07/08/2023

AFONSO DE MELO

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Se o Papa Francisco gosta de futebol, o Vaticano tem uma seleção que joga a brincar e perde a sério...

𝖭𝗈𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗁𝗈𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗌, 𝗈𝗌 𝖯𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗎𝗇𝖼𝖺 𝗌𝖺𝗂́𝖺𝗆 𝖽𝖾 𝖱𝗈𝗆𝖺. 𝖳𝗂𝗇𝗁𝖺𝗆 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗓𝖾𝗋. 𝖠𝗇𝖽𝖺𝗏𝖺𝗆 𝖾𝗆𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗅𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝖾𝗆 𝗀𝗈𝗅𝗉𝖾𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗌, 𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗁𝖺𝗆 𝖺𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝖽𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗏𝗂́𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖺, 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖺𝗏𝖺𝗆 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖺𝗋-𝗌𝖾 𝗎𝗇𝗌 𝖺𝗈𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗌, 𝖺 𝖽𝗂𝗍𝖺 𝖲𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺 𝖲𝖾́ 𝖽𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗁𝖺 𝗇𝖺𝖽𝖺 𝖾 𝖺𝗍𝖾́ 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗓𝖺𝗏𝖺𝗆 𝖺̀ 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖻𝗋𝖺 𝖽𝖺 𝖢𝗋𝗎𝗓 𝖽𝖾 𝖲𝖺̃𝗈 𝖯𝖾𝖽𝗋𝗈. 𝖣𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗎 𝗎𝗆 𝖯𝖺𝗉𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗀𝗈𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗏𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝖾𝗆 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖺. 𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗆𝖺𝗏𝖺-𝗌𝖾 𝖦𝗂𝗈𝗏𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗂 𝖡𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺 𝖤𝗇𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗈 𝖠𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗈 𝖬𝖺𝗋𝗂𝖺 𝖬𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗂 𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝖿𝗈𝗂 𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝖾𝗅𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖼𝗂́𝗅𝗂𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗂́𝖼𝗂𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗎-𝗌𝖾 𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝖾𝗋 𝖯𝖺𝗎𝗅𝗈 𝖵𝖨, 𝖺𝗅𝗀𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖽𝖺́ 𝗆𝗎𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗃𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗏𝖾 𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝖻𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝖾. 𝖮 𝖻𝗈𝗆 𝖦𝗂𝗈𝗏𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗂 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝗂𝗎 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗈𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗎𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗆 𝗎𝗇𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗀𝗎𝗂𝖼̧𝗈𝗌𝗈𝗌, 𝗌𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝗇𝖺𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗅𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖺̃𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗈𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗎𝗌 𝗌𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗁𝗈𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗆𝖾𝗅𝗁𝗈𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝖺𝗂́𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝖽’𝖮 𝖥𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗋𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝖮𝗓, 𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖺𝗍𝗈𝗎 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗁𝖺𝗋 𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗈, 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗏𝖾𝗓 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗍𝖾𝗓𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖾𝗋𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗈, 𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝖺𝖻𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗈 𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗅𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗎𝗆 𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝖽𝖾 𝖭𝗂𝖼𝗈𝗅𝖺𝗎 𝖢𝗈𝗉𝖾́𝗋𝗇𝗂𝖼𝗈 𝖿𝖾𝗓 𝗋𝖺𝖻𝗂𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝖻𝖾𝖼̧𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗂𝗍𝖺 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝖺𝖽𝖺 𝖺̀ 𝖲𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺 𝖬𝖺𝖽𝗋𝖾 𝖨𝗀𝗋𝖾𝗃𝖺. 𝖥𝗈𝗂 𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗂𝗋𝗈 𝖯𝖺𝗉𝖺 𝖺 𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖺𝗋 𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝗏𝗂𝖺̃𝗈 𝖾 𝗏𝗂𝗏𝖺 𝗈 𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗁𝗈! 𝖴𝗆 𝖽𝗂𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗏𝖾𝗎 𝗏𝗂𝗋 𝖺 𝖯𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗀𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝗈 𝗌𝗋. 𝖠𝗇𝗍𝗈́𝗇𝗂𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝖲𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺 𝖢𝗈𝗆𝖻𝖺 𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖺𝗏𝖺 𝖾𝗌𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗋𝖽𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗈 𝖵𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗇𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝖺 𝗂𝗇𝗏𝖺𝗌𝖺̃𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝖦𝗈𝖺 - 𝖺 𝖱𝗈𝗆𝖺 𝖽𝗈 𝖮𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 - 𝗉𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗅𝖽𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖺 𝖴𝗇𝗂𝖺̃𝗈 𝖨𝗇𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗇𝖺 𝖾 𝖺𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗈𝗎-𝗅𝗁𝖾 𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗉𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝖻𝗈𝖾𝗍𝖺 𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗀𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝖺 𝗂𝗋 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗈 𝖺𝖾𝗋𝗈́𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝖬𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗂́ 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝖥𝖺́𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗅𝗎𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗁𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝖺 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝖺 𝗅𝗎𝗓 𝖽𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗉𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗅. 