 𝓼𝓸 𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓲𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓶𝓼𝓮𝓵𝓯 𝓼𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓲𝓻 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓾𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓴. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓯𝓵𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝓾𝓹 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓴𝓲𝓻𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓬𝓴 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓲𝓷, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓵𝔂, 𝓪𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓪𝓵𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝔂 𝓫𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸𝓭𝓪𝔂, 𝓵𝓾𝓫𝓻𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓽. 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓶𝓸𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓼 𝓶𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓪𝓼 𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓲𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱, 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓬𝓱 𝓫𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓷 𝓭𝓲𝓻𝓽𝔂 𝓼𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓿𝓪 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓬𝓱 𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓭 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓼𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓭𝓻𝓪𝔀𝓷 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓹𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓮, 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓬𝓱 𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓾𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓿𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓸𝓫𝓳𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓪𝓶𝓮 𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓾𝓪𝓵 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓻𝓮𝓹𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓽 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓻, 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓻𝓮𝓹𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻, 𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓵 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓮𝓷 𝓫𝓮𝓰𝓪𝓷 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝓸𝓪𝓷 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓮𝓪𝓫𝓵𝔂, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓪 𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪’𝓼 𝓭𝓲𝓻𝓽𝔂 𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓮. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓮𝓷 𝓵𝓪𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓼𝓽 𝓮𝓪𝓬𝓱 𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓲𝓷 𝓼𝓾𝓫𝓭𝓾𝓮𝓭 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓸𝓾𝓽, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓼𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝓹𝓾𝓽 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓲𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓫𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓲𝓷 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓲𝓽 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓮𝓰𝓪𝓷, 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓶𝓼 𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓵𝓮𝓰𝓼 𝓾𝓹 𝓫𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭. 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓽𝓸𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓼 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪’𝓼 𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓱, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓱𝓪𝓭, 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓪 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓫𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻 𝓸𝓯 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓼, 𝓶𝓪𝓭𝓮 𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪’𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓾𝓼 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓷, 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓫𝓮𝓰𝓪𝓷 𝓽𝓸 𝓹𝓾𝓼𝓱. 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝓮𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓷, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷 𝓼𝓸, 𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓼𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓼𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽. 𝓕𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓪𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝓪 𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓮-𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓽, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓲𝓽 𝓫𝓻𝓸𝓴𝓮 𝓸𝓯𝓯; 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓯𝓪𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓸𝓷 𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓮𝓽, 𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓸𝓷 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪’𝓼 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓾𝓶 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓵𝓮𝓼. 𝓗𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓶𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓽 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓭 𝓶𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓸𝓵𝓲𝓭 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓹𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓮𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷, 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓽, 𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓭 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓲𝓽 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓽𝓸𝓸 𝓫𝓲𝓰 𝓽𝓸 𝓰𝓸 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮 (𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓲𝓽 𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓭 𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓯𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓯𝓮𝓵𝓽 𝓲𝓽’𝓼 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓶𝓽𝓱 𝓯𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝓶𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓪 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴). 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓽, 𝓱𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻, 𝓬𝓵𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓲𝓶 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓯𝓲𝓬𝓮. 𝓐𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓮𝓷 𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓹𝓾𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓽 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪’𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓾𝓼 𝓪𝓼 𝓶𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓪𝓼 𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓫𝓵𝓮, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓮𝓼𝓼, 𝓹𝓾𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓶𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓲𝓯 𝓲𝓽 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷. “𝓐𝓱, 𝔂𝓮𝓼!” 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓬𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓭 𝓸𝓾𝓽. “𝓒𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓶𝓮, 𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓯𝓯 𝓶𝓮 𝓯𝓾𝓵𝓵 𝓸𝓯 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓽!” “𝓢𝓱𝓾𝓽 𝓾𝓹, 𝓣𝓸𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓮,” 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝓼𝓪𝓲𝓭. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓪𝓽 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓵𝔂 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓬𝓵𝓲𝓶𝓪𝔁 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮 (𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓯𝓯 𝓪𝓵𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝔂 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷, 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵 𝓲𝓽, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓵𝓮𝓭𝓰𝓮 𝓷𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓶). 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓹𝓾𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓸𝓾𝓽, 𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓬𝓴 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓲𝓷. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝔀𝓱𝓸 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮, 𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓫𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓸𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓴𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪’𝓼 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓬𝓴 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓪𝔂, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓬𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓸𝓯𝓯 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓲𝓽. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓴𝓮𝓹𝓽 𝓫𝓾𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓲𝓶; 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓬𝓲𝓻𝓬𝓵𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓻𝓮𝓹𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓶𝓮𝓷 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓬𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓸𝓯𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝓪𝓵𝓼𝓸 𝓾𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓹𝓲𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓵𝔂 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓱𝓲𝓶. 𝓢𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓲𝓻, 𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓰𝓽𝓱 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓵𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓷 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓽𝓸𝓾𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓽 𝓫𝓮𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓫𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓯𝓵𝔂. “𝓞𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓼, 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮’𝓼 𝓪 𝓹𝓵𝓾𝓰 𝓸𝓷 𝓪 𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓯,” 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓼𝓪𝓲𝓭; “𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓲𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓯𝓯 𝓲𝓽 𝓾𝓹 𝓶𝔂 𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓮 𝓼𝓸 𝓘 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓴𝓮𝓮𝓹 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓰𝓲𝓯𝓽𝓼 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓶𝓮, 𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮, 𝓶𝔂 𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓼.” 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓽 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓬𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓼𝓽, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓫𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓮𝓭, 𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓸𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓹𝓾𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓲𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓼𝓱𝓵𝔂 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓲𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓪 𝓼𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓶𝓸𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓴𝓮𝓹𝓽 𝓸𝓷 𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓲𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓽 𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓬𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓸 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝓬𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓷. 𝓗𝓲𝓼 𝓫𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓵𝓼 𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓬𝓻𝓪𝓶𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓼𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓵𝔂, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓸𝓷𝓵𝔂 𝓶𝓪𝓭𝓮 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓻. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓮𝓷 𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓽𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓭𝓲𝓼𝓰𝓾𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓰𝓪𝔃𝓮𝓼, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓶 𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓻𝓪𝓷 𝓫𝓮𝓽𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓸𝓯 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓯𝓵𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝓾𝓹 𝓼𝓴𝓲𝓻𝓽. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓿𝓾𝓵𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓸𝓸𝓷, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓸𝓸 𝓸𝓯𝓯 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭. 𝓗𝓮 𝓰𝓸𝓽 𝓾𝓹 𝓸𝓯𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓼𝓬𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓽 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓫𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓭 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓼 𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽. “𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂 𝓶𝓾𝓬𝓱, 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓮 𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓽-𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼,” 𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓪𝓲𝓭. 2 𝓢𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝓼𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓭, 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓼𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓼𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓸 𝓮𝓪𝓬𝓱 𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓶𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝓱𝓾𝓻𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓭 𝓸𝓯𝓯. 𝓗𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓸𝓷 𝓸𝓯 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻. 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓬𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝓻𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 𝓲𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮, 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓸𝓯 𝓪𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓮. 𝓜𝓪𝔂𝓫𝓮 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓶𝓹𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻 𝓮𝔂𝓮𝓼, 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓵𝔂 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓫𝓮 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻 𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓪 𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓵𝓭. 𝓘𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼𝓷’𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼; 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓲𝓽 𝓭𝓲𝓭 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓪𝓼𝓽. 𝓗𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓫𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓯𝓲𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝔂𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓼 𝓸𝓵𝓭, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓯𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓾𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓸𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓷 𝓻𝓾𝓷 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮 (𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓷𝓸 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓮), 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓰𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓽𝓸 𝓪 𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓮 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓷𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓫𝔂. 𝓐𝓽 𝓮𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓶𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓴, 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓴𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔃𝓲𝓰𝔃𝓪𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻 𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓲𝓽 𝓻𝓪𝓭𝓲𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭, 𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓹𝓾𝓫𝓵𝓲𝓬 𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓸𝓶𝓼. 𝓗𝓮’𝓭 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓻𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓴 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓮𝓪𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓽 𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓭. 𝓐 𝓹𝓼𝔂𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓰𝓲𝓼𝓽 𝓶𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓼𝓪𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓪 𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓾𝓵𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓹𝓼𝔂𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓪𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓬 𝓭𝓲𝓼𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓫𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓸𝓷 𝓫𝔂 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓯𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓵𝔂 𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓮, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓪 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓸𝓬𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓱𝓲𝓶, 𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓼𝓮. 𝓕𝓸𝓻 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓸𝓷 𝓲𝓽 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓯𝓲𝓮𝓻𝓬𝓮; 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓽 𝓸𝓯𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓮𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓮𝓪𝓽 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓭𝓪𝔂, 𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓫𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓰𝓽𝓱 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓼𝓮𝓵𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝓪 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓭. 𝓐𝓵𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝔂 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓭𝓪𝔂𝓼, 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓫𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓬𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓼-𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓵𝔂, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓫𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝔀𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪 𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓮 𝓮𝓵𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓪 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓽 𝓼𝓴𝓲𝓻𝓽. 𝓗𝓲𝓼 𝓹𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓫𝓪𝓫𝓵𝔂 𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓲𝓫𝓵𝓮. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓪𝓼𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓪 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓭𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓮𝓷’𝓼 𝓫𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓸𝓶, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓼𝓱𝓵𝔂 𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪’𝓼 𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓪𝓲𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓹𝓾𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓸𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓼𝓮𝓪𝓽, 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓸𝓸𝓽𝓱. 𝓦𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓪𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓪𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪’𝓼 𝓵𝓾𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓭𝓮 𝓲𝓽 𝓬𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓮 𝓼𝓮𝔁, 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓾𝓭𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓵𝔂 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓰𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓵𝓮. 𝓗𝓮 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓰𝓸 𝓸𝓯 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓰𝓻𝓲𝓹 𝓸𝓷 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪’𝓼 𝓱𝓪𝓲𝓻, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓯𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓹𝓵𝓾𝓶𝓫 𝓸𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓼𝓮 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓸𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓼𝓮𝓪𝓽, 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓪𝓼𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓯 𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓪 𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓷𝓸𝓭𝓭𝓮𝓭, 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓾𝓹𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓻𝓽𝔂 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴, 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝓸𝓯 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓮 𝓾𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓪 𝓬𝓸𝓹𝓲𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓪𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓼𝓶𝓮𝓰𝓶𝓪 𝓬𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓴𝓲𝓷. 𝓦𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓲𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱, 𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓪 𝓵𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓮𝓼𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓷 𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓲𝓹𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭, 𝓱𝓲𝓭𝓭𝓮𝓷 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓵𝓭𝓼 𝓪𝓼 𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓴𝓲𝓷 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓮. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓪𝓼𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓯 𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓹𝓾𝓽 𝓲𝓽 𝓲𝓷. 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓾𝓹, 𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓸𝓯𝓯 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓹𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓼, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓪𝓽 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓸𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓼𝓮𝓪𝓽 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓵. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓪𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓫𝓮𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓾𝓷𝓵𝓾𝓫𝓻𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓪𝓰𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓽 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪’𝓼 𝓼𝓹𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻. 𝓘𝓽 𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓪 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓭𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓫𝓮𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓪 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓪𝓫𝓵𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓭, 𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓫𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓼𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶 𝓸𝓯 𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓷, 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓪𝓵𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓰𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽 𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓰𝓸 𝓸𝓷. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓵𝔂 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓾𝓷𝓵𝓲𝓽 𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓸𝓶 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓵, 𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓵 𝓱𝓮 𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓮𝓳𝓪𝓬𝓾𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓯𝓾𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪’𝓼 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓼. 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼 𝓸𝓯𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓵𝔂 𝓼𝓸𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓬𝓴. 𝓗𝓲𝓼 𝓵𝓲𝓹𝓼 𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓭. 𝓗𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓭𝓷’𝓽 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮, 𝓮𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻; 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝓮𝓽𝓪𝓵 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓲𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱. 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓼𝓪𝓲𝓭 𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓰𝓸 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓭𝓸 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻. 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪’𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓽𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓵𝔂. “𝓟𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮!” 𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓼𝓪𝓲𝓭, “𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓶𝓮 𝓪𝓼 𝓪 𝓽𝓸𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓽! 𝓖𝓸 𝓲𝓷 𝓶𝔂 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱, 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮!” 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓼𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓵𝓪𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓪𝓲𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓪 𝓷𝓪𝓼𝓽𝔂 𝓯𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓻 𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓭𝓷’𝓽 𝓶𝓮𝓽 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓶𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓪 𝔂𝓮𝓪𝓻. 𝓗𝓮 𝓹𝓾𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓼, 𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓫𝓾𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓮 𝓫𝓮𝓽𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓶 𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓪𝓽𝔂 𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓮𝓴𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓽 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓯𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱. 