.
de toda a gente?
Espanta-me e choca-me que muito mais pessoas – mais velhas e mais novas –
não possam usufruir a cidade, não por não quererem, mas porque não
podem ou não conseguem ou, mais grave ainda, porque as suas cidades não
lhes garantem condições.
𝖰𝗎𝖾𝗋𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝗓𝖾𝗋 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝖾́𝗏𝗂𝖺 𝖺 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗑𝗍𝗈: 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾́𝗆 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗈̃𝖾𝗌 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗀𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗂𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗂𝖺: 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗆 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗀𝗈𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋 𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗈̃𝖾𝗌 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗂𝗌, 𝖾́ 𝗌𝗈́ 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗋 𝗈𝗎𝗏𝗂𝗋. 𝖯𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗆 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗀𝗈𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋 𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗋𝗈́𝗇𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗌, 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗏𝗂𝖽𝗈 𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗆 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝖺́.
𝖮 𝗍ı́𝗍𝗎𝗅𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗑𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗎𝗂 𝖻𝗎𝗌𝖼𝖺́-𝗅𝗈 𝖺̀ 𝗆𝗎́𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺 𝖺𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝖽𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗅𝖺 𝖠𝗇𝖺𝖻𝖾𝗅𝖺 𝗇𝗈 𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗅 𝖽𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝖾𝗆 𝟤𝟢𝟢𝟥 – “𝖠 𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝗍𝖾́ 𝗌𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗂𝖺”. 𝖲𝗎𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾, 𝖺 𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖾́ 𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺 𝖺 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾! 𝖨𝗌𝗌𝗈 𝖾́ 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖼̧𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺 𝗆𝗎́𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺 𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝖺́ 𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝖼𝗎𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗅ı́𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗈𝗌, 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖽𝖾 𝖺 𝖢𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗍𝗎𝗂𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝖽𝖺 𝖱𝖾𝗉𝗎́𝖻𝗅𝗂𝖼𝖺 𝖯𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗌𝖺 𝖺𝗈 𝖱𝖾𝗀𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖨𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗇𝗈 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖺𝖼̧𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝖽𝗈 𝗉𝖺ı́𝗌, 𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝖾 𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗀𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝗈 𝗈 𝗍𝗂𝗉𝗈. 𝖠 𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖾́ 𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺 𝖺 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾, 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝖾́𝗆, 𝖾́ 𝗌𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝖺𝗅𝗀𝗎𝗆 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺𝗊𝗎𝗂 𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗂 𝗏𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗎𝗏𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾 𝖽𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗌, 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗌𝖺̃𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖺 𝗏𝖾𝗓 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝗏𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝖼𝗋𝗎𝗓𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗌𝖺𝗌, 𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗌, 𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖺́𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗌, 𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝖿𝖾́𝗌, 𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗌, 𝗇𝖺𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗌, 𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗌 𝖼𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌, 𝗇𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗌, 𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝖺ı́ 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖺. 𝖭𝖺̃𝗈 𝗋𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗓𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺̃𝗈 𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝖽𝖾 𝗌𝗂 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝖾 𝖽𝖺̃𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗈. 𝖲𝗈́ 𝗁𝖺́ 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗈 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖾𝖻𝗂 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺́𝗋𝗂𝗈 𝗇𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗋𝖺 ‘𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗍𝗋𝗈’ 𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾́𝗆 𝗆𝗎𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗓𝖾𝗌, 𝖽𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖿𝖺𝗋𝖼̧𝖺𝖽𝖺, 𝖺𝗅𝗀𝗎𝗆 𝗅𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈, 𝖺𝗅𝗀𝗎𝗆 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝖺 𝖺𝗅𝗀𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖾́ 𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗀𝗋𝖺́𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗈𝗌 𝗇𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗈 𝖽𝗂𝖺-𝖺-𝖽𝗂𝖺.