𝖯𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺𝗉𝖾𝗌𝖺𝗋 𝖽𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖿𝖾𝗂𝗍𝖺, 𝖲𝗎𝖺 𝖲𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗎𝗌𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝖻𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗅𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝖽𝖺 𝗌𝗎𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗉𝖺𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖽𝗈𝖺𝗋 𝖾 𝖺𝗍𝖾́ 𝗍𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗈 𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗁𝗈 𝖠𝗇𝗍𝗈́𝗇𝗂𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗈 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾 𝖽𝖾 𝗅𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗓𝖾𝗋, 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖺, 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗂𝗋𝗂𝖺, 𝗇𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗌𝗈, 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖺́-𝗅𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝖲𝗎𝖺 𝖤𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾. 𝖨𝗌𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗎𝖽𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗎-𝗌𝖾 𝖾𝗆 𝟣𝟫𝟨𝟩, 𝗆𝖾̂𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗈, 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖺𝖼̧𝗈̃𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝟧𝟢 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗂𝖼̧𝗈̃𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖺 𝖭𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖺 𝖲𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗈𝗋𝖺 𝖺𝗈𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝖾̂𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗁𝗈𝗌, 𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺 𝗉𝗎𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗈́𝗋𝗂𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝖾𝗋𝖺 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗂𝖽𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗈 𝗇𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗀𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾 𝖾 𝖺𝗍𝖾́ 𝗇𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝖺̀𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗂𝗌, 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅, 𝖼𝗁𝗎𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗂 𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗈. 𝖱𝗈𝖽𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝖾́𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝖺 𝖢𝗈𝗏𝖺 𝖽𝖺 𝖨𝗋𝗂𝖺, 𝖯𝖺𝗎𝗅𝗈 𝖵𝖨 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗏𝖾𝗎 𝗍𝖺𝗆𝖻𝖾́𝗆 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗈̃𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗁𝖺𝗌. 𝖣𝖺́ 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗏𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗀𝗎𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗋 𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖾́ 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗂𝗈 𝖼𝖺́ 𝖿𝖺𝗓𝖾𝗋, 𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝖿𝗂𝗆, 𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗈𝗎 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗁𝗂𝖺 𝖽𝖺 𝗂𝗋𝗆𝖺̃ 𝖫𝗎́𝖼𝗂𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾, 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗈 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝗌𝖺𝖻𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗌, 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝖺𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖺 𝖺 𝖻𝗈𝖼𝖺 𝗌𝖾 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝖼𝖾𝗃𝖺𝗋, 𝖾 𝗌𝗈́ 𝗌𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗀𝗇𝗈𝗎 𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗈 𝗈𝗎𝗏𝗂𝖽𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝖩𝗈𝖺̃𝗈 𝖯𝖺𝗎𝗅𝗈 𝖨𝖨 𝗆𝗎𝗂𝗍𝗈𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗌.

𝖲𝖾 𝖯𝖺𝗎𝗅𝗈 𝖵𝖨 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝖺 𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝗈 𝖤𝗑𝗆𝗈. 𝖯𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝖽𝗈 𝖢𝗈𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗅𝗁𝗈, 𝗍𝖺𝗆𝖻𝖾́𝗆 𝗆𝗎𝗂𝗍𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗇𝗈́𝗌 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗓𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗂𝗅𝗁𝖾́𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝖺 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖺 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾 𝖯𝖺𝗉𝖺 𝖥𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗉𝗈̂𝗌 𝖫𝗂𝗌𝖻𝗈𝖺 𝗇𝗎𝗆 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗈, 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝗎𝖺𝗌 𝖾 𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗂𝖽𝖺𝗌, 𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗎 𝖺 𝖠𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗂𝖽𝖺 𝖽𝖺 𝖫𝗂𝖻𝖾𝗋𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗈𝗌 𝗃𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝗈 𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗉𝗎𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗆 𝖼𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗋 𝖾𝗆 𝖯𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗀𝖺𝗅 𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗈 𝗈𝗌 𝗏𝗂𝖺𝗃𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝗈 𝖢𝗈𝗆𝖻𝗈𝗂𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝖲𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗂𝖼̧𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝖡𝖾𝗋𝗍𝗈𝗅𝗍 𝖡𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗁𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗏𝖺𝗆 𝗇𝖺 𝖠𝗅𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗁𝖺. 