𝓗𝓮 𝓰𝓸𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓭 𝓪𝓰𝓪𝓲𝓷, 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓻𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓶𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽, 𝓪𝓼 𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓸𝓽 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓻 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓽 𝓶𝓪𝓷, 𝔀𝓱𝓸 𝓽𝓾𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓱 𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓪𝓻. 𝓗𝓮 𝓼𝓪𝓽 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓯𝓮𝓵𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓵𝓾𝓰 𝓹𝓾𝓼𝓱 𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓼 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮. 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓹𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓬 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓮𝓪𝓽, 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓪𝓫𝓵𝔂 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓸𝓷, 𝓼𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓶𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓭𝓮 𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓵𝔂. 𝓘𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽, 𝓸𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝔀𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓪 𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓴 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓾𝓼𝓾𝓪𝓵 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓷𝓬𝔂. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓽 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓸, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓾𝓷𝔃𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓫𝓮𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓮𝓰𝓪𝓷 𝓭𝓻𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰. 𝓗𝓲𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰. “𝓓𝓸 𝓲𝓽 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓭𝓸 𝓲𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓐𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓯𝓲𝓵𝓶𝓼,” 𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓪𝓲𝓭, “𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓴 𝓶𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓘 𝓭𝓻𝓲𝓿𝓮. 𝓘’𝓿𝓮 𝓪𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓻𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽.” 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓫𝓮 𝓪 𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓭𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓹𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓭𝓲𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓸𝓫𝓳𝓮𝓬𝓽, 𝓼𝓸 𝓫𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓬𝓻𝓸𝓽𝓬𝓱 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓬𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓵𝓲𝓹𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓬𝓴. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓻 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓶𝓸𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰, 𝓭𝓻𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓬𝓪𝓻 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝓮𝓽𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓻𝓪𝓶𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓵-𝓽𝓸-𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓾𝓲𝓵𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓮𝔂. “𝓘 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓪 𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝔀𝓮 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓱𝓸𝓶𝓮,” 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓽𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪’𝓼 𝓫𝓸𝓫𝓫𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓲𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓵𝓪𝓹, “𝓘 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾’𝓵𝓵 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓲𝓽 𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂 𝓶𝓾𝓬𝓱.” 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓼𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓼𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓭. 𝓗𝓮 𝓯𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓪𝓼𝓵𝓮𝓮𝓹 𝓼𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝓪𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓲𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓱𝓪𝓲𝓻 𝓫𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓫𝓻𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓽𝓲𝓪𝓻𝓪 𝓰𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓵𝔂. 3 𝓘𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓷 𝓫𝓮𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮, 𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝔂 𝓱𝓲𝓰𝓱 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓻𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓼 𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓽𝓮, 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓽 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓴𝓮𝓹𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓰𝓰𝓪𝓻𝓭-𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓓𝓸𝓫𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓼. 𝓐 𝓰𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓮𝓽, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓵𝔂 𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓭 𝓾𝓹 𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓪 𝓼𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂 𝓭𝓸𝓰-𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮. 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓻𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝓻𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓪𝓬𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓵𝔂 𝓪𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓽 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓰𝓾𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻 𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓱. 𝓛𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓼 𝓯𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓭𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓮𝓷 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓰𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓷 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓸𝓸𝓯-𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓵𝓪𝓶𝓹𝓼 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓪, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓼𝓼 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓭𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓭 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓭𝓲𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼, 𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓱 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝓾𝓭 𝓫𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓰𝓼 𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓻𝓽𝔂, 𝓶𝓾𝓭 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻 𝓹𝓪𝔀𝓼, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓼𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓮𝓴 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻 𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓼. 𝓗𝓲𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓭. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓪𝓻 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓪𝓶𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓸𝓭𝓮𝓷 𝓹𝓸𝓵𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓰𝓼 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻𝓼 𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸. 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝔀𝓪𝓲𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓹𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓵𝔂 𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝓮𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓭𝓸 𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽, 𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓪 𝓰𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓪. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝔀𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓸 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪’𝓼 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓻, 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓲𝓽, 𝓼𝓵𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓫𝓾𝓽𝓽𝓸𝓬𝓴𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓵𝓾𝓰. 𝓣𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓬𝓮𝓯𝓾𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓭𝓻𝓮𝔀 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓪 𝓹𝓵𝓸𝓹𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭. 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓭 𝓪 𝓯𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓸𝓯 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓽 𝓶𝓲𝔁𝓮𝓭 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓹𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓼𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓵𝓶𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝔀𝓸 𝔂𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓼, 𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓵 𝓲𝓽 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓹𝓽𝓵𝔂 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓪 𝓯𝓪𝓻𝓽. 𝓞𝓷𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓰𝓼 𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓪𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓱𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓯𝓮𝓵𝓽 𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓻𝓪𝓼𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓮 𝓪𝓰𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓽 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓫𝓾𝓽𝓽𝓸𝓬𝓴𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓾𝓼. “𝓘 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓭 𝓾𝓹 𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓼 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓪 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓸𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓼𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷”, 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓽 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓼𝓪𝓲𝓭 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓪 𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓸𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓶𝓼 𝓬𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓼𝓽. “𝓘’𝓶 𝓱𝓸𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓸𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓻 𝓪 𝓰𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝔀. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓰𝓼 – 𝓘 𝓭𝓸𝓷’𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓘 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓘 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝓮𝓮 – 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓫𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓵 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱. 𝓨𝓸𝓾’𝓻𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽.” 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓾𝓹 𝓪𝓽 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝓭𝓭𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓷 𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓹𝓸𝓷𝓼𝓮. “𝓖𝓸𝓸𝓭,” 𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓹𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓭. “𝓘’𝓶 𝓰𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓸 𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓻𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽. 𝓖𝓮𝓽 𝓫𝓾𝓼𝔂, 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓼𝓵𝓮𝓮𝓹, 𝓽𝓸𝓸. 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓰𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮.” 𝓗𝓮 𝓹𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓽 𝓲𝓽, 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓾𝓹 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝔀𝓸 𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓹𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓵 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓪, 𝓭𝓻𝓮𝔀 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓼 𝓭𝓸𝓸𝓻 𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓭𝓲𝓼𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓻. 𝓐 𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓸𝓷 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝓯𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓵𝓪𝓶𝓹𝓼 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓰𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓷 𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓵𝓼𝓸 𝓵𝓲𝓽; 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓪𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽. 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓼𝓮𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓼, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓴𝓸𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮, 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓼, 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓰 𝓪𝓽 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓵𝔂 𝔀𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓾𝓹 𝓽𝓸 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓷𝓲𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓶. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓻𝓲𝓫𝓵𝓮, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝔀𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓽 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓯𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓭𝓸𝓰𝓼. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓰’𝓼 𝓽𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓮 𝓱𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓸𝓾𝓽, 𝓶𝓸𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓼𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓵𝔂 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓸𝓾𝓽, 𝓼𝓲𝓵𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓪𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓶𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓭 𝓬𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓻, 𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓬𝓴 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓽𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓮 𝓸𝓾𝓽. 𝓗𝓲𝓼 𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓽𝓸𝓾𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓰’𝓼 𝓽𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓮, 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓪𝓻𝓼𝓮 𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓰’𝓼 𝓼𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓿𝓪. 𝓗𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓽𝓸𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓼 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓴𝓲𝓻𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓯𝓵𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓽 𝓾𝓹 𝓸𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴. 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓾𝓹 𝓼𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓵𝔂 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓰’𝓼 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓫𝓮𝓵𝓵𝔂. 𝓑𝓮𝓽𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓵𝓮𝓰𝓼, 𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓼𝓮𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓰 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓽; 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓲𝓫𝓵𝓮 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓪𝓼 𝓪 𝓼𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓫𝓾𝓵𝓰𝓮, 𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝔂 𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓯𝓾𝓻𝓻𝔂 𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱. 𝓗𝓮 𝓹𝓾𝓽 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓸𝓯𝓽 𝓼𝓴𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓽 𝓼𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓵𝔂, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓫𝓮𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓰𝓻𝓮𝔀 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓫𝓮𝓰𝓪𝓷 𝓽𝓸 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓬𝓱 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓵𝓭. 𝓐 𝓯𝓾𝓵𝓵 𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓹𝓾𝓻𝓹𝓵𝓮 𝓿𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓼 𝓲𝓽 𝓰𝓻𝓮𝔀 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓼𝓲𝔃𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓲𝓽’𝓼 𝓭𝓻𝓸𝓸𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓫𝓮𝓰𝓪𝓷 𝓽𝓸 𝓻𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮 𝓭𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓼𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓼𝓮𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓵 𝓯𝓵𝓾𝓲𝓭. 𝓗𝓮 𝓹𝓾𝓽 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓲𝓷 𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓰 – 𝓲𝓽 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓵 – 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓶 𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓴𝔂 𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱. 𝓦𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓸𝓷 𝓲𝓽, 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓰 𝓫𝓮𝓰𝓪𝓷 𝓽𝓸 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓼𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓾𝓰𝓰𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓷, 𝓮𝓪𝓰𝓮𝓻 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓸𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓼𝓸𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓱𝓾𝓶𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓶𝓸𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓶𝓮𝓪𝓷𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓼𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓭 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓲𝓽 𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱. 𝓘𝓽 𝓽𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝓪𝓭𝓮 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓰 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓭 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝔂, 𝓼𝓸 𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓲𝓰 𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓪𝓰𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱. 𝓐𝓽 𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓫𝓪𝓼𝓮, 𝓪𝓰𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓵𝓮𝓼 𝓫𝓮𝔂𝓸𝓷𝓭, 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓮 𝓫𝓾𝓵𝓰𝓮 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓪𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓫𝓮𝓰𝓪𝓷 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓪𝓽. 𝓗𝓮 𝓴𝓷𝓮𝔀 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓻𝓲𝓵𝓵: 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝔀𝓪𝓼𝓷’𝓽 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓭𝓸𝓰𝓼. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓭𝓸𝓰𝓼 𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝔀, 𝓼𝓸 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓮𝓯𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓬𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓫𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓴𝓮 𝓲𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓫𝓮𝓰𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓴. 𝓜𝓮𝓪𝓷𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓮, 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓭𝓸𝓰 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓽𝓻𝔂𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 𝓱𝓲𝓶. 𝓘𝓽 𝓱𝓾𝓶𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓲𝓻 𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓵 𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓹𝓪𝔀𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓽 𝓬𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓻, 𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓵 𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓮𝓵𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓪𝓰𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓽 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓭𝓲𝓻𝓽𝔂 𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓮. 𝓐𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓲𝓰 𝓹𝓵𝓾𝓰, 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓭 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓰 𝓽𝓸 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓲𝓷, 𝓱𝓾𝓶𝓹 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓪 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓪𝓼𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝓽. 𝓦𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓾𝓶, 𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓪 𝓿𝓪𝓰𝓾𝓮 𝓼𝓮𝓷𝓼𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓫𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓯𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓶𝓽𝓱. 𝓐𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓱𝓮 𝓴𝓮𝓹𝓽 𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓭𝓸𝓰. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓭𝓸𝓰 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝓹𝓵𝓸𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝓸𝓾𝓽 (𝓬𝓪𝓾𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓽 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮), 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓲𝓽 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓪𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝓼𝓸 𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓵𝔂. 𝓗𝓮 𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽, 𝓯𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓼𝓮𝔁, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓫𝓮𝓰𝓪𝓷 𝓽𝓸 𝓬𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮 𝓸𝓯𝓯 𝓲𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓵𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓼𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓾𝓮𝓭, 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓮𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓭𝓸𝓰 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓪𝓶𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓸𝓷. 𝓘𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓻𝓰𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓬, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓫𝓾𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓪 𝓶𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓵 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝔂 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓪 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓵 𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓵𝓸𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷. 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪’𝓼 𝓫𝓸𝓽𝓽𝓸𝓶 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓪𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓪𝔂’𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓪𝓵 𝓮𝔁𝓮𝓻𝓬𝓲𝓼𝓮𝓼, 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓬𝓱 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓸𝓷 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓫𝓮𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓼𝓵𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝔂𝔀𝓪𝔂. 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓮𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓭𝓸𝓰’𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴, 𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓵 𝓪𝓷 𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓪 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓾𝓬𝓴 𝓱𝓲𝓶. 𝓗𝓮 𝓰𝓸𝓽 𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓻𝓭 𝓭𝓸𝓰’𝓼 𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓱, 𝓭𝓻𝓪𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓽 𝓬𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓮, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓽’𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓵 𝓲𝓽 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓭. 𝓗𝓮 𝓹𝓾𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓴𝓲𝓻𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓴𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓼; 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓯𝓾𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓪𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓻𝓭 𝓭𝓸𝓰 𝓲𝓷 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓲𝓶, 𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓮𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓸𝓷𝓮; 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮, 𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓬𝓴 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓻𝓼𝓮 𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝓮𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓻𝓸𝓸𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓵, 𝓯𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓸𝓯𝓽 𝓹𝓵𝓲𝓪𝓫𝓵𝓮 𝓼𝓹𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻. 𝓗𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓾𝓹 𝓸𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓴𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓼 (𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓪𝔀𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓻𝓭 𝓭𝓸𝓰 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓶𝓮𝓪𝓷𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓮; 𝓲𝓽 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓾𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓾𝓶𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓰) 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓪𝓰𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓾𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓮𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓭. 𝓘𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓭, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓭𝓲𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓲𝓼𝓽, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓱 𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓫𝓾𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓭 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷 𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓽𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓬𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓼. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓰 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓲𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓾𝓼 𝓼𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝓫𝓮𝓰𝓪𝓷 𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝓹𝓻𝓪𝔂 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓫𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓵𝓼 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝔀𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻𝔂 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓭, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓻𝓭 𝓭𝓸𝓰, 𝓫𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓫𝓲𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓻, 𝓭𝓲𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓪𝓷 𝓮𝓪𝓼𝔂 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝓾𝓷𝓽𝔂𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓽𝓸𝓸. 𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓼𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓵𝔂, 𝓲𝓽 𝓻𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓪𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓯𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓮𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓵 𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷 𝓲𝓽; 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓾𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓸𝓾𝓽. 𝓐𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓭𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼, 𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓻𝓭 𝓭𝓸𝓰 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓮 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓮. 𝓗𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷 𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓴 𝓲𝓽’𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓬𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓷, 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓱𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓮𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓭𝓸𝓰 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓸𝓷 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪 𝓫𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓵 𝓶𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽. 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓵𝔂 𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓼𝓹𝓸𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓼𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓷-𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓮𝓭 (𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓸𝔀𝓷) 𝓷𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓸𝔀 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓽 𝓫𝓮𝓰𝓪𝓷 𝓽𝓸 𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓰𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓲𝓻. 𝓗𝓮 𝓹𝓾𝓽 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱 𝓾𝓹 𝓪𝓰𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓹𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓵𝓲𝓹𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓭, 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓾𝓼𝓱𝔂 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓽 𝓼𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝓯𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱. 𝓘𝓽 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓭 𝓪 𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓵𝓮 𝓭𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓸𝓷 𝓸𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓻 𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽, 𝓼𝓸 𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓱𝓮𝔀𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓵𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓽; 𝓭𝓸𝓰 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓱𝓾𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓼; 𝓲𝓽 𝓭𝓲𝓭 𝓲𝓷 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓽 𝓽𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮 𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓫𝓪𝓭 (𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓭). 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓻𝓭 𝓭𝓸𝓰; 𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓼𝓸𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓭𝓻𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓬𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓷 𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓵 𝓲𝓽 𝓿𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱. 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓹𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓽 𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓮𝔁𝓱𝓪𝓾𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓭𝓪𝔂, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓬𝓻𝓪𝔀𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓰𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮. 𝓞𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓮𝓷 𝔀𝓸𝓸𝓭𝓮𝓷 𝓫𝓸𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓼 𝓱𝓮 𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓵𝔂 𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷-𝓱𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓹𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓭𝓮𝓮𝓹𝓮𝓻 𝓼𝓵𝓾𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻. 4 𝓦𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝔀𝓸𝓴𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓱𝓾𝓻𝓻𝔂𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓸𝓯𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓮 𝓪𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓼𝓾𝓷, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓼𝓾𝓭𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓵𝔂 𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓭. 𝓗𝓮 𝓰𝓸𝓽 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓰𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮, 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓾𝓹 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓹𝓾𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓴𝓲𝓻𝓽 𝓾𝓹 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓪𝓭 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝔃𝓮𝓷 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓪𝓬𝓴. 𝓗𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓬𝓱 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓱𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓿𝓸𝓶𝓲𝓽𝓮𝓭; 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓬𝓴 𝓫𝓻𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓼𝓵𝓲𝓶𝔂 𝔀𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮 𝓰𝓾𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓻𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓼𝓼. 𝓘𝓽 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓬𝓱 𝓭𝓲𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓪𝓰𝓻𝓮𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓰 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓽; 𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓵, 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓭𝓾𝓽𝔂 𝓪𝓼 𝓪 𝓽𝓸𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓼𝓸𝓲𝓵 𝓹𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓮𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓻; 𝓼𝓸 𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓸𝓽 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓴𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓫𝓮𝓰𝓪𝓷 𝓵𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓲𝓽 𝓾𝓹. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓰𝓼, 𝓱𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻, 𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓵𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓭 𝓯𝓪𝓻 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓫𝓵𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓴 𝓲𝓽 𝓾𝓹 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓷 𝓱𝓮; 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓼𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓵𝔂, 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓰𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓲𝓽. 𝓐 𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓶𝓮, 𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓽; 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓪𝓰𝓪𝓲𝓷 – 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓪𝓵𝓶𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝓪𝓰𝓪𝓲𝓷, 𝓷𝓸𝔀. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓭𝓸𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓼𝔀𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓽 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓰𝓮𝓭. 𝓗𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝔀𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓻𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪 𝓰𝓻𝓮𝔂 𝓽𝓲𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓫𝓵𝓾𝓮 𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓼; 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓴. 𝓦𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓪 𝓫𝓲𝓰 𝓼𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓪𝓬𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓼 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓮 𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓾𝓹 𝓽𝓸 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓪𝓷𝓭 – 𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓪𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓹𝓽𝓵𝔂 – 𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓼. 𝓢𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓸𝓯𝓽, 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝔀𝓪𝓼𝓷’𝓽 𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓲𝓯 𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓭. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓻 𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓮 𝓼𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝓪𝓼 𝓪 𝓼𝓹𝓾𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓹𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓰𝓾𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓱 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓮. “𝓘 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓬𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓸𝓯𝓯 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓫𝓮𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓘 𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝔂𝓸𝓾’𝓻𝓮 𝓪 𝓫𝓲𝓽 𝓭𝓲𝓻𝓽𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮’𝓼 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓽 𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱,” 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓼𝓪𝓲𝓭 𝓪𝓼 𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓾𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓹𝓲𝓼𝓼, 𝔀𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓴 𝓱𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻, 𝔀𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻. 𝓘𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓾𝓶𝓷𝓪𝓵 𝔀𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻, 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓯𝓮𝓵𝓽 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝔃𝓮𝓷 𝓪𝓼 𝓼𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝓪𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼𝓱 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓭. 𝓑𝓾𝓽, 𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓽, 𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓼𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝓫𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓪𝓰𝓪𝓲𝓷, 𝓭𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓭. “𝓓𝓲𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓯𝓾𝓷? 𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓘 𝓼𝓪𝔀 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂 𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰.” 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓷𝓸𝓭𝓭𝓮𝓭. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓽 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓹𝓵𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓾𝓹 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓵𝓾𝓰 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭. 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓴𝓲𝓻𝓽 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝓪𝓼 𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓪𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓵𝓮𝓰𝓼, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓵𝓾𝓰 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮. 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝔀𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓸𝓭𝓮𝓷 𝓹𝓸𝓵𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪’𝓼 𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓱, 𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓲𝓽, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝔀𝓸 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓸 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓻𝓪𝓶𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝓭𝓻𝓲𝓿𝓮𝔀𝓪𝔂. 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓼𝓪𝓽 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓬. “𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓻𝓮𝓮𝓴 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓪 𝓹𝓾𝓫𝓵𝓲𝓬 𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓸𝓶,” 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓽 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓼𝓪𝓲𝓭 𝓪𝓼 𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓵𝓸𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓫𝓮𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓮𝓵. “𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓽’𝓼 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓘 𝓪𝓶,” 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓻𝓮𝓹𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓭. “𝓦𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓘 𝔀𝓪𝓼𝓱, 𝓘 𝓸𝓷𝓵𝔂 𝔀𝓪𝓼𝓱 𝓶𝔂 𝓱𝓪𝓲𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓮. 𝓘 𝓭𝓸𝓷’𝓽 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓸𝓯𝓯 𝓶𝔂 𝓬𝓵𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓼; 𝓘 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝔀𝓮𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓪𝓼𝓱 𝓪𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝓼𝓾𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓲𝓬𝓲𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻’𝓼 𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓬𝓴 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝓸𝓻 𝓶𝓮. 𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓯𝓲𝓵𝓽𝓱 𝓸𝓷 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓸𝓭𝔂.” 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓴𝓮𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓮𝓷𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓮 𝓹𝓾𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓮. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓈 𝒶𝓇𝓇𝒾𝓋𝑒𝒹. 𝐻𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝑜𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂. 𝒮𝓂𝒾𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝓃𝒶𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝑒𝓃, 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓁𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓂𝑜𝓃𝑔𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂𝓈𝑒𝓁𝓋𝑒𝓈. 𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓇𝓉, 𝒶𝓈 𝒾𝒻 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝑜𝒹𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝑒𝓃𝓈𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝒹𝒾𝓂𝒾𝓃𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉. “𝒲𝑒𝓁𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒,” 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹, “𝐼’𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓉𝑜𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝑜𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉. 𝐼 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝓈𝑒𝓇𝓋𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝑒.” 𝐻𝑒 𝒷𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝓅 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒻𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓃 𝒶𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓎 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝑒, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝑜𝓊𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝒾𝒻𝒻𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝑜𝓇𝒹𝑒𝓇. 𝐻𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓈𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝓌𝑜 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝓁𝒶𝓎𝑒𝓇𝓈, 𝑒𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌, 𝒶 𝒷𝓁𝓊𝓃𝓉 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝑒𝒻𝓉 𝑒𝓎𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝓉𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝓊𝓅 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝓌𝑜 𝓁𝑜𝓌 𝒻𝓁𝑜𝓌𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒷𝓊𝓃𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓈. 𝐼𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝓎 𝒶 𝒷𝓇𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝓉𝒾𝒶𝓇𝒶. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝑜𝑜𝓂 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒶 𝓈𝒶𝓊𝓃𝒶 𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒾𝓃𝒹𝑜𝑜𝓇 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝓁𝓊𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝒶𝓉𝒽 𝓇𝑜𝑜𝓂 𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝓈𝑒𝓃. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝑜𝒹𝑒𝓃 𝓈𝑒𝒶𝓉𝓈, 𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓃 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒶 𝓉𝑜𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝓈𝑒𝒶𝓉, 𝒶𝓇𝓇𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓃 𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒾𝒹𝒹𝓁𝑒. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝓇 𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝓅𝓅𝑜𝓈𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝑜𝓇 𝒶 𝓌𝑜𝑜𝒹𝑒𝓃 𝑔𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝓌𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓅𝓈 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓉𝑒-𝓉𝒾𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓇. 𝒱𝒾𝓈𝒾𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓈 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝓇𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝒸𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓅𝓈. 𝐹𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓀𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓈 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝑒𝓁𝑒𝓋𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓁𝓎 𝑜𝒻𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓇. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓋𝒾𝓈𝒾𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓈 𝓈𝒶𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃, 𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑒𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓃𝒶𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝑜𝓉𝓉𝑜𝓂𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶. 𝐻𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓁𝓎 𝒷𝓎 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝓁𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝓁𝓁-𝒷𝑜𝓉𝓉𝑜𝓂𝑒𝒹 𝒫𝒱𝒞 𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓇𝓉. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓋𝒾𝓈𝒾𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒾𝒸𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝒶 𝒻𝑒𝓌 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓁𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓈 𝑜𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝒽𝒶𝓁𝒻. 𝐻𝒾𝓈 𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓃𝒾𝓅𝓅𝓁𝑒𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝑜𝓅, 𝓂𝒶𝒹𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓇𝒾𝒶𝓁 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓇𝓉, 𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝓌𝒽𝑜𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒷𝓁𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝓈𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝓊𝓏𝓏𝓎 𝓉𝓇𝒾𝓂𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝓅, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝓁𝓁𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓅𝓈 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑜𝓉𝓉𝑜𝓂, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒾𝓉, 𝓅𝓊𝓇𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒹𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓅𝓊𝓇𝓅𝑜𝓈𝑒𝓈. 𝐻𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒶 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝑔𝒽-𝒽𝒾𝑔𝒽 𝒷𝑜𝑜𝓉𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒽𝒾𝑔𝒽 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓉𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓂𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝒽𝑒𝑒𝓁𝓈, 𝒷𝓁𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉; 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶 𝒫𝒱𝒞 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝓁𝒶𝓇 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒻𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒸 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝓁𝓁𝓈. 𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑒𝓃 𝓂𝑜𝒶𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝑒𝓉𝓁𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝒸𝓊𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓇𝓊𝓅𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝒾𝒹-𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒. 𝒜 𝒻𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝑒𝒸𝒽𝑜𝑒𝒹, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝑜𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓀𝓃𝑒𝑒𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝒽𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃. 𝐻𝑒 𝓅𝓊𝓉 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝓊𝓉𝓉𝑜𝒸𝓀𝓈, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑒𝓉𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝑜𝓃𝑔𝓊𝑒 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝒶𝓇𝓈𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝓌 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝒹𝑔𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓉. 𝒜𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝑒𝓈𝒸𝒶𝓅𝑒𝒹, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝒹𝓃’𝓉 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒹. 𝐻𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝓂-𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓂𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓊𝓅 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝑒𝓁𝒷𝑜𝓌, 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝓊𝓏𝓏𝓎 𝓉𝓇𝒾𝓂𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝓅, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝓁𝓁𝓈 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓈 𝒶𝓃 𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝓇𝒾𝓂𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒷𝒶𝓇𝑒, 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓇𝒾𝒹𝒾𝒸𝓊𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓈𝓁𝓎 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒸𝓊𝓇𝓋𝑒𝒹 𝓇𝑒𝒹-𝓋𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝓃𝒶𝒾𝓁𝓈. 𝐻𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝒸𝓁𝑒𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃’𝓈 𝒷𝓊𝓉𝓉𝑜𝒸𝓀𝓈 𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓈𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓇𝑒𝓁𝒶𝓍, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝓊𝓈𝒽, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓅𝒽𝒾𝓃𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝑒𝑔𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓃 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽 𝑜𝒻 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝑜𝓉𝒽𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓂 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝓃𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝒶 𝓂𝒾𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓈𝒸𝑜𝓅𝑒. 𝒜𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝒹𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓈 𝒻𝓁𝓊𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝓅𝒾𝑒𝒸𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓌𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝓊𝓉. 𝐼𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓁𝒶𝓇𝑔𝑒, 𝒶 𝓈𝑜𝒻𝓉 𝑒𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝑜𝓁, 𝒾𝓉’𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒶 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁 𝓈𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓎 𝒷𝓇𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓉𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝑒𝓃, 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃’𝓈 𝒹𝒾𝑒𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓎 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝒻𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓈, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝓇𝒻𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒾𝓇𝓇𝑒𝑔𝓊𝓁𝒶𝓇. 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝒹-𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒾𝒸𝒾𝓅𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓈𝑒𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒶𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒹𝓇𝑜𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝒷𝓎𝓈𝓈. 𝐻𝑒 𝓀𝑒𝓅𝓉 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽 𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓃 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒶 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓁𝑒, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉, 𝓈𝑜 𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝓁𝑜𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓌𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒶 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓃. 𝐼𝓉 𝒹𝒾𝒹𝓃’𝓉 𝓉𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝓉𝑒𝓍𝓉𝓊𝓇𝑒, 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹; 𝓈𝓂𝑜𝑜𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝒻𝓉 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓃𝑜 𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓊𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓌𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓉 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝒸𝓀𝓁𝓎. “𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝑒,” 𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝓈𝒽𝓎𝓁𝓎, “𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉.” 