𝖠 𝗆𝗂𝗆, 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗏𝖾𝗓 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗁𝖺 𝗎𝗆 𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗆𝗈 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝖾𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝖺𝗈 𝖾𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈 – 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝖺 𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾, 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗈 𝗃𝖺́ 𝗆𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗆 –, 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗆𝖾 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺 𝗇𝖺𝖽𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗆 𝗇𝖺 𝗋𝗎𝖺 𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗎𝗌𝗎𝖿𝗋𝗎𝖺𝗆 𝖽𝖺 𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾. 𝖤𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺-𝗆𝖾 𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝖼𝖺-𝗆𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗌 – 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗏𝖺𝗌 – 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗆 𝖿𝖺𝗓𝖾𝗋, 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗆, 𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝖽𝖾𝗆 𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗆 𝗈𝗎, 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺, 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗅𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗀𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗂𝖼̧𝗈̃𝖾𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗎𝗌𝗎𝖿𝗋𝗎𝗂𝗋 𝖽𝖺 𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗈 𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗀𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖼̧𝖺 𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗅𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺̃𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗈́𝗑𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗌 – 𝗌𝖾𝗃𝖺𝗆 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌, 𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗈𝗌 𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗆𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗆 – 𝗅𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗏𝖺̃𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗂𝗉𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝖾 𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗌𝗈̃𝖾𝗌 𝖾𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝖺̀𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝖺𝗋𝗂𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗈̃𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖺 𝗌𝗎𝖺 𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖺. 𝖤𝗑𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗎𝖺𝖼̧𝗈̃𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾, 𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗌𝖺̃𝗈 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺̃𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗆𝗈, 𝗉𝖾𝗅𝗈 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗋𝖺̂𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖺 𝖾𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝖺𝗈 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗁𝗈𝗌, 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗈-𝗈𝗌 𝗃𝖺́ 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺́𝗏𝖾𝗂𝗌:
– 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗁𝗈𝗌/𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗌𝖺𝖾𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖺̃𝖾𝗌 𝗃𝖺́ 𝗆𝗎𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗌𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖺 𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗆𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗆 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖾́𝗆 𝗈𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗋, 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝖾̂𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗌𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗈𝖾𝗆, 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺 𝗏𝗂𝗏𝖺 𝖺 𝟤𝟢𝟢 𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗋 𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗀𝖺 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗏𝖺 𝖾𝗋𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗋… 𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝖿𝗂𝗆, 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺 𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗋 𝖾 𝗈 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖺 𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗇𝖺 𝗌𝗎𝖺 𝗌𝖺𝗎́𝖽𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗅? 𝖮 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖾́ 𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗈 𝗋𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗈 – 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾, 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗈, 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗎 𝖺 𝗂𝗀𝗇𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗋 -, 𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝖿𝗂𝗆, 𝖽𝖾 𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗋 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗃𝖺́ 𝗍𝖾𝗆 𝖺𝗅𝗀𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾?