𝖣𝗂𝗓-𝗌𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗁𝖺́ 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗂́ 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗁𝗈̃𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝖼̧𝗈𝗌 𝗆𝖾𝗂𝗈 𝖾𝗇𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗊𝗎𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗆 𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋, 𝗇𝖾𝗆 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗃𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗅𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝗈𝗅𝗁𝗈, 𝗈 𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗁𝗈 𝗏𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖽𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗈 𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗌 𝗏𝗂𝖽𝗋𝖺𝖼̧𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗆𝗈́𝗏𝖾𝗅, 𝖾 𝖾𝗎, 𝖽𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾, 𝖺𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗂𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗃𝖺́ 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗅𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗋 𝗃𝖺́ 𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗁𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖺 𝖾 𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝖠́𝗀𝗎𝖾𝖽𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖾́ 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝖺 𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾 𝗇𝗎𝗇𝖼𝖺 𝗇𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗎𝗆 𝖯𝖺𝗉𝖺 𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖺𝗋𝖺́ 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗈𝗌 𝗉𝖾́𝗌. 𝖣𝖺𝗊𝗎𝗂 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗈𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝖻𝗈𝖾𝗍𝖺. 𝖲𝗎𝖺 𝖨𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗏𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗁𝖺𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖽𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝗋 𝖺𝗍𝖾́ 𝖺𝗈𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗁𝗈 𝖾 𝗈𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗎 𝖺𝗈𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗋𝗈𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗏𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖻𝗋𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗓𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗆 𝗇𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗎𝗆. 𝖯𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗈 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝗃𝖺, 𝗇𝖺 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾, 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂́𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗆𝖺 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖼𝗁𝖺, 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗈 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝗂𝖺 𝗈 𝖠𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝖽𝗈 𝖽𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗈 𝖤𝖼̧𝖺, 𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖾̂ 𝗏𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖺𝗋 𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝗀𝗋𝖾𝗃𝖺 𝖾𝗆 𝗂𝗀𝗋𝖾𝗃𝖺 𝖺 𝗍𝗋𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗋𝗎𝗓𝖾𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗉𝖾́𝗓𝗂𝗈𝗌. 𝖡𝖾𝗆 𝖺̀ 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗌𝖺, 𝖿𝖺𝗓-𝗌𝖾 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺, 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾-𝗌𝖾 𝗎𝗆 𝗉𝖺̃𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗂𝖼̧𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗀𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾 𝗅𝖺́ 𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖺𝖽𝗋𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗂𝗆 𝖾́ 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗋𝗂𝖺 𝖾 𝗍𝗎𝖽𝗈 𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖿𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖺.

𝖮 𝖯𝖺𝗉𝖺 𝖥𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗂𝗎 𝗇𝗈 𝗀𝗈𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗂𝗍𝗈𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗀𝗈𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋 𝖽𝖾 𝖿𝗎𝗍𝖾𝖻𝗈𝗅 𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗉𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝖲𝖺𝗇 𝖫𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗓𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝖠𝗅𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗋𝗈, 𝗅𝖺́ 𝗇𝗎𝗆 𝖻𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗋𝗈 𝖽𝖺 𝗌𝗎𝖺 𝖡𝗎𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝖠𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾 𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗀𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗆 𝖺̀ 𝗇𝖺𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗇𝖼̧𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖽𝖾 𝖩𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖾 𝖬𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗈 𝖡𝖾𝗋𝗀𝗈𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗈. 𝖯𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗎 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗈𝖼𝗎𝗉𝖺𝗋-𝗌𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝖺 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾́𝗋𝗂𝖺 𝖽𝖺 𝖠𝗆𝖾́𝗋𝗂𝖼𝖺 𝖫𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝖺 𝖾 𝗏𝖺𝗂 𝖼𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝖺 𝗌𝗎𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗏𝗋𝖺 𝖺𝗈 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗆𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗂𝗑𝖺 𝖫𝗂𝗌𝖻𝗈𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝖺 𝖢𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝗈 𝖬𝖾́𝗑𝗂𝖼𝗈. 𝖩𝖺́ 𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝖾𝗌𝗊𝗎𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗆𝖻𝖾́𝗆 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗏𝖾 𝗎𝗆 𝖯𝖺𝗉𝖺 𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖺-𝗋𝖾𝖽𝖾𝗌, 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗅 𝖩𝗈́𝗓𝖾𝖿 𝖶𝗈𝗃𝗍𝗒𝗅𝖺, 𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝖩𝗈𝖺̃𝗈 𝖯𝖺𝗎𝗅𝗈 𝖨𝖨, 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗇𝖺 𝗌𝗎𝖺 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝖺̂𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗓𝗂𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺̃𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗃𝗈𝗀𝖺𝗋 𝗇𝖺 𝖾𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗉𝖺 𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝖽𝖾𝗎𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖺 𝗈𝗌 𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺̃𝗈𝗌 𝗇𝖺𝗌 𝗋𝗎𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝖶𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗍𝖾́ 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗈𝗌 𝗇𝖺𝗓𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗆 𝖼𝖺𝖻𝗈 𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗉𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝖽𝖾𝗎𝗌. 