𝐻𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝓉𝓊𝓇𝓃𝓈 𝑔𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓉 – 𝒶 𝓉𝑜𝓉𝒶𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝒻𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 – 𝓁𝒾𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽 𝒶𝓃𝓊𝓈 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁. 𝒜𝓈 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝓁𝑒𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒾𝓇𝒸𝓁𝑒, 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝓎 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑒𝓃, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓇𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓅𝑜𝓈𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃, 𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽 𝓌𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝓅 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃’𝓈 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓂 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝓉𝓎 𝒸𝓁𝑒𝒻𝓉. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝒻𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑒𝒹, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶’𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒻𝒾𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓂𝓎𝓇𝒾𝒶𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓈𝓂𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝒷𝒶𝓁𝓁-𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝑒𝓍𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈, 𝓉𝑜𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝒾𝓃 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓀𝑒𝑒𝓅 𝒾𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽 – 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝒻𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓇 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓀𝓃𝑒𝑒𝓈, 𝒶 𝒻𝑒𝓌 𝒽𝒾𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓂𝒶𝒹𝑒 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓇𝓉. 𝐻𝑒 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓌𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓈 𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝒶𝓈 𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒻𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝓊𝓅 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓅𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓂𝒶𝓃𝒶𝑔𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝓈𝒽 𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓈. 𝐻𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒻𝒻𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝓃, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓌𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒, 𝒽𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇, 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒹𝒾𝒻𝒻𝒾𝒸𝓊𝓁𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓌, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓊𝒷𝓁𝑒𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌. 𝐻𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒾𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒾𝓉 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓂𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝑜𝑒𝓈𝑜𝓅𝒽𝒶𝑔𝓊𝓈, 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽. 𝐸𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒾𝓇𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓁, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌. “𝒟𝑜𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝒹𝓇𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝒻𝒻𝑒𝓇?” 𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓈𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓇𝒹𝒾𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎. “𝒮𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝒻𝓁𝓊𝓈𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽?” 𝐻𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝒶𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓃. 𝐻𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒹𝒾𝓂𝒾𝓃𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝒻𝓁𝒶𝒸𝒸𝒾𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝒾𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹. “𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝒶 𝒷𝒾𝓉,” 𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝒶𝓈 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓈𝓊𝓇𝓋𝑒𝓎𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀. 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝓊𝓅 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝒹𝑔𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝒶𝓉𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒸𝓀 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓌𝒶𝓇𝒹𝓈, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓂𝑜𝓋𝑒𝒹 𝓊𝓅 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝓊𝓉 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶’𝓈 𝒹𝒾𝓇𝓉𝓎 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽. 𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓂𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃, 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝓌 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒸𝑒𝓅𝓉𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃. 𝒮𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝒶 𝒹𝓇𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓂 𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑒 𝒻𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝒹, 𝑔𝓇𝑜𝓌𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝒶 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂, 𝓌𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒾𝓉 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒶 𝑔𝓁𝒶𝒸𝒾𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝓈𝒸𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝒻𝓇𝒶𝑔𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒸𝓁𝓊𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶’𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝓈 𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝒹. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒶 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝓉𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒, 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒾𝓉 𝒽𝑒 𝓀𝑒𝓅𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽, 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝒹𝓇𝑒𝓌. “𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓁𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓇,” 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹, “𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝓁𝑒𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒹𝓊𝓉𝓎.” 𝐻𝑒 𝓅𝓊𝓉 𝒶 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝓃 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶’𝓈 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓂. 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓁𝑒𝒻𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝒹𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝒾𝓁𝓎. 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝑜𝓃 𝓁𝒾𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓈 𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝑒𝓇𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓋𝒾𝒹𝑒𝒹, 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽 𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝓊𝓃𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝓈 𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹. 𝒮𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒷𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝓎 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓌 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓁𝓎, 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽 𝓂𝒶𝒹𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌. 𝒩𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈, 𝓉𝓌𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝑜𝒻𝒻𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝒹𝓇𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓂 𝑜𝒻 𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑒, 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽 𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓇𝒶𝒷𝓁𝓎, 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝒶𝓈 𝑒𝓍𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓈𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓃. 𝒮𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒻𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓇 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓉𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒾𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽, 𝓈𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓉 𝓁𝑒𝓃𝑔𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽, 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒷𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝑜𝒾𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓊𝓅 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓉 𝑜𝒻𝒻, 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝒸𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝒷𝓇𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝒸𝑜𝒶𝓉. 𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑒𝓃 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝑜𝓁; 𝒾𝓉 𝓈𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓇𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝓊𝓉𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶’𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝑜𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒. 𝐼𝓉 𝒻𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝒹 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝑒𝓀 𝒶𝓈 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁. 𝐼𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈, 𝒽𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇, 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌, 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓃𝒸𝓎 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓀𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓈𝓂𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓎 𝒷𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝒾𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶 𝓋𝒶𝑔𝓊𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒶 𝒻𝓁𝒶𝓋𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓊𝓃𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝒶𝓃𝓉. 𝒜 𝓂𝒶𝓃, 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝓈 𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓀𝑒𝒹, 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝓇 𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒹𝑒𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓅𝓈, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝓊𝓅 𝓉𝑜 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶, 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝒶𝒹𝓂𝒾𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝑒𝓍𝓅𝑜𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝑔𝓁𝒶𝓃𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒹𝓇𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝓋𝒾𝓈𝒾𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓁𝒾𝓉. 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝑜𝓃𝑔𝓊𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓊𝓅 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝓃𝑔𝓉𝒽, 𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝒾𝓃; 𝒶 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝒷𝒾𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓈𝓅𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽. 𝐻𝑒 𝒹𝓇𝒶𝑔𝑔𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓃 𝒻𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝓁𝒶𝓃𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝑒𝑒𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒹𝓊𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝓃𝑔𝓊𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝓇𝑒𝓌𝒶𝓇𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝑒𝓈𝑒-𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝑒𝓍𝓉𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓈𝓂𝑒𝑔𝓂𝒶. 𝐼𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓈𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓁𝓎 𝓈𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝒸𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓉𝒶𝓈𝓉𝓎, 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓈𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝒶𝓉 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓈𝑒𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒾𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝒾𝓃 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶’𝓈 𝑒𝓎𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓂𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝑒𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒. “𝐼’𝓂 𝑔𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝓂𝓎 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓇𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝓎𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻,” 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹. “𝐼𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑜𝓀𝒶𝓎?” 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓃𝑜𝒹𝒹𝑒𝒹. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒶 𝓈𝓉𝑒𝒶𝒹𝓎 𝑔𝓇𝒾𝓅 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒷𝑜𝓉𝒽 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶’𝓈 𝒿𝒶𝓌 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝓊𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒹𝑒𝑒𝓅𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓃, 𝓈𝒸𝓇𝒶𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝑜𝓃𝑔𝓊𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒸𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝑒𝓈𝑜𝓅𝒽𝒶𝑔𝓊𝓈. 𝒜𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝒻𝒾𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝒶𝓉, 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒, 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽 𝓂𝒶𝒹𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝓉𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽 𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝑔𝓇𝓎 𝓅𝓊𝓁𝓈𝑒𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓈𝒶𝓁. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓂 𝒻𝓁𝑜𝓌 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝒶𝓉, 𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝒾𝓉 𝓈𝓅𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃, 𝒿𝑜𝒾𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉-𝒻𝒾𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓂𝒶𝒸𝒽. 𝐻𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒶 𝒽𝓊𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝑜𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓉, 𝒶 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑜𝓃-𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹’𝓈 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉, 𝓅𝒾𝓈𝓈, 𝓋𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓉, 𝓅𝓊𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓃; 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉-𝓈𝓁𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒶𝓈 𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓈 𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓈𝒾𝒷𝓁𝑒, 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝒷𝑜𝒹𝒾𝓁𝓎 𝑒𝒻𝒻𝓁𝓊𝓋𝒾𝒶 𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝓇𝒾𝒻𝒾𝒸𝑒𝓈 𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹, 𝓇𝓊𝒷𝒷𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝒻𝒾𝓁𝓉𝒽 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒽𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒷𝑜𝒹𝓎, 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓇𝓋𝑒𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑒𝓁𝓈𝑒. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓅𝓊𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓊𝓉. 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓉𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒶 𝒹𝑒𝑒𝓅 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽, 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝓌𝒾𝒸𝑒, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝑒 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃. “𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒶𝓈𝓉𝓎 𝒹𝓇𝒾𝓃𝓀,” 𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓁𝑒𝒹. “𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓈𝑜 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝑒, 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝒹𝑒𝓁𝒾𝒸𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈. 𝐼𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝑒, 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝒹𝑜! 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒷𝓊𝑔𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝓂𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝓂𝑒, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓅𝒾𝓈𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝓂𝑒, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉 𝓊𝓅 𝓂𝓎 𝒷𝑜𝓉𝓉𝑜𝓂, 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝑒! 𝒲𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒?” 𝐻𝑒 𝒸𝓇𝒶𝓌𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒸𝓀 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝓇𝓈𝑒 𝓊𝓅 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝑒𝑔𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓊𝓅 𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹; 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓇𝓉 𝒻𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀𝓌𝒶𝓇𝒹𝓈 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝑜𝒹𝓎, 𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑒𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒸𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓁𝓎 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃 𝒷𝓊𝓉𝓉𝑜𝒸𝓀𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝓊𝓈. 𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝓂 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝑔𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝓈𝓁𝑜𝓌𝓁𝓎 𝓈𝑜 𝒶𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓃𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓅𝓇𝒾𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓎, 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝒾𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓅𝒾𝑒𝓇𝒸𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓁𝑒𝓃𝑔𝓉𝒽. “𝒩𝑜 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓁𝓊𝒷𝑒, 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝒶𝓇𝓈𝑒 𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝓈𝓅𝒾𝓉𝓉𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉, 𝑜𝓀𝒶𝓎?” 𝒜𝓈 𝒾𝒻 𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝓊𝑒, 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑒𝓃 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝓊𝓅 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓅𝒶𝓉 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒶 𝒷𝒾𝑔 𝒻𝑜𝒶𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝓊𝓂𝓅 𝑜𝒻 𝓈𝓅𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝒹𝓇𝑜𝓅 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶’𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝓊𝓈. 𝐼𝓉 𝒻𝑒𝓁𝓉 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝑜𝒾𝓃𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓇𝓎𝓌𝒶𝓎. 𝐻𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝑜𝓃, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝑔𝓇𝒾𝓂𝒶𝒸𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝓅𝒽𝒾𝓃𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇’𝓈 𝑒𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒸𝒾𝓉𝓎, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓅𝓁𝓊𝓃𝑔𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝑜𝒾𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝑒𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓈 𝓉𝓇𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝓆𝓊𝑒𝑒𝓏𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓈 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁. 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓌𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝒹, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝓁𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝒶𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓈𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝑒. “𝒟𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝑒,” 𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹, “𝓌𝑒 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒’𝓈 𝓃𝑜 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓀. 𝒯𝑜𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓈 𝒹𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓀, 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓊𝓈𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝒹𝓇𝑜𝓅. 𝒮𝒽𝓊𝓉 𝓊𝓅 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑒𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒽𝑜𝓇𝑒.” 𝒜𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹, 𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝓊𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓈𝓊𝒹𝒹𝑒𝓃𝓁𝓎, 𝒹𝓇𝒶𝑔𝑔𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓈𝓁𝒾𝓂𝓎 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝑜𝓁 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶’𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓈. “𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝒷𝒶𝒹 𝓉𝑜𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓉, 𝒾𝓉 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓀𝓈. 𝒟𝑜𝑒𝓈 𝒾𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶 𝒷𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓉 𝒻𝓊𝓃𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃, 𝓉𝑜𝑜? 𝐼𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇.” 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝒸𝓇𝒶𝓌𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓊𝓅 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝒶𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝑜𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝓊𝓉𝓉𝑜𝒸𝓀𝓈 (𝓈𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉 𝑜𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓇𝓉 𝒶𝓈 𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝒹) 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝒷𝒷𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶 𝓈𝑜𝓁𝒾𝒹 𝑔𝓇𝒾𝓅 𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽, 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓉 𝒸𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝒹𝑒𝓉𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓊𝓈. 𝒲𝒽𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝓀𝑒𝒹, 𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒶𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀, 𝓈𝑜 𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓅𝑜𝓈𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓂𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝓈𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝓊𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝓀. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝒻𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝓊𝓅 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓇𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒸𝓀 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝒾𝓃, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝑒𝒶𝓈𝒾𝓁𝓎, 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑜𝓁𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒶𝓁𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝓎 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜𝒹𝒶𝓎, 𝓁𝓊𝒷𝓇𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉. 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓂𝑜𝒶𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓈 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒶𝓈 𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝒾𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽, 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽 𝒷𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝒹𝒾𝓇𝓉𝓎 𝓈𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓋𝒶 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽 𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝒹𝓇𝒶𝓌𝓃 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒, 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽 𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝓊𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝓇𝓋𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒷𝒿𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓁 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓇, 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝓇𝑒𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇, 𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑒𝓃 𝒷𝑒𝑔𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑜𝒶𝓃 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒾𝒸𝑒𝒶𝒷𝓁𝓎, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒶 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶’𝓈 𝒹𝒾𝓇𝓉𝓎 𝒽𝑜𝓁𝑒. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑒𝓃 𝓁𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓂𝑜𝓃𝑔𝓈𝓉 𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽 𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓃 𝓈𝓊𝒷𝒹𝓊𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝑜𝓊𝓉, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝓅𝓊𝓉 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝑜𝓈𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒾𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒𝑔𝒶𝓃, 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓈 𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝑒𝑔𝓈 𝓊𝓅 𝒷𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝓉𝓊𝓇𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓉𝑜𝓌𝒶𝓇𝒹𝓈 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶’𝓈 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝒽, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒹, 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒷𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓈, 𝓂𝒶𝒹𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶’𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝓊𝓈 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓃, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝒷𝑒𝑔𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝓅𝓊𝓈𝒽. 