– 𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺𝗍𝖾́ 𝗉𝗈𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖺𝗋 𝖺 𝗏𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗇𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖺𝗌, 𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝖾̂𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗈 𝖾𝗆 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗋 𝖺 𝗇𝗈𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝖺̃𝗈 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗋𝗈 𝖾𝗑𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗀𝗆𝖺́𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗈. 𝖠 𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝗎́𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺 𝖽𝖺 𝖠𝗇𝖺𝖻𝖾𝗅𝖺 𝖽𝗂𝗓𝗂𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 “𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖺 𝗇𝗈𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖽𝖺̃𝗈 𝗎𝗆 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗅𝗁𝗈 𝖺̀ 𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾…”; 𝖽𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗈 𝖾́ 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾… 𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗆𝗎𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖺 𝗇𝗈𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝖺̃𝗈 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗎𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗌, 𝗌𝖺̃𝗈 𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝖿ı́𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗌, 𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗆 𝗏𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗁𝗈/𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗆 𝖾́ 𝖼𝗎𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗋/𝖺 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗅 𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝖻𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺̀ 𝗇𝗈𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝖺́ 𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝖿ı́𝖼𝗂𝗅 𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗀𝗎𝗆 𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗈 𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗀𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗂𝗌𝖺 𝖺𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗋… 𝖾́ 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖾́ 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝖺𝗅𝗀𝗎𝗆 𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖺𝗆 𝗊𝗎𝖾 “𝖺𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗁𝖺̃ 𝖽𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗁𝖺̃, 𝗃𝖺́ 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝖺́ 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗋𝗈 𝖽𝗂𝖺”, 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖽𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝖺́ 𝗉𝗈𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖺́ 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗋 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗏𝗂𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗁𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗓 𝖻𝗈𝗆 𝖽𝗂𝖺, 𝗅𝖺́ 𝗉𝗈𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖺̃𝗈 𝗏𝗂𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝗈 𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗈 𝖽𝗈𝗆𝗂𝖼𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖺́𝗋𝗂𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝖽𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝖽𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗅𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺̃𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗎𝖽𝖺𝗋 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖽𝖾 𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗆 𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝗈 𝖽𝗂𝖺 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗋.
– 𝖾 𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗓𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗆 𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗏𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗋, 𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾 𝗏𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗆 𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗌𝗈𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝟥º 𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌 – 𝖺𝗍𝖾́ 𝗉𝗈𝖽𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗋 𝗎𝗆𝟣º 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖺 𝖺𝗋𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗍𝗈́𝗇𝗂𝖼𝖺 – 𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾, 𝖺𝗉𝖾𝗌𝖺𝗋 𝖽𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗆 𝖾 𝖽𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝗓𝖾𝗆 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗅𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝖼𝗎𝗌𝗍𝖺 𝖾 𝗍𝖾̂𝗆 𝖺𝗅𝗀𝗎𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗈 – 𝖺𝖻𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗎𝗍𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗀ı́𝗍𝗂𝗆𝗈, 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗈 – 𝖽𝖾 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗀𝗎𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝗎𝖻𝗂𝗋 𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗌𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗌? 𝖠𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗂𝖺 𝖺 𝖽𝗂𝗓𝖾𝗋 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗆 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗎𝖺𝖼̧𝗈̃𝖾𝗌 𝗇𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝖺𝗋𝗂𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾 𝗉𝖺ı́𝗌. 𝖢𝗈𝗇𝗁𝖾𝖼̧𝗈 𝗏𝖺́𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗎𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈, 𝗌𝗈𝖻𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝖺 𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝗈 𝖯𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗈. 𝖤 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗈 𝗌𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗇𝖺 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗎𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈? 𝖤𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝖽𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺̃𝗈 𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖺́𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗌 𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗈 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗋 𝗇𝗈 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗆𝖺́𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗈 𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝖺 𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖼𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗆 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗆𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗋-𝗅𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗈́𝗇𝗈𝗆𝖺 𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗅𝗂𝖻𝖾𝗋𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖽𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖺, 𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺̃𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗆 𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝗎 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈, 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗈 𝗉𝗎𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗆 𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗆𝖻𝖾́𝗆 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗍𝖾̂𝗆 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝖽𝖺𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗋𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖺 𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾, 𝗇𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗈𝗋𝗂𝖺 𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗁𝖾𝖼̧𝗈, 𝗉𝖾𝗅𝗈 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗌, 𝗇𝖾𝗆 𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗆 𝖿𝖺𝗓𝖾𝗋, 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖾́ 𝖺 𝗌𝗎𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖺, 𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝖾̂𝗆 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗌, 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗎ı́𝗋𝖺𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗆𝗎𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗌𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖼̧𝗈 𝖾 𝖺̀𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗂𝗌, 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝗂𝖺 𝖾𝗎, 𝗍𝖾̂𝗆 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗈. 𝖣𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗈: 𝗁𝖺́ 𝗎𝗆 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗆𝖺 𝖺𝗊𝗎𝗂? 𝖲𝗂