𝖩𝗈́𝗌𝖾𝖿 𝖾𝗋𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝗈́𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗈 𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝖿𝗈𝗎-𝗌𝖾. 𝖢𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝗈𝗎 𝖺 𝗀𝗈𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋 𝖽𝖾 𝖿𝗎𝗍𝖾𝖻𝗈𝗅. 𝖤, 𝗇𝖺 𝗌𝗎𝖺 𝖿𝗎𝗇𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗂́𝖼𝗂𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗀𝗈𝗋𝗈𝗎 𝖺 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗂𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝗃𝗈𝗀𝗈 𝗇𝖺 𝖲𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺 𝖲𝖾́. 𝖬𝗎𝗂𝗍𝖺 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝖽𝖾 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗌𝖺𝖻𝖾𝗋, 𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝗈 𝖵𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝗆 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖾𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝗇𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 - 𝖲𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗓𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖽𝗂 𝖢𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗂𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖺 𝖢𝗂𝗍𝖺́ 𝖽𝗂 𝖵𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗈. 𝖢𝗈𝗆 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗉𝗎𝗅𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝖼𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝟫𝟢𝟢 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗌, 𝗈𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝗌𝖺̃𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗋𝗎𝗍𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝖺 𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗈 𝖾 𝖺 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗈̃𝖾𝗌: 𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖺𝗌, 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝗂𝗋𝗈𝗌, 𝖿𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺́𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗌 𝖾, 𝗌𝗈𝖻𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝖽𝗈, 𝗇𝖺 𝖦𝗎𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖺 𝖲𝗎𝗂́𝖼̧𝖺, 𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝗂𝗑𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗋 𝗎𝗆 𝖻𝗈𝖼𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗈́𝗋𝗂𝗈. 𝖤𝗇𝖿𝗂𝗆… 𝖿𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾 𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾 𝗎𝗆 𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝗈 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝗈 𝖯𝖺𝗉𝖺 𝖥𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗈, 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗂𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗅𝖺́ 𝗍𝖾𝗆 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝗉𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾. 𝖠 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖺 𝗏𝖾𝗓 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖾𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝖵𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗈 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗆 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝗉𝗈 𝖿𝗈𝗂 𝖾𝗆 𝟣𝟫𝟪𝟧, 𝖽𝖾𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗎𝗆 𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗃𝗈𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂́𝖺𝖼𝗈𝗌. 𝖵𝗂𝗍𝗈́𝗋𝗂𝖺 𝖺𝖻𝖾𝗇𝖼̧𝗈𝖺𝖽𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝟥-𝟢. 𝖣𝖺𝗂́ 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝖼𝖺́ 𝖺 𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗂 𝖽𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗎𝗍𝖺: 𝗍𝗋𝖾̂𝗌 𝗃𝗈𝗀𝗈𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖺 𝗈 𝖯𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗂𝗉𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝖬𝗈́𝗇𝖺𝖼𝗈 (𝗎𝗆 𝖾𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖾̂𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖺𝗌), 𝗎𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖺 𝖲𝖺̃𝗈 𝖬𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗈 (𝟢-𝟢), 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗏𝗂𝗍𝗈́𝗋𝗂𝖺 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗌𝖺 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝗈𝗌 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗇𝗂𝖾𝗋𝗂 𝖽𝖾 𝖱𝗈𝗆𝖺 (𝟫-𝟣), 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖺 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗂𝖾𝖽𝗈𝗌𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗈 𝖡𝗈𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖺 𝖬𝗈̈𝗇𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖺𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗁 (𝟦-𝟤𝟣), 𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗋𝖺 𝖺̀ 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺 𝖽𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝖺 (𝟣-𝟫). 𝖭𝖺𝖽𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌. 𝖭𝖺̃𝗈 𝗌𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗓𝖾𝗋 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗃𝖺 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖾́𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺. 𝖬𝖺𝗌 𝖾́ 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗆 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗆 𝗇𝖺 𝖲𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺 𝖲𝖾́ 𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗆𝗇𝗂𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗎𝗅𝖺𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗋𝗎𝗆. 𝖣𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾, 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗏𝖾𝗓, 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗀𝗎𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗆 𝖺 𝖯𝗂𝗈 𝖷𝖨 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖺𝗆 𝗇𝗈 𝖵𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗈. 𝖤 𝖾𝗅𝖾, 𝗌𝖾𝗆 𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖺𝗋 𝗆𝗎𝗂𝗍𝗈, 𝖺𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗆𝗈𝗎: «𝖢𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗍𝖺𝖽𝖾».
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* Jornalista, escritor
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IN "RENASCER DO SOL" - 06/08/23 .

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