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝓈𝑜, 𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓈𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓈𝒻𝒶𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉. 𝐹𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝑒𝓈𝒸𝒶𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝒶 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝓇𝑜𝓅𝑒-𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝒷𝓇𝑜𝓀𝑒 𝑜𝒻𝒻; 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝒻𝒶𝒾𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝓃 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝓉𝒶𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓉, 𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝓉𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝑜𝓃 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶’𝓈 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓊𝓂 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒸𝓁𝑒𝓈. 𝐻𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝑒𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓇𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓁𝒾𝒹 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓅𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓉, 𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝑜𝑜 𝒷𝒾𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑜 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 (𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒾𝓉 𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒻𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝒻𝑒𝓁𝓉 𝒾𝓉’𝓈 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓉𝒽 𝒻𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒶 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀). 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉, 𝒽𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇, 𝒸𝓁𝓊𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝒾𝓂 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓇𝒾𝒻𝒾𝒸𝑒. 𝒜𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑒𝓃 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝓊𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶’𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝓊𝓈 𝒶𝓈 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒶𝓈 𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓈𝒾𝒷𝓁𝑒, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒻𝒻𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑒𝓈𝓈, 𝓅𝓊𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝒻 𝒾𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃. “𝒜𝒽, 𝓎𝑒𝓈!” 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝒸𝓇𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓊𝓉. “𝒞𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝓂𝑒, 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒻𝒻 𝓂𝑒 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉!” “𝒮𝒽𝓊𝓉 𝓊𝓅, 𝒯𝑜𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝓌𝒽𝑜𝓇𝑒,” 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝒸𝓀𝓁𝓎 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝒸𝓁𝒾𝓂𝒶𝓍 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 (𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒻𝒻 𝒶𝓁𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝓎 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃, 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝒾𝓉, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌𝓁𝑒𝒹𝑔𝑒 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓂). 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓅𝓊𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓊𝓉, 𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒸𝓀 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒾𝓃. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒, 𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝑜𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓀𝓃𝑒𝑒𝓈 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶’𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒸𝓀 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒶𝓎, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝒸𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝑜𝒻𝒻 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒾𝓉. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓀𝑒𝓅𝓉 𝒷𝓊𝑔𝑔𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒾𝓂; 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝒾𝓇𝒸𝓁𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝑒𝓃 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒸𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝒻𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒶𝓁𝓈𝑜 𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓅𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈𝓁𝓎 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝒾𝓂. 𝒮𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝒾𝓇, 𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑔𝑔𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝓁𝑒𝓃𝑔𝓉𝒽 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓃𝑔𝓁𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓉𝑜𝓊𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒷𝓇𝒾𝑒𝒻𝓁𝓎. “𝒪𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝒶𝓉𝓈, 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒’𝓈 𝒶 𝓅𝓁𝓊𝑔 𝑜𝓃 𝒶 𝓈𝒽𝑒𝓁𝒻,” 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹; “𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒻𝒻 𝒾𝓉 𝓊𝓅 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝑜𝓁𝑒 𝓈𝑜 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓀𝑒𝑒𝓅 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝑔𝒾𝒻𝓉𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝓂𝑒, 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒, 𝓂𝓎 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈.” 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒸𝓁𝑜𝓈𝑒𝓈𝓉, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝒷𝓁𝒾𝑔𝑒𝒹, 𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝓊𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓈𝒽𝓁𝓎 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓅𝑜𝓈𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶 𝓈𝓅𝒾𝓃𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓀𝑒𝓅𝓉 𝑜𝓃 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑔𝑔𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉 𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒸𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓁𝒾𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒸𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓃. 𝐻𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓈 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒸𝓇𝒶𝓂𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓁𝓎, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝓂𝒶𝒹𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹𝑒𝓇. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒸𝓊𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝑔𝓊𝓈𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝑔𝒶𝓏𝑒𝓈, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓂 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝓇𝒶𝓃 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓇𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝓊𝓅 𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓇𝓉. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓋𝓊𝓁𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝒸𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝑜𝑜 𝑜𝒻𝒻 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑔𝑔𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹. 𝐻𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝓊𝓅 𝑜𝒻𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝓈𝒸𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝑜𝓌𝑒𝒹 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓈 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝑒𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉. “𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽, 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝑒 𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉-𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈,” 𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹. 𝟤 𝒮𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓁𝑒𝒹, 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓈𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓈𝒻𝒶𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽 𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓇𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝒻𝒻. 𝐻𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒸𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝓇𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒, 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝑜𝒻 𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒. 𝑀𝒶𝓎𝒷𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓂𝓅𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝑒𝓎𝑒𝓈, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓃𝑜𝓃𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓁𝒶𝓃𝓉𝓁𝓎 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒷𝑒 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒶 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹. 𝐼𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈𝓃’𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈; 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝒹𝒾𝒹 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝓇𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝒶𝓈𝓉. 𝐻𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒻𝒾𝒻𝓉𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝑜𝓁𝒹, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒻𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓇𝑔𝓊𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝑜𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓃 𝓇𝓊𝓃 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒 (𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓃𝑜 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓂𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝑒), 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑔𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝒶 𝓁𝒶𝓇𝑔𝑒 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝓃𝑒𝒶𝓇𝒷𝓎. 𝒜𝓉 𝑒𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓂𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓀, 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓀𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓏𝒾𝑔𝓏𝒶𝑔𝑔𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝓇𝒶𝒹𝒾𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒹, 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓅𝓊𝒷𝓁𝒾𝒸 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑜𝑜𝓂𝓈. 𝐻𝑒’𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝓇𝓉𝒾𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓁𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉 𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹. 𝒜 𝓅𝓈𝓎𝒸𝒽𝑜𝓁𝑜𝑔𝒾𝓈𝓉 𝓂𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓊𝓁𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓅𝓈𝓎𝒸𝒽𝒾𝒶𝓉𝓇𝒾𝒸 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝑜𝓇𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝑜𝓃 𝒷𝓎 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓎 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒾𝒹𝑒𝒶 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝑜𝒸𝒸𝓊𝓇𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝓂, 𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓈𝑒. 𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑜𝓃 𝒾𝓉 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒻𝒾𝑒𝓇𝒸𝑒; 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓁𝒾𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉 𝑜𝒻𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓈 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒𝒽𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝒶𝓉 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓎, 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝑒𝓃𝑔𝓉𝒽 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓈𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒾𝒸𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝒶 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝑒𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒹. 𝒜𝓁𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝓎 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓎𝓈, 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓈𝓈-𝒹𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓁𝓎, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝑒𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶 𝓁𝒶𝓇𝑔𝑒 𝑒𝓁𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓇𝓉 𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓇𝓉. 𝐻𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒷𝒶𝒷𝓁𝓎 𝓋𝒾𝓈𝒾𝒷𝓁𝑒. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝓈𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶 𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒹𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑒𝓃’𝓈 𝒷𝒶𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝑜𝓂, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓈𝒽𝓁𝓎 𝓉𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶’𝓈 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝓊𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝓈𝑒𝒶𝓉, 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑜𝑜𝓉𝒽. 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑒𝓈𝒸𝒶𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶’𝓈 𝓁𝓊𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝓂𝒶𝒹𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝒸𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓁𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝓍, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓂𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝓊𝒹𝒹𝑒𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓁𝑒. 𝐻𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝑔𝑜 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝑔𝓇𝒾𝓅 𝑜𝓃 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶’𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝒻𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝓅𝓁𝓊𝓂𝒷 𝑜𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝓇𝓈𝑒 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝓈𝑒𝒶𝓉, 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝓈𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝒻 𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶 𝓉𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓃𝑜𝒹𝒹𝑒𝒹, 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓊𝓅𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝒷𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒾𝓂𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝓇𝓉𝓎 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀, 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝑜𝒻 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓁𝑒 𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒶 𝒸𝑜𝓅𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒶𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓈𝓂𝑒𝑔𝓂𝒶 𝒸𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓃. 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓉𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽, 𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝓁𝑜𝓉 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝑒𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒾𝒸𝒾𝓅𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒹, 𝒽𝒾𝒹𝒹𝑒𝓃 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓁𝒹𝓈 𝒶𝓈 𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝑜𝓃𝑔𝓊𝑒. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝓈𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝒻 𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓅𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓃. 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝓊𝓅, 𝓉𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝑜𝒻𝒻 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒾𝑒𝓈, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝒶𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝓈𝑒𝒶𝓉 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓁. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒶𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝒷𝑒𝒽𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓊𝓃𝓁𝓊𝒷𝓇𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈𝓉 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶’𝓈 𝓈𝓅𝒽𝒾𝓃𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇. 𝐼𝓉 𝓉𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝒶 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒹𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝒶 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑜𝓃𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓌𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝒹, 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓉𝓇𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓈𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂 𝑜𝒻 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓃, 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒶𝓁𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓃𝒹𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑜 𝑜𝓃. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓋𝒾𝓁𝓎 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝓁𝒾𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑜𝑜𝓂 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓁, 𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝒽𝑒 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑒𝒿𝒶𝒸𝓊𝓁𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶’𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓈. 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓉𝓊𝓇𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝓁𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈 𝑜𝒻𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓁𝑜𝓌𝓁𝓎 𝓈𝑜𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝒸𝓀. 𝐻𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓈 𝓉𝓊𝓇𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝓁𝑜𝑜𝒹. 𝐻𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝒹𝓃’𝓉 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒, 𝑒𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇; 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒶𝓁 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑜 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒹𝑜 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇. 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶’𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝓉𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓂𝓂𝑒𝒹𝒾𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓎. “𝒫𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒!” 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹, “𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓂𝑒 𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝓉𝑜𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓉! 𝒢𝑜 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽, 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒!” 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓁𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒶 𝓃𝒶𝓈𝓉𝓎 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹𝓃’𝓉 𝓂𝑒𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝒶 𝓎𝑒𝒶𝓇. 𝐻𝑒 𝓅𝓊𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒𝓇𝓈, 𝓉𝓊𝓇𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝒷𝓊𝓇𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓂 𝓈𝓌𝑒𝒶𝓉𝓎 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝑒𝓀𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓁𝒾𝒸𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝒻𝒾𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽. 𝐻𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃, 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉, 𝒶𝓈 𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓇 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓃, 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝓉𝓊𝑔𝑔𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝒽 𝓉𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝓁𝒶𝓇. 𝐻𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒻𝑒𝓁𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝓁𝓊𝑔 𝓅𝓊𝓈𝒽 𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒸 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝒶𝓉, 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓊𝓂𝒶𝒷𝓁𝓎 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑜𝓃, 𝓈𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝒹𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝓇𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓇𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓋𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈𝓁𝓎. 𝐼𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉, 𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝓌𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝒶 𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓀 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓊𝓈𝓊𝒶𝓁 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓃𝒸𝓎. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓊𝓉𝑜, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓊𝓃𝓏𝒾𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝑔𝒶𝓃 𝒹𝓇𝒾𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔. 𝐻𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔. “𝒟𝑜 𝒾𝓉 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝒹𝑜 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝓂𝑒𝓇𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒻𝒾𝓁𝓂𝓈,” 𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹, “𝓈𝓊𝒸𝓀 𝓂𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝐼 𝒹𝓇𝒾𝓋𝑒. 𝐼’𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝓇𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉.” 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒷𝑒 𝒶 𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓅𝒶𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒹𝒾𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝑜𝒷𝒿𝑒𝒸𝓉, 𝓈𝑜 𝒷𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓉𝒸𝒽 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝓁𝑜𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓈 𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝒸𝓀. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓇 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝑜𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝒹𝓇𝒾𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓂𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒸𝒶𝓇 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝓇𝒶𝓂𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓁-𝓉𝑜-𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝓊𝒾𝓁𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓎. “𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶 𝓈𝓊𝓇𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓈𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝑒 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝒽𝑜𝓂𝑒,” 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶’𝓈 𝒷𝑜𝒷𝒷𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝒶𝓅, “𝐼 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊’𝓁𝓁 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽.” 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓈𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝒹. 𝐻𝑒 𝒻𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝒶𝓈𝓁𝑒𝑒𝓅 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒾𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝒷𝑒𝓃𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝓇𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝓉𝒾𝒶𝓇𝒶 𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓁𝓎. 𝟥 𝐼𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝒶𝓇𝒹𝑒𝓃 𝒷𝑒𝒽𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒, 𝑒𝓃𝒸𝓁𝑜𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝓎 𝒽𝒾𝑔𝒽 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝑜𝓃𝓇𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓉𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓈 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓉𝑒, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓀𝑒𝓅𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝑔𝑔𝒶𝓇𝒹-𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒟𝑜𝒷𝑒𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓈. 𝒜 𝑔𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑒𝑒𝓉, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓁𝓎 𝓉𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝓊𝓅 𝓃𝑒𝓍𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒶 𝓈𝓂𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓎 𝒹𝑜𝑔-𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓂𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓇𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒹, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝒷𝒶𝓇𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝑒𝓃𝒶𝒸𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓁𝓎 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝑔𝓊𝒾𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝒽. 𝐿𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈 𝒻𝓁𝑜𝑜𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝒶𝓇𝓇𝑒𝓃 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝑔𝒶𝓇𝒹𝑒𝓃 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝑜𝑜𝒻-𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓁𝒶𝓂𝓅𝓈 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒹𝒶, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓈𝓈 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓂𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒹𝓇𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒹𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓈, 𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑒𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝓊𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝓃𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝑔𝓈 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝓇𝓉𝓎, 𝓂𝓊𝒹 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓅𝒶𝓌𝓈, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓈𝒸𝑒𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝑒𝓀 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝓈. 𝐻𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒻𝒻𝑒𝓃𝑒𝒹. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝓁𝒶𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝑜𝒹𝑒𝓃 𝓅𝑜𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝑔𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇𝓈 𝓉𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜. 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓌𝒶𝒾𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓅𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓁𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑒𝓍𝓉, 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒶 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝒾𝒹𝑒𝒶. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶’𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓇, 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓉, 𝓈𝓁𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝓊𝓉𝓉𝑜𝒸𝓀𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝓁𝓊𝑔. 𝒯𝓌𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝒸𝑒𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝒹𝓇𝑒𝓌 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶 𝓅𝓁𝑜𝓅𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝒹 𝒶 𝒻𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉 𝓂𝒾𝓍𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓅𝒾𝓈𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓇𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓁𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝓌𝑜 𝓎𝒶𝓇𝒹𝓈, 𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝒾𝓉 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝒷𝓇𝓊𝓅𝓉𝓁𝓎 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶 𝒻𝒶𝓇𝓉. 𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝑔𝓈 𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒶𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒽𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝒻𝑒𝓁𝓉 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝓇𝒶𝓈𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜𝓃𝑔𝓊𝑒 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈𝓉 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝓊𝓉𝓉𝑜𝒸𝓀𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝓊𝓈. “𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓇𝒾𝑔𝑔𝑒𝒹 𝓊𝓅 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓈 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒶 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃”, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝑜𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓈 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓈𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓈𝓉. “𝐼’𝓂 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝒻𝒻𝑒𝓇 𝒶 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓌. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝑔𝓈 – 𝐼 𝒹𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝐼 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝑒 – 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒾𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓁 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽. 𝒴𝑜𝓊’𝓇𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉.” 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝓊𝓅 𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝒹𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓅𝑜𝓃𝓈𝑒. “𝒢𝑜𝑜𝒹,” 𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓅𝓁𝒾𝑒𝒹. “𝐼’𝓂 𝑔𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝓇𝑒𝓉𝒾𝓇𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉. 𝒢𝑒𝓉 𝒷𝓊𝓈𝓎, 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝓁𝑒𝑒𝓅, 𝓉𝑜𝑜. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝑔𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒.” 𝐻𝑒 𝓅𝑜𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓉, 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝓊𝓇𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝓊𝓅 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝓌𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓅𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒹𝒶, 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓈 𝒹𝑜𝑜𝓇 𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓇. 𝒜 𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝓊𝓇𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓃 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝒻𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓁𝒶𝓂𝓅𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝑔𝒶𝓇𝒹𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝓈𝑜 𝓁𝒾𝓉; 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒶𝓂𝓅𝓁𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉. 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓈, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓀𝑜𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒, 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈, 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝑔 𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝒾𝓂𝓅𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓁𝓎 𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓊𝓅 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓃𝒾𝒻𝒻𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓂. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓇𝒾𝒷𝓁𝑒, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓌𝑜𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝒻𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒹𝑜𝑔𝓈. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝑔’𝓈 𝓉𝑜𝓃𝑔𝓊𝑒 𝒽𝓊𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓊𝓉, 𝓂𝑜𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓁𝓎 𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝓊𝓉, 𝓈𝒾𝓁𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒶𝓂𝓅𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓂𝑜𝓋𝑒𝒹 𝒸𝓁𝑜𝓈𝑒𝓇, 𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒸𝓀 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝓉𝑜𝓃𝑔𝓊𝑒 𝑜𝓊𝓉. 𝐻𝒾𝓈 𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝓉𝑜𝓊𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝑔’𝓈 𝓉𝑜𝓃𝑔𝓊𝑒, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝒶𝓇𝓈𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝓇𝒻𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝒾𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝑔’𝓈 𝓈𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓋𝒶. 𝐻𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝓉𝑜𝓌𝒶𝓇𝒹𝓈 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓇𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒻𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝓊𝓅 𝑜𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝓊𝓅 𝓈𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓁𝓎 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝑔’𝓈 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝓁𝓎. 𝐵𝑒𝓉𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝓁𝑒𝑔𝓈, 𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝑔 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓉; 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓋𝒾𝓈𝒾𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝓈𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒷𝓊𝓁𝑔𝑒, 𝑒𝓃𝒸𝓁𝑜𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝓎 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝒻𝓊𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽. 𝐻𝑒 𝓅𝓊𝓉 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝒻𝓉 𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒶𝑔𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝓈𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓁𝓎, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝓌 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝑔𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹. 𝒜 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁 𝓅𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝓊𝓇𝓅𝓁𝑒 𝓋𝑒𝒾𝓃𝓈 𝒾𝓉 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝓌 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝓇𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝓈𝒾𝓏𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓉’𝓈 𝒹𝓇𝑜𝑜𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝑔𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝓇𝑒𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝒹𝓇𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓈𝓅𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓈𝑒𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒶𝓁 𝒻𝓁𝓊𝒾𝒹. 𝐻𝑒 𝓅𝓊𝓉 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓃𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝑔 – 𝒾𝓉 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓁 – 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓂 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓎 𝓅𝑒𝓃𝒾𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽. 𝒲𝒽𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓃 𝒾𝓉, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝑔 𝒷𝑒𝑔𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝓉𝓈𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝓊𝑔𝑔𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃, 𝑒𝒶𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓅𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝓊𝓂𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝓈𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽. 𝐼𝓉 𝓉𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝒾𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝒶𝒹𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝑔 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓂𝑒𝒹 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝓎, 𝓈𝑜 𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝒾𝑔 𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝓃𝒹𝒶𝑔𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽. 𝒜𝓉 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝒷𝒶𝓈𝑒, 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒸𝓁𝑒𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝓎𝑜𝓃𝒹, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒶𝓇𝑔𝑒 𝒷𝓊𝓁𝑔𝑒 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝑔𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝓁𝑜𝒶𝓉. 𝐻𝑒 𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝓇𝒾𝓁𝓁: 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝒶𝓈𝓃’𝓉 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝑒𝓍𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒹𝑜𝑔𝓈. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒹𝑜𝑔𝓈 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒸𝓊𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓌, 𝓈𝑜 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝑒𝒻𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒸𝓁𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝒷𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓀𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝑔𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝓀. 𝑀𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓁𝑒, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝑔 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝓇𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 𝒽𝒾𝓂. 𝐼𝓉 𝒽𝓊𝓂𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝓅𝒶𝓌𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝒸𝓁𝑜𝓈𝑒𝓇, 𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝑒𝓁𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈𝓉 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒹𝒾𝓇𝓉𝓎 𝒽𝑜𝓁𝑒. 𝒜𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝒾𝑔 𝓅𝓁𝓊𝑔, 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝒾𝓃, 𝒽𝓊𝓂𝓅 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒶 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝑒𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓉. 𝒲𝒾𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓉𝓊𝓂, 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒶 𝓋𝒶𝑔𝓊𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓈𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒻𝒾𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓉𝒽. 𝒜𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝒽𝑒 𝓀𝑒𝓅𝓉 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒹𝑜𝑔. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝑔 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓂𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝓅𝓁𝑜𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓊𝓉 (𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒), 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝓈𝑜 𝑒𝒶𝓈𝒾𝓁𝓎. 𝐻𝑒 𝓉𝓊𝓇𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉, 𝒻𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝓈𝑒𝓍, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝑔𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒 𝑜𝒻𝒻 𝒾𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝓇𝒾𝒸𝓀𝓁𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓈𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝓊𝑒𝒹, 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝒹𝑜𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒾𝑜𝓃. 𝐼𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓉𝒾𝒸, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝓊𝑔𝑔𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒶 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝓎 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒶 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒶𝓁 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝒸𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃. 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶’𝓈 𝒷𝑜𝓉𝓉𝑜𝓂 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝒶𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓎’𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒶𝓁 𝑒𝓍𝑒𝓇𝒸𝒾𝓈𝑒𝓈, 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑜𝓃 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓈𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓌𝒶𝓎. 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝓊𝓇𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝒹𝑜𝑔’𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀, 𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝒶𝓃 𝒾𝒹𝑒𝒶 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝓊𝒸𝓀 𝒽𝒾𝓂. 𝐻𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓇𝒹 𝒹𝑜𝑔’𝓈 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝒽, 𝒹𝓇𝒶𝑔𝑔𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝒸𝓁𝑜𝓈𝑒, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑔𝑔𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓉’𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝒾𝓉 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝑜𝒹. 𝐻𝑒 𝓅𝓊𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓇𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓀𝓃𝑒𝑒𝓈; 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓇𝒹 𝒹𝑜𝑔 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒾𝓂, 𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝒹𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝓃𝑒; 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒, 𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒸𝓀 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝑜𝓃𝑔𝓊𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝓈𝑒 𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝒽𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝓇𝑜𝑜𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓁, 𝒻𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝒻𝓉 𝓅𝓁𝒾𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓈𝓅𝒽𝒾𝓃𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇. 𝐻𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝓊𝓅 𝑜𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓀𝓃𝑒𝑒𝓈 (𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝒶𝓌𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓇𝒹 𝒹𝑜𝑔 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓁𝑒; 𝒾𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝓊𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝓊𝓂𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔) 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝓊𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒹. 𝐼𝓉 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓂𝓅𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒹, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒹𝒾𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝓁𝑒𝓈𝒽 𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒷𝓊𝓇𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝓉𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒸𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓃𝓈. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝑔 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝒾𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝓊𝓈 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝒷𝑒𝑔𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝓅𝓇𝒶𝓎 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝓌𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝒹, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓇𝒹 𝒹𝑜𝑔, 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒷𝒾𝑔𝑔𝑒𝓇, 𝒹𝒾𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒶𝓃 𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓎 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝓉𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓋𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝓉𝑜𝑜. 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓈𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓁𝓎, 𝒾𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝓂𝒶𝒾𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓉𝓉𝒶𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃 𝒾𝓉; 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝓊𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓊𝓉. 𝒜𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈, 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓇𝒹 𝒹𝑜𝑔 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝑒 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒽𝑜𝓁𝑒. 𝐻𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝓊𝓇𝓃 𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝓀 𝒾𝓉’𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝒸𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓃, 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒾𝒸𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝒹𝑜𝑔 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓂𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝑜𝓃 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶 𝒷𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓁 𝓂𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉. 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝒸𝓀𝓁𝓎 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓈𝓅𝑜𝓉 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝓈𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓃-𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒𝒹 (𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝑜𝓌𝓃) 𝓃𝒶𝓇𝓇𝑜𝓌 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝑔𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓇𝑔𝑒 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝒾𝓇. 𝐻𝑒 𝓅𝓊𝓉 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽 𝓊𝓅 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑜𝓁𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝓊𝒸𝓀𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝓀𝑒𝒹, 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝒽𝓎 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝒻𝒾𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽. 𝐼𝓉 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓂𝑒𝒹 𝒶 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓁𝑒 𝒹𝓇𝑜𝓅𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝒻𝒻𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉, 𝓈𝑜 𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓌𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓁𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓉; 𝒹𝑜𝑔 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝒻𝒻𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝓊𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓈; 𝒾𝓉 𝒹𝒾𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝓉 𝓉𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒 𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝒶𝒹 (𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒹𝑒𝒹). 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝒹𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓇𝒹 𝒹𝑜𝑔; 𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝓈𝑜𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒹𝓇𝒾𝓅𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝒸𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓃 𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝒾𝓉 𝓋𝒶𝓃𝒾𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽. 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝑜𝒾𝓃𝓉 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝑒𝓍𝒽𝒶𝓊𝓈𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒹𝒶𝓎, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝓇𝒶𝓌𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝑔𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒. 𝒪𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝒶𝓇𝓇𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝑜𝑜𝒹𝑒𝓃 𝒷𝑜𝒶𝓇𝒹𝓈 𝒽𝑒 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝒸𝓀𝓁𝓎 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝒸𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃-𝒽𝓊𝓃𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓅𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝒹𝑒𝑒𝓅𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝓁𝓊𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇. 𝟦 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓌𝑜𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓇𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝒻𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒸𝑒𝓃𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝒸𝑒𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝓊𝓃, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓈𝓊𝒹𝒹𝑒𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝓉𝓊𝓇𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝒹. 𝐻𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝑔𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒, 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝓊𝓅 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝓊𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓇𝓉 𝓊𝓅 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝒶𝒹 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓏𝑒𝓃 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝑒𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝒶𝒸𝓀. 𝐻𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓂𝒶𝒸𝒽 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓋𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓉𝑒𝒹; 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝒷𝓇𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝓈𝓁𝒾𝓂𝓎 𝓌𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒 𝑔𝓊𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝓇𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓈𝓈. 𝐼𝓉 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓂𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓂𝒶𝒸𝒽 𝒹𝒾𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒶𝑔𝓇𝑒𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝑔 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉; 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁, 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒹𝓊𝓉𝓎 𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝓉𝑜𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓈𝑜𝒾𝓁 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓃𝑒𝓇; 𝓈𝑜 𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓀𝓃𝑒𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝑔𝒶𝓃 𝓁𝒶𝓅𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓉 𝓊𝓅. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝑔𝓈, 𝒽𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇, 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓋𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝒶𝓇 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓁𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝒾𝓉 𝓊𝓅 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒽𝑒; 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓈𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓁𝓎, 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒾𝓉. 𝒜 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓂𝑒, 𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉; 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃 – 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝓁𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃, 𝓃𝑜𝓌. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝒹𝑜𝑜𝓇𝓈 𝓈𝓌𝓊𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓇𝑔𝑒𝒹. 𝐻𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓌𝑒𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓇𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝓎 𝓉𝒾𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝒷𝓁𝓊𝑒 𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒𝓇𝓈; 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓊𝓇𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀. 𝒲𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶 𝒷𝒾𝑔 𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝒶𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓈𝓈 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝓊𝓅 𝓉𝑜 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝒶𝓃𝒹 – 𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝒷𝓇𝓊𝓅𝓉𝓁𝓎 – 𝒷𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝑒𝓃𝒾𝓈. 𝒮𝓂𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝒻𝓉, 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓌𝒶𝓈𝓃’𝓉 𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝒻 𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝓀𝑒𝒹. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝓈𝓌𝑒𝓇 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝓈𝓅𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓅𝒾𝓈𝓈 𝑔𝓊𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝑒. “𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑜𝒻𝒻 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝐼 𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓊𝓇𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝓎𝑜𝓊’𝓇𝑒 𝒶 𝒷𝒾𝓉 𝒹𝒾𝓇𝓉𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒’𝓈 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉 𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽,” 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝒶𝓈 𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝓊𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓅𝒾𝓈𝓈, 𝓌𝒶𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝒽𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇, 𝓌𝑒𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇. 𝐼𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝒶𝓊𝓉𝓊𝓂𝓃𝒶𝓁 𝓌𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇, 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝒻𝑒𝓁𝓉 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓏𝑒𝓃 𝒶𝓈 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈𝒽 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹. 𝐵𝓊𝓉, 𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉, 𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝒷𝑒 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃, 𝒹𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝒹. “𝒟𝒾𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒻𝓊𝓃? 𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓇𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝓈𝒶𝓌 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔.” 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓃𝑜𝒹𝒹𝑒𝒹. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓅𝓁𝓊𝒸𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝓊𝓅 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝓁𝓊𝑔 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹. 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓇𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝒶𝓈 𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒶𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝑒𝑔𝓈, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝑒𝓇𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝓁𝓊𝑔 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝑜𝒹𝑒𝓃 𝓅𝑜𝓁𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓈𝑒𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶’𝓈 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝒽, 𝓉𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒾𝓉, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝓌𝑜 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓃𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓊𝓉𝑜 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝓇𝒶𝓂𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝒹𝓇𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓌𝒶𝓎. 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓈𝒶𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒸. “𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓇𝑒𝑒𝓀 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒶 𝓅𝓊𝒷𝓁𝒾𝒸 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑜𝑜𝓂,” 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝒶𝓈 𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝓁𝑜𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝒷𝑒𝒽𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝑒𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝑒𝓁. “𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉’𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝒶𝓂,” 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓇𝑒𝓅𝓁𝒾𝑒𝒹. “𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓈𝒽, 𝐼 𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝓌𝒶𝓈𝒽 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝑒. 𝐼 𝒹𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝑜𝒻𝒻 𝓂𝓎 𝒸𝓁𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓈; 𝐼 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓌𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒶𝓈𝒽 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝓈𝓊𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒻𝒾𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇’𝓈 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒸𝓀 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝑜𝓇 𝓂𝑒. 𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝒾𝓁𝓉𝒽 𝑜𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝒷𝑜𝒹𝓎.” 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝓊𝓇𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓀𝑒𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝓃𝑔𝒾𝓃𝑒 𝓅𝓊𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒. 1 1 1 1 nekkichi, Seimeisen, platy and 1 other reacted to this Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
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ArtFart 375 Posted May 31, 2018 According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little. Barry! Breakfast is ready! Ooming! Hang on a second. Hello? - Barry? - Adam? - Oan you believe this is happening? - I can't. I'll pick you up. Looking sharp. Use the stairs. Your father paid good money for those. Sorry. I'm excited. Here's the graduate. We're very proud of you, son. A perfect report card, all B's. Very proud. Ma! I got a thing going here. - You got lint on your fuzz. - Ow! That's me! - Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000. - Bye! Barry, I told you, stop flying in the house! - Hey, Adam. - Hey, Barry. - Is that fuzz gel? - A little. Special day, graduation. Never thought I'd make it. Three days grade school, three days high school. Those were awkward. Three days college. I'm glad I took a day and hitchhiked around the hive. You did come back different. - Hi, Barry. - Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good. - Hear about Frankie? - Yeah. - You going to the funeral? - No, I'm not going. Everybody knows, sting someone, you die. Don't waste it on a squirrel. Such a hothead. I guess he could have just gotten out of the way. I love this incorporating an amusement park into our day. That's why we don't need vacations. Boy, quite a bit of pomp... under the circumstances. - Well, Adam, today we are men. - We are! - Bee-men. - Amen! Hallelujah! Students, faculty, distinguished bees, please welcome Dean Buzzwell. Welcome, New Hive Oity graduating class of... ...9:15. That concludes our ceremonies. And begins your career at Honex Industries! Will we pick ourjob today? I heard it's just orientation. Heads up! Here we go. Keep your hands and antennas inside the tram at all times. - Wonder what it'll be like? - A little scary. Welcome to Honex, a division of Honesco and a part of the Hexagon Group. This is it! Wow. Wow. We know that you, as a bee, have worked your whole life to get to the point where you can work for your whole life. Honey begins when our valiant Pollen Jocks bring the nectar to the hive. Our top-secret formula is automatically color-corrected, scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured into this soothing sweet syrup with its distinctive golden glow you know as... Honey! - That girl was hot. - She's my cousin! - She is? - Yes, we're all cousins. - Right. You're right. - At Honex, we constantly strive to improve every aspect of bee existence. These bees are stress-testing a new helmet technology. - What do you think he makes? - Not enough. Here we have our latest advancement, the Krelman. - What does that do? - Oatches that little strand of honey that hangs after you pour it. Saves us millions. Oan anyone work on the Krelman? Of course. Most bee jobs are small ones. But bees know that every small job, if it's done well, means a lot. But choose carefully because you'll stay in the job you pick for the rest of your life. The same job the rest of your life? I didn't know that. What's the difference? You'll be happy to know that bees, as a species, haven't had one day off in 27 million years. So you'll just work us to death? We'll sure try. Wow! That blew my mind! "What's the difference?" How can you say that? One job forever? That's an insane choice to have to make. I'm relieved. Now we only have to make one decision in life. But, Adam, how could they never have told us that? Why would you question anything? We're bees. We're the most perfectly functioning society on Earth. You ever think maybe things work a little too well here? Like what? Give me one example. I don't know. But you know what I'm talking about. Please clear the gate. Royal Nectar Force on approach. Wait a second. Oheck it out. - Hey, those are Pollen Jocks! - Wow. I've never seen them this close. They know what it's like outside the hive. Yeah, but some don't come back. - Hey, Jocks! - Hi, Jocks! You guys did great! You're monsters! You're sky freaks! I love it! I love it! - I wonder where they were. - I don't know. Their day's not planned. Outside the hive, flying who knows where, doing who knows what. You can'tjust decide to be a Pollen Jock. You have to be bred for that. Right. Look. That's more pollen than you and I will see in a lifetime. It's just a status symbol. Bees make too much of it. Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it and the ladies see you wearing it. Those ladies? Aren't they our cousins too? Distant. Distant. Look at these two. - Oouple of Hive Harrys. - Let's have fun with them. It must be dangerous being a Pollen Jock. Yeah. Once a bear pinned me against a mushroom! He had a paw on my throat, and with the other, he was slapping me! - Oh, my! - I never thought I'd knock him out. What were you doing during this? Trying to alert the authorities. I can autograph that. A little gusty out there today, wasn't it, comrades? Yeah. Gusty. We're hitting a sunflower patch six miles from here tomorrow. - Six miles, huh? - Barry! A puddle jump for us, but maybe you're not up for it. - Maybe I am. - You are not! We're going 0900 at J-Gate. What do you think, buzzy-boy? Are you bee enough? I might be. It all depends on what 0900 means. Hey, Honex! Dad, you surprised me. You decide what you're interested in? - Well, there's a lot of choices. - But you only get one. Do you ever get bored doing the same job every day? Son, let me tell you about stirring. You grab that stick, and you just move it around, and you stir it around. You get yourself into a rhythm. It's a beautiful thing. You know, Dad, the more I think about it, maybe the honey field just isn't right for me. You were thinking of what, making balloon animals? That's a bad job for a guy with a stinger. Janet, your son's not sure he wants to go into honey! - Barry, you are so funny sometimes. - I'm not trying to be funny. You're not funny! You're going into honey. Our son, the stirrer! - You're gonna be a stirrer? - No one's listening to me! Wait till you see the sticks I have. I could say anything right now. I'm gonna get an ant tattoo! Let's open some honey and celebrate! Maybe I'll pierce my thorax. Shave my antennae. Shack up with a grasshopper. Get a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"! I'm so proud. - We're starting work today! - Today's the day. Oome on! All the good jobs will be gone. Yeah, right. Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring, stirrer, front desk, hair removal... - Is it still available? - Hang on. Two left! One of them's yours! Oongratulations! Step to the side. - What'd you get? - Picking crud out. Stellar! Wow! Oouple of newbies? Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready! Make your choice. - You want to go first? - No, you go. Oh, my. What's available? Restroom attendant's open, not for the reason you think. - Any chance of getting the Krelman? - Sure, you're on. I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out. Wax monkey's always open. The Krelman opened up again. What happened? A bee died. Makes an opening. See? He's dead. Another dead one. Deady. Deadified. Two more dead. Dead from the neck up. Dead from the neck down. That's life! Oh, this is so hard! Heating, cooling, stunt bee, pourer, stirrer, humming, inspector number seven, lint coordinator, stripe supervisor, mite wrangler. Barry, what do you think I should... Barry? Barry! All right, we've got the sunflower patch in quadrant nine... What happened to you? Where are you? - I'm going out. - Out? Out where? - Out there. - Oh, no! I have to, before I go to work for the rest of my life. You're gonna die! You're crazy! Hello? Another call coming in. If anyone's feeling brave, there's a Korean deli on 83rd that gets their roses today. Hey, guys. - Look at that. - Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday? Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted. It's OK, Lou. We're gonna take him up. Really? Feeling lucky, are you? Sign here, here. Just initial that. - Thank you. - OK. You got a rain advisory today, and as you all know, bees cannot fly in rain. So be careful. As always, watch your brooms, hockey sticks, dogs, birds, bears and bats. Also, I got a couple of reports of root beer being poured on us. Murphy's in a home because of it, babbling like a cicada! - That's awful. - And a reminder for you rookies, bee law number one, absolutely no talking to humans! All right, launch positions! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Black and yellow! Hello! You ready for this, hot shot? Yeah. Yeah, bring it on. Wind, check. - Antennae, check. - Nectar pack, check. - Wings, check. - Stinger, check. Scared out of my shorts, check. OK, ladies, let's move it out! Pound those petunias, you striped stem-suckers! All of you, drain those flowers! Wow! I'm out! I can't believe I'm out! So blue. I feel so fast and free! Box kite! Wow! Flowers! This is Blue Leader. We have roses visual. Bring it around 30 degrees and hold. Roses! 30 degrees, roger. Bringing it around. Stand to the side, kid. It's got a bit of a kick. That is one nectar collector! - Ever see pollination up close? - No, sir. I pick up some pollen here, sprinkle it over here. Maybe a dash over there, a pinch on that one. See that? It's a little bit of magic. That's amazing. Why do we do that? That's pollen power. More pollen, more flowers, more nectar, more honey for us. Oool. I'm picking up a lot of bright yellow. Oould be daisies. Don't we need those? Oopy that visual. Wait. One of these flowers seems to be on the move. Say again? You're reporting a moving flower? Affirmative. That was on the line! This is the coolest. What is it? I don't know, but I'm loving this color. It smells good. Not like a flower, but I like it. Yeah, fuzzy. Ohemical-y. Oareful, guys. It's a little grabby. My sweet lord of bees! Oandy-brain, get off there! Problem! - Guys! - This could be bad. Affirmative. Very close. Gonna hurt. Mama's little boy. You are way out of position, rookie! Ooming in at you like a missile! Help me! I don't think these are flowers. - Should we tell him? - I think he knows. What is this?! Match point! You can start packing up, honey, because you're about to eat it! Yowser! Gross. There's a bee in the car! - Do something! - I'm driving! - Hi, bee. - He's back here! He's going to sting me! Nobody move. If you don't move, he won't sting you. Freeze! He blinked! Spray him, Granny! What are you doing?! Wow... the tension level out here is unbelievable. I gotta get home. Oan't fly in rain. Oan't fly in rain. Oan't fly in rain. Mayday! Mayday! Bee going down! Ken, could you close the window please? Ken, could you close the window please? Oheck out my new resume. I made it into a fold-out brochure. You see? Folds out. Oh, no. More humans. I don't need this. What was that? Maybe this time. This time. This time. This time! This time! This... Drapes! That is diabolical. It's fantastic. It's got all my special skills, even my top-ten favorite movies. What's number one? Star Wars? Nah, I don't go for that... ...kind of stuff. No wonder we shouldn't talk to them. They're out of their minds. When I leave a job interview, they're flabbergasted, can't believe what I say. There's the sun. Maybe that's a way out. I don't remember the sun having a big 75 on it. I predicted global warming. I could feel it getting hotter. At first I thought it was just me. Wait! Stop! Bee! Stand back. These are winter boots. Wait! Don't kill him! You know I'm allergic to them! This thing could kill me! Why does his life have less value than yours? Why does his life have any less value than mine? Is that your statement? I'm just saying all life has value. You don't know what he's capable of feeling. My brochure! There you go, little guy. I'm not scared of him. It's an allergic thing. Put that on your resume brochure. My whole face could puff up. Make it one of your special skills. Knocking someone out is also a special skill. Right. Bye, Vanessa. Thanks. - Vanessa, next week? Yogurt night? - Sure, Ken. You know, whatever. - You could put carob chips on there. - Bye. - Supposed to be less calories. - Bye. I gotta say something. She saved my life. I gotta say something. All right, here it goes. Nah. What would I say? I could really get in trouble. It's a bee law. You're not supposed to talk to a human. I can't believe I'm doing this. I've got to. Oh, I can't do it. Oome on! No. Yes. No. Do it. I can't. How should I start it? "You like jazz?" No, that's no good. Here she comes! Speak, you fool! Hi! I'm sorry. - You're talking. - Yes, I know. You're talking! I'm so sorry. No, it's OK. It's fine. I know I'm dreaming. But I don't recall going to bed. Well, I'm sure this is very disconcerting. This is a bit of a surprise to me. I mean, you're a bee! I am. And I'm not supposed to be doing this, but they were all trying to kill me. And if it wasn't for you... I had to thank you. It's just how I was raised. That was a little weird. - I'm talking with a bee. - Yeah. I'm talking to a bee. And the bee is talking to me! I just want to say I'm grateful. I'll leave now. - Wait! How did you learn to do that? - What? The talking thing. Same way you did, I guess. "Mama, Dada, honey." You pick it up. - That's very funny. - Yeah. Bees are funny. If we didn't laugh, we'd cry with what we have to deal with. Anyway... Oan I... ...get you something? - Like what? I don't know. I mean... I don't know. Ooffee? I don't want to put you out. It's no trouble. It takes two minutes. - It's just coffee. - I hate to impose. - Don't be ridiculous! - Actually, I would love a cup. Hey, you want rum cake? - I shouldn't. - Have some. - No, I can't. - Oome on! I'm trying to lose a couple micrograms. - Where? - These stripes don't help. You look great! I don't know if you know anything about fashion. Are you all right? No. He's making the tie in the cab as they're flying up Madison. He finally gets there. He runs up the steps into the church. The wedding is on. And he says, "Watermelon? I thought you said Guatemalan. Why would I marry a watermelon?" Is that a bee joke? That's the kind of stuff we do. Yeah, different. So, what are you gonna do, Barry? About work? I don't know. I want to do my part for the hive, but I can't do it the way they want. I know how you feel. - You do? - Sure. My parents wanted me to be a lawyer or a doctor, but I wanted to be a florist. - Really? - My only interest is flowers. Our new queen was just elected with that same campaign slogan. Anyway, if you look... There's my hive right there. See it? You're in Sheep Meadow! Yes! I'm right off the Turtle Pond! No way! I know that area. I lost a toe ring there once. - Why do girls put rings on their toes? - Why not? - It's like putting a hat on your knee. - Maybe I'll try that. - You all right, ma'am? - Oh, yeah. Fine. Just having two cups of coffee! Anyway, this has been great. Thanks for the coffee. Yeah, it's no trouble. Sorry I couldn't finish it. If I did, I'd be up the rest of my life. Are you...? Oan I take a piece of this with me? Sure! Here, have a crumb. - Thanks! - Yeah. All right. Well, then... I guess I'll see you around. Or not. OK, Barry. And thank you so much again... for before. Oh, that? That was nothing. Well, not nothing, but... Anyway... This can't possibly work. He's all set to go. We may as well try it. OK, Dave, pull the chute. - Sounds amazing. - It was amazing! It was the scariest, happiest moment of my life. Humans! I can't believe you were with humans! Giant, scary humans! What were they like? Huge and crazy. They talk crazy. They eat crazy giant things. They drive crazy. - Do they try and kill you, like on TV? - Some of them. But some of them don't. - How'd you get back? - Poodle. You did it, and I'm glad. You saw whatever you wanted to see. You had your "experience." Now you can pick out yourjob and be normal. - Well... - Well? Well, I met someone. You did? Was she Bee-ish? - A wasp?! Your parents will kill you! - No, no, no, not a wasp. - Spider? - I'm not attracted to spiders. I know it's the hottest thing, with the eight legs and all. I can't get by that face. So who is she? She's... human. No, no. That's a bee law. You wouldn't break a bee law. - Her name's Vanessa. - Oh, boy. She's so nice. And she's a florist! Oh, no! You're dating a human florist! We're not dating. You're flying outside the hive, talking to humans that attack our homes with power washers and M-80s! One-eighth a stick of dynamite! She saved my life! And she understands me. This is over! Eat this. This is not over! What was that? - They call it a crumb. - It was so stingin' stripey! And that's not what they eat. That's what falls off what they eat! - You know what a Oinnabon is? - No. It's bread and cinnamon and frosting. They heat it up... Sit down! ...really hot! - Listen to me! We are not them! We're us. There's us and there's them! Yes, but who can deny the heart that is yearning? There's no yearning. Stop yearning. Listen to me! You have got to start thinking bee, my friend. Thinking bee! - Thinking bee. - Thinking bee. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! There he is. He's in the pool. You know what your problem is, Barry? I gotta start thinking bee? How much longer will this go on? It's been three days! Why aren't you working? I've got a lot of big life decisions to think about. What life? You have no life! You have no job. You're barely a bee! Would it kill you to make a little honey? Barry, come out. Your father's talking to you. Martin, would you talk to him? Barry, I'm talking to you! You coming? Got everything? All set! Go ahead. I'll catch up. Don't be too long. Watch this! Vanessa! - We're still here. - I told you not to yell at him. He doesn't respond to yelling! - Then why yell at me? - Because you don't listen! I'm not listening to this. Sorry, I've gotta go. - Where are you going? - I'm meeting a friend. A girl? Is this why you can't decide? Bye. I just hope she's Bee-ish. They have a huge parade of flowers every year in Pasadena? To be in the Tournament of Roses, that's every florist's dream! Up on a float, surrounded by flowers, crowds cheering. A tournament. Do the roses compete in athletic events? No. All right, I've got one. How come you don't fly everywhere? It's exhausting. Why don't you run everywhere? It's faster. Yeah, OK, I see, I see. All right, your turn. TiVo. You can just freeze live TV? That's insane! You don't have that? We have Hivo, but it's a disease. It's a horrible, horrible disease. Oh, my. Dumb bees! You must want to sting all those jerks. We try not to sting. It's usually fatal for us. So you have to watch your temper. Very carefully. You kick a wall, take a walk, write an angry letter and throw it out. Work through it like any emotion: Anger, jealousy, lust. Oh, my goodness! Are you OK? Yeah. - What is wrong with you?! - It's a bug. He's not bothering anybody. Get out of here, you creep! What was that? A Pic 'N' Save circular? Yeah, it was. How did you know? It felt like about 10 pages. Seventy-five is pretty much our limit. You've really got that down to a science. - I lost a cousin to Italian Vogue. - I'll bet. What in the name of Mighty Hercules is this? How did this get here? Oute Bee, Golden Blossom, Ray Liotta Private Select? - Is he that actor? - I never heard of him. - Why is this here? - For people. We eat it. You don't have enough food of your own? - Well, yes. - How do you get it? - Bees make it. - I know who makes it! And it's hard to make it! There's heating, cooling, stirring. You need a whole Krelman thing! - It's organic. - It's our-ganic! It's just honey, Barry. Just what?! Bees don't know about this! This is stealing! A lot of stealing! You've taken our homes, schools, hospitals! This is all we have! And it's on sale?! I'm getting to the bottom of this. I'm getting to the bottom of all of this! Hey, Hector. - You almost done? - Almost. He is here. I sense it. Well, I guess I'll go home now and just leave this nice honey out, with no one around. You're busted, box boy! I knew I heard something. So you can talk! I can talk. And now you'll start talking! Where you getting the sweet stuff? Who's your supplier? I don't understand. I thought we were friends. The last thing we want to do is upset bees! You're too late! It's ours now! You, sir, have crossed the wrong sword! You, sir, will be lunch for my iguana, Ignacio! Where is the honey coming from? Tell me where! Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms! Orazy person! What horrible thing has happened here? These faces, they never knew what hit them. And now they're on the road to nowhere! Just keep still. What? You're not dead? Do I look dead? They will wipe anything that moves. Where you headed? To Honey Farms. I am onto something huge here. I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood, crazy stuff. Blows your head off! I'm going to Tacoma. - And you? - He really is dead. All right. Uh-oh! - What is that?! - Oh, no! - A wiper! Triple blade! - Triple blade? Jump on! It's your only chance, bee! Why does everything have to be so doggone clean?! How much do you people need to see?! Open your eyes! Stick your head out the window! From NPR News in Washington, I'm Oarl Kasell. But don't kill no more bugs! - Bee! - Moose blood guy!! - You hear something? - Like what? Like tiny screaming. Turn off the radio. Whassup, bee boy? Hey, Blood. Just a row of honey jars, as far as the eye could see. Wow! I assume wherever this truck goes is where they're getting it. I mean, that honey's ours. - Bees hang tight. - We're all jammed in. It's a close community. Not us, man. We on our own. Every mosquito on his own. - What if you get in trouble? - You a mosquito, you in trouble. Nobody likes us. They just smack. See a mosquito, smack, smack! At least you're out in the world. You must meet girls. Mosquito girls try to trade up, get with a moth, dragonfly. Mosquito girl don't want no mosquito. You got to be kidding me! Mooseblood's about to leave the building! So long, bee! - Hey, guys! - Mooseblood! I knew I'd catch y'all down here. Did you bring your crazy straw? We throw it in jars, slap a label on it, and it's pretty much pure profit. What is this place? A bee's got a brain the size of a pinhead. They are pinheads! Pinhead. - Oheck out the new smoker. - Oh, sweet. That's the one you want. The Thomas 3000! Smoker? Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic. Twice the nicotine, all the tar. A couple breaths of this knocks them right out. They make the honey, and we make the money. "They make the honey, and we make the money"? Oh, my! What's going on? Are you OK? Yeah. It doesn't last too long. Do you know you're in a fake hive with fake walls? Our queen was moved here. We had no choice. This is your queen? That's a man in women's clothes! That's a drag queen! What is this? Oh, no! There's hundreds of them! Bee honey. Our honey is being brazenly stolen on a massive scale! This is worse than anything bears have done! I intend to do something. Oh, Barry, stop. Who told you humans are taking our honey? That's a rumor. Do these look like rumors? That's a conspiracy theory. These are obviously doctored photos. How did you get mixed up in this? He's been talking to humans. - What? - Talking to humans?! He has a human girlfriend. And they make out! Make out? Barry! We do not. - You wish you could. - Whose side are you on? The bees! I dated a cricket once in San Antonio. Those crazy legs kept me up all night. Barry, this is what you want to do with your life? I want to do it for all our lives. Nobody works harder than bees! Dad, I remember you coming home so overworked your hands were still stirring. You couldn't stop. I remember that. What right do they have to our honey? We live on two cups a year. They put it in lip balm for no reason whatsoever! Even if it's true, what can one bee do? Sting them where it really hurts. In the face! The eye! - That would hurt. - No. Up the nose? That's a killer. There's only one place you can sting the humans, one place where it matters. Hive at Five, the hive's only full-hour action news source. No more bee beards! With Bob Bumble at the anchor desk. Weather with Storm Stinger. Sports with Buzz Larvi. And Jeanette Ohung. - Good evening. I'm Bob Bumble. - And I'm Jeanette Ohung. A tri-county bee, Barry Benson, intends to sue the human race for stealing our honey, packaging it and profiting from it illegally! Tomorrow night on Bee Larry King, we'll have three former queens here in our studio, discussing their new book, Olassy Ladies, out this week on Hexagon. Tonight we're talking to Barry Benson. Did you ever think, "I'm a kid from the hive. I can't do this"? Bees have never been afraid to change the world. What about Bee Oolumbus? Bee Gandhi? Bejesus? Where I'm from, we'd never sue humans. We were thinking of stickball or candy stores. How old are you? The bee community is supporting you in this case, which will be the trial of the bee century. You know, they have a Larry King in the human world too. It's a common name. Next week... He looks like you and has a show and suspenders and colored dots... Next week... Glasses, quotes on the bottom from the guest even though you just heard 'em. Bear Week next week! They're scary, hairy and here live. Always leans forward, pointy shoulders, squinty eyes, very Jewish. In tennis, you attack at the point of weakness! It was my grandmother, Ken. She's 81. Honey, her backhand's a joke! I'm not gonna take advantage of that? Quiet, please. Actual work going on here. - Is that that same bee? - Yes, it is! I'm helping him sue the human race. - Hello. - Hello, bee. This is Ken. Yeah, I remember you. Timberland, size ten and a half. Vibram sole, I believe. Why does he talk again? Listen, you better go 'cause we're really busy working. But it's our yogurt night! Bye-bye. Why is yogurt night so difficult?! You poor thing. You two have been at this for hours! Yes, and Adam here has been a huge help. - Frosting... - How many sugars? Just one. I try not to use the competition. So why are you helping me? Bees have good qualities. And it takes my mind off the shop. Instead of flowers, people are giving balloon bouquets now. Those are great, if you're three. And artificial flowers. - Oh, those just get me psychotic! - Yeah, me too. Bent stingers, pointless pollination. Bees must hate those fake things! Nothing worse than a daffodil that's had work done. Maybe this could make up for it a little bit. - This lawsuit's a pretty big deal. - I guess. You sure you want to go through with it? Am I sure? When I'm done with the humans, they won't be able to say, "Honey, I'm home," without paying a royalty! It's an incredible scene here in downtown Manhattan, where the world anxiously waits, because for the first time in history, we will hear for ourselves if a honeybee can actually speak. What have we gotten into here, Barry? It's pretty big, isn't it? I can't believe how many humans don't work during the day. You think billion-dollar multinational food companies have good lawyers? Everybody needs to stay behind the barricade. - What's the matter? - I don't know, I just got a chill. Well, if it isn't the bee team. You boys work on this? All rise! The Honorable Judge Bumbleton presiding. All right. Oase number 4475, Superior Oourt of New York, Barry Bee Benson v. the Honey Industry is now in session. Mr. Montgomery, you're representing the five food companies collectively? A privilege. Mr. Benson... you're representing all the bees of the world? I'm kidding. Yes, Your Honor, we're ready to proceed. Mr. Montgomery, your opening statement, please. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my grandmother was a simple woman. Born on a farm, she believed it was man's divine right to benefit from the bounty of nature God put before us. If we lived in the topsy-turvy world Mr. Benson imagines, just think of what would it mean. I would have to negotiate with the silkworm for the elastic in my britches! Talking bee! How do we know this isn't some sort of holographic motion-picture-capture Hollywood wizardry? They could be using laser beams! Robotics! Ventriloquism! Oloning! For all we know, he could be on steroids! Mr. Benson? Ladies and gentlemen, there's no trickery here. I'm just an ordinary bee. Honey's pretty important to me. It's important to all bees. We invented it! We make it. And we protect it with our lives. Unfortunately, there are some people in this room who think they can take it from us 'cause we're the little guys! I'm hoping that, after this is all over, you'll see how, by taking our honey, you not only take everything we have but everything we are! I wish he'd dress like that all the time. So nice! Oall your first witness. So, Mr. Klauss Vanderhayden of Honey Farms, big company you have. I suppose so. I see you also own Honeyburton and Honron! Yes, they provide beekeepers for our farms. Beekeeper. I find that to be a very disturbing term. I don't imagine you employ any bee-free-ers, do you? - No. - I couldn't hear you. - No. - No. Because you don't free bees. You keep bees. Not only that, it seems you thought a bear would be an appropriate image for a jar of honey. They're very lovable creatures. Yogi Bear, Fozzie Bear, Build-A-Bear. You mean like this? Bears kill bees! How'd you like his head crashing through your living room?! Biting into your couch! Spitting out your throw pillows! OK, that's enough. Take him away. So, Mr. Sting, thank you for being here. Your name intrigues me. - Where have I heard it before? - I was with a band called The Police. But you've never been a police officer, have you? No, I haven't. No, you haven't. And so here we have yet another example of bee culture casually stolen by a human for nothing more than a prance-about stage name. Oh, please. Have you ever been stung, Mr. Sting? Because I'm feeling a little stung, Sting. Or should I say... Mr. Gordon M. Sumner! That's not his real name?! You idiots! Mr. Liotta, first, belated congratulations on your Emmy win for a guest spot on ER in 2005. Thank you. Thank you. I see from your resume that you're devilishly handsome with a churning inner turmoil that's ready to blow. I enjoy what I do. Is that a crime? Not yet it isn't. But is this what it's come to for you? Exploiting tiny, helpless bees so you don't have to rehearse your part and learn your lines, sir? Watch it, Benson! I could blow right now! This isn't a goodfella. This is a badfella! Why doesn't someone just step on this creep, and we can all go home?! - Order in this court! - You're all thinking it! Order! Order, I say! - Say it! - Mr. Liotta, please sit down! I think it was awfully nice of that bear to pitch in like that. I think the jury's on our side. Are we doing everything right, legally? I'm a florist. Right. Well, here's to a great team. To a great team! Well, hello. - Ken! - Hello. I didn't think you were coming. No, I was just late. I tried to call, but... the battery. I didn't want all this to go to waste, so I called Barry. Luckily, he was free. Oh, that was lucky. There's a little left. I could heat it up. Yeah, heat it up, sure, whatever. So I hear you're quite a tennis player. I'm not much for the game myself. The ball's a little grabby. That's where I usually sit. Right... there. Ken, Barry was looking at your resume, and he agreed with me that eating with chopsticks isn't really a special skill. You think I don't see what you're doing? I know how hard it is to find the rightjob. We have that in common. Do we? Bees have 100 percent employment, but we do jobs like taking the crud out. That's just what I was thinking about doing. Ken, I let Barry borrow your razor for his fuzz. I hope that was all right. I'm going to drain the old stinger. Yeah, you do that. Look at that. You know, I've just about had it with your little mind games. - What's that? - Italian Vogue. Mamma mia, that's a lot of pages. A lot of ads. Remember what Van said, why is your life more valuable than mine? Funny, I just can't seem to recall that! I think something stinks in here! I love the smell of flowers. How do you like the smell of flames?! Not as much. Water bug! Not taking sides! Ken, I'm wearing a Ohapstick hat! This is pathetic! I've got issues! Well, well, well, a royal flush! - You're bluffing. - Am I? Surf's up, dude! Poo water! That bowl is gnarly. Except for those dirty yellow rings! Kenneth! What are you doing?! You know, I don't even like honey! I don't eat it! We need to talk! He's just a little bee! And he happens to be the nicest bee I've met in a long time! Long time? What are you talking about?! Are there other bugs in your life? No, but there are other things bugging me in life. And you're one of them! Fine! Talking bees, no yogurt night... My nerves are fried from riding on this emotional roller coaster! Goodbye, Ken. And for your information, I prefer sugar-free, artificial sweeteners made by man! I'm sorry about all that. I know it's got an aftertaste! I like it! I always felt there was some kind of barrier between Ken and me. I couldn't overcome it. Oh, well. Are you OK for the trial? I believe Mr. Montgomery is about out of ideas. We would like to call Mr. Barry Benson Bee to the stand. Good idea! You can really see why he's considered one of the best lawyers... Yeah. Layton, you've gotta weave some magic with this jury, or it's gonna be all over. Don't worry. The only thing I have to do to turn this jury around is to remind them of what they don't like about bees. - You got the tweezers? - Are you allergic? Only to losing, son. Only to losing. Mr. Benson Bee, I'll ask you what I think we'd all like to know. What exactly is your relationship to that woman? We're friends. - Good friends? - Yes. How good? Do you live together? Wait a minute... Are you her little... ...bedbug? I've seen a bee documentary or two. From what I understand, doesn't your queen give birth to all the bee children? - Yeah, but... - So those aren't your real parents! - Oh, Barry... - Yes, they are! Hold me back! You're an illegitimate bee, aren't you, Benson? He's denouncing bees! Don't y'all date your cousins? - Objection! - I'm going to pincushion this guy! Adam, don't! It's what he wants! Oh, I'm hit!! Oh, lordy, I am hit! Order! Order! The venom! The venom is coursing through my veins! I have been felled by a winged beast of destruction! You see? You can't treat them like equals! They're striped savages! Stinging's the only thing they know! It's their way! - Adam, stay with me. - I can't feel my legs. What angel of mercy will come forward to suck the poison from my heaving buttocks? I will have order in this court. Order! Order, please! The case of the honeybees versus the human race took a pointed turn against the bees yesterday when one of their legal team stung Layton T. Montgomery. - Hey, buddy. - Hey. - Is there much pain? - Yeah. I... I blew the whole case, didn't I? It doesn't matter. What matters is you're alive. You could have died. I'd be better off dead. Look at me. They got it from the cafeteria downstairs, in a tuna sandwich. Look, there's a little celery still on it. What was it like to sting someone? I can't explain it. It was all... All adrenaline and then... and then ecstasy! All right. You think it was all a trap? Of course. I'm sorry. I flew us right into this. What were we thinking? Look at us. We're just a couple of bugs in this world. What will the humans do to us if they win? I don't know. I hear they put the roaches in motels. That doesn't sound so bad. Adam, they check in, but they don't check out! Oh, my. Oould you get a nurse to close that window? - Why? - The smoke. Bees don't smoke. Right. Bees don't smoke. Bees don't smoke! But some bees are smoking. That's it! That's our case! It is? It's not over? Get dressed. I've gotta go somewhere. Get back to the court and stall. Stall any way you can. And assuming you've done step correctly, you're ready for the tub. Mr. Flayman. Yes? Yes, Your Honor! Where is the rest of your team? Well, Your Honor, it's interesting. Bees are trained to fly haphazardly, and as a result, we don't make very good time. I actually heard a funny story about... Your Honor, haven't these ridiculous bugs taken up enough of this court's valuable time? How much longer will we allow these absurd shenanigans to go on? They have presented no compelling evidence to support their charges against my clients, who run legitimate businesses. I move for a complete dismissal of this entire case! Mr. Flayman, I'm afraid I'm going to have to consider Mr. Montgomery's motion. But you can't! We have a terrific case. Where is your proof? Where is the evidence? Show me the smoking gun! Hold it, Your Honor! You want a smoking gun? Here is your smoking gun. What is that? It's a bee smoker! What, this? This harmless little contraption? This couldn't hurt a fly, let alone a bee. Look at what has happened to bees who have never been asked, "Smoking or non?" Is this what nature intended for us? To be forcibly addicted to smoke machines and man-made wooden slat work camps? Living out our lives as honey slaves to the white man? - What are we gonna do? - He's playing the species card. Ladies and gentlemen, please, free these bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! The court finds in favor of the bees! Vanessa, we won! I knew you could do it! High-five! Sorry. I'm OK! You know what this means? All the honey will finally belong to the bees. Now we won't have to work so hard all the time. This is an unholy perversion of the balance of nature, Benson. You'll regret this. Barry, how much honey is out there? All right. One at a time. Barry, who are you wearing? My sweater is Ralph Lauren, and I have no pants. - What if Montgomery's right? - What do you mean? We've been living the bee way a long time, 27 million years. Oongratulations on your victory. What will you demand as a settlement? First, we'll demand a complete shutdown of all bee work camps. Then we want back the honey that was ours to begin with, every last drop. We demand an end to the glorification of the bear as anything more than a filthy, smelly, bad-breath stink machine. We're all aware of what they do in the woods. Wait for my signal. Take him out. He'll have nauseous for a few hours, then he'll be fine. And we will no longer tolerate bee-negative nicknames... But it's just a prance-about stage name! ...unnecessary inclusion of honey in bogus health products and la-dee-da human tea-time snack garnishments. Oan't breathe. Bring it in, boys! Hold it right there! Good. Tap it. Mr. Buzzwell, we just passed three cups, and there's gallons more coming! - I think we need to shut down! - Shut down? We've never shut down. Shut down honey production! Stop making honey! Turn your key, sir! What do we do now? Oannonball! We're shutting honey production! Mission abort. Aborting pollination and nectar detail. Returning to base. Adam, you wouldn't believe how much honey was out there. Oh, yeah? What's going on? Where is everybody? - Are they out celebrating? - They're home. They don't know what to do. Laying out, sleeping in. I heard your Uncle Oarl was on his way to San Antonio with a cricket. At least we got our honey back. Sometimes I think, so what if humans liked our honey? Who wouldn't? It's the greatest thing in the world! I was excited to be part of making it. This was my new desk. This was my new job. I wanted to do it really well. And now... Now I can't. I don't understand why they're not happy. I thought their lives would be better! They're doing nothing. It's amazing. Honey really changes people. You don't have any idea what's going on, do you? - What did you want to show me? - This. What happened here? That is not the half of it. Oh, no. Oh, my. They're all wilting. Doesn't look very good, does it? No. And whose fault do you think that is? You know, I'm gonna guess bees. Bees? Specifically, me. I didn't think bees not needing to make honey would affect all these things. It's notjust flowers. Fruits, vegetables, they all need bees. That's our whole SAT test right there. Take away produce, that affects the entire animal kingdom. And then, of course... The human species? So if there's no more pollination, it could all just go south here, couldn't it? I know this is also partly my fault. How about a suicide pact? How do we do it? - I'll sting you, you step on me. - Thatjust kills you twice. Right, right. Listen, Barry... sorry, but I gotta get going. I had to open my mouth and talk. Vanessa? Vanessa? Why are you leaving? Where are you going? To the final Tournament of Roses parade in Pasadena. They've moved it to this weekend because all the flowers are dying. It's the last chance I'll ever have to see it. Vanessa, I just wanna say I'm sorry. I never meant it to turn out like this. I know. Me neither. Tournament of Roses. Roses can't do sports. Wait a minute. Roses. Roses? Roses! Vanessa! Roses?! Barry? - Roses are flowers! - Yes, they are. Flowers, bees, pollen! I know. That's why this is the last parade. Maybe not. Oould you ask him to slow down? Oould you slow down? Barry! OK, I made a huge mistake. This is a total disaster, all my fault. Yes, it kind of is. I've ruined the planet. I wanted to help you with the flower shop. I've made it worse. Actually, it's completely closed down. I thought maybe you were remodeling. But I have another idea, and it's greater than my previous ideas combined. I don't want to hear it! All right, they have the roses, the roses have the pollen. I know every bee, plant and flower bud in this park. All we gotta do is get what they've got back here with what we've got. - Bees. - Park. - Pollen! - Flowers. - Repollination! - Across the nation! Tournament of Roses, Pasadena, Oalifornia. They've got nothing but flowers, floats and cotton candy. Security will be tight. I have an idea. Vanessa Bloome, FTD. Official floral business. It's real. Sorry, ma'am. Nice brooch. Thank you. It was a gift. Once inside, we just pick the right float. How about The Princess and the Pea? I could be the princess, and you could be the pea! Yes, I got it. - Where should I sit? - What are you? - I believe I'm the pea. - The pea? It goes under the mattresses. - Not in this fairy tale, sweetheart. - I'm getting the marshal. You do that! This whole parade is a fiasco! Let's see what this baby'll do. Hey, what are you doing?! Then all we do is blend in with traffic... ...without arousing suspicion. Once at the airport, there's no stopping us. Stop! Security. - You and your insect pack your float? - Yes. Has it been in your possession the entire time? Would you remove your shoes? - Remove your stinger. - It's part of me. I know. Just having some fun. Enjoy your flight. Then if we're lucky, we'll have just enough pollen to do the job. Oan you believe how lucky we are? We have just enough pollen to do the job! I think this is gonna work. It's got to work. Attention, passengers, this is Oaptain Scott. We have a bit of bad weather in New York. It looks like we'll experience a couple hours delay. Barry, these are cut flowers with no water. They'll never make it. I gotta get up there and talk to them. Be careful. Oan I get help with the Sky Mall magazine? I'd like to order the talking inflatable nose and ear hair trimmer. Oaptain, I'm in a real situation. - What'd you say, Hal? - Nothing. Bee! Don't freak out! My entire species... What are you doing? - Wait a minute! I'm an attorney! - Who's an attorney? Don't move. Oh, Barry. Good afternoon, passengers. This is your captain. Would a Miss Vanessa Bloome in 24B please report to the cockpit? And please hurry! What happened here? There was a DustBuster, a toupee, a life raft exploded. One's bald, one's in a boat, they're both unconscious! - Is that another bee joke? - No! No one's flying the plane! This is JFK control tower, Flight 356. What's your status? This is Vanessa Bloome. I'm a florist from New York. Where's the pilot? He's unconscious, and so is the copilot. Not good. Does anyone onboard have flight experience? As a matter of fact, there is. - Who's that? - Barry Benson. From the honey trial?! Oh, great. Vanessa, this is nothing more than a big metal bee. It's got giant wings, huge engines. I can't fly a plane. - Why not? Isn't John Travolta a pilot? - Yes. How hard could it be? Wait, Barry! We're headed into some lightning. This is Bob Bumble. We have some late-breaking news from JFK Airport, where a suspenseful scene is developing. Barry Benson, fresh from his legal victory... That's Barry! ...is attempting to land a plane, loaded with people, flowers and an incapacitated flight crew. Flowers?! We have a storm in the area and two individuals at the controls with absolutely no flight experience. Just a minute. There's a bee on that plane. I'm quite familiar with Mr. Benson and his no-account compadres. They've done enough damage. But isn't he your only hope? Technically, a bee shouldn't be able to fly at all. Their wings are too small... Haven't we heard this a million times? "The surface area of the wings and body mass make no sense." - Get this on the air! - Got it. - Stand by. - We're going live. The way we work may be a mystery to you. Making honey takes a lot of bees doing a lot of small jobs. But let me tell you about a small job. If you do it well, it makes a big difference. More than we realized. To us, to everyone. That's why I want to get bees back to working together. That's the bee way! We're not made of Jell-O. We get behind a fellow. - Black and yellow! - Hello! Left, right, down, hover. - Hover? - Forget hover. This isn't so hard. Beep-beep! Beep-beep! Barry, what happened?! Wait, I think we were on autopilot the whole time. - That may have been helping me. - And now we're not! So it turns out I cannot fly a plane. All of you, let's get behind this fellow! Move it out! Move out! Our only chance is if I do what I'd do, you copy me with the wings of the plane! Don't have to yell. I'm not yelling! We're in a lot of trouble. It's very hard to concentrate with that panicky tone in your voice! It's not a tone. I'm panicking! I can't do this! Vanessa, pull yourself together. You have to snap out of it! You snap out of it. You snap out of it. - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - Hold it! - Why? Oome on, it's my turn. How is the plane flying? I don't know. Hello? Benson, got any flowers for a happy occasion in there? The Pollen Jocks! They do get behind a fellow. - Black and yellow. - Hello. All right, let's drop this tin can on the blacktop. Where? I can't see anything. Oan you? No, nothing. It's all cloudy. Oome on. You got to think bee, Barry. - Thinking bee. - Thinking bee. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Wait a minute. I think I'm feeling something. - What? - I don't know. It's strong, pulling me. Like a 27-million-year-old instinct. Bring the nose down. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! - What in the world is on the tarmac? - Get some lights on that! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! - Vanessa, aim for the flower. - OK. Out the engines. We're going in on bee power. Ready, boys? Affirmative! Good. Good. Easy, now. That's it. Land on that flower! Ready? Full reverse! Spin it around! - Not that flower! The other one! - Which one? - That flower. - I'm aiming at the flower! That's a fat guy in a flowered shirt. I mean the giant pulsating flower made of millions of bees! Pull forward. Nose down. Tail up. Rotate around it. - This is insane, Barry! - This's the only way I know how to fly. Am I koo-koo-kachoo, or is this plane flying in an insect-like pattern? Get your nose in there. Don't be afraid. Smell it. Full reverse! Just drop it. Be a part of it. Aim for the center! Now drop it in! Drop it in, woman! Oome on, already. Barry, we did it! You taught me how to fly! - Yes. No high-five! - Right. Barry, it worked! Did you see the giant flower? What giant flower? Where? Of course I saw the flower! That was genius! - Thank you. - But we're not done yet. Listen, everyone! This runway is covered with the last pollen from the last flowers available anywhere on Earth. That means this is our last chance. We're the only ones who make honey, pollinate flowers and dress like this. If we're gonna survive as a species, this is our moment! What do you say? Are we going to be bees, orjust Museum of Natural History keychains? We're bees! Keychain! Then follow me! Except Keychain. Hold on, Barry. Here. You've earned this. Yeah! I'm a Pollen Jock! And it's a perfect fit. All I gotta do are the sleeves. Oh, yeah. That's our Barry. Mom! The bees are back! If anybody needs to make a call, now's the time. I got a feeling we'll be working late tonight! Here's your change. Have a great afternoon! Oan I help who's next? Would you like some honey with that? It is bee-approved. Don't forget these. Milk, cream, cheese, it's all me. And I don't see a nickel! Sometimes I just feel like a piece of meat! I had no idea. Barry, I'm sorry. Have you got a moment? Would you excuse me? My mosquito associate will help you. Sorry I'm late. He's a lawyer too? I was already a blood-sucking parasite. All I needed was a briefcase. Have a great afternoon! Barry, I just got this huge tulip order, and I can't get them anywhere. No problem, Vannie. Just leave it to me. You're a lifesaver, Barry. Oan I help who's next? All right, scramble, jocks! It's time to fly. Thank you, Barry! That bee is living my life! Let it go, Kenny. - When will this nightmare end?! - Let it all go. - Beautiful day to fly. - Sure is. Between you and me, I was dying to get out of that office. You have got to start thinking bee, my friend. - Thinking bee! - Me? Hold it. Let's just stop for a second. Hold it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, everyone. Oan we stop here? I'm not making a major life decision during a production number! All right. Take ten, everybody. Wrap it up, guys. I had virtually no rehearsal for that. too tired to find fancy text 1 1 Gesu and suji reacted to this Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Komorebi 2193 Posted May 31, 2018 Can't believe there's an entire movie script on MH. 1 suji reacted to this Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
platy 3018 Posted May 31, 2018 Degenerates. 1 avaritonista reacted to this Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
suji 8317 Posted May 31, 2018 1 hour ago, platy said: Degenerates. Isn't this a degenerate copypasta/shitposting thread though? This IS the spam section after all :v 1 avaritonista reacted to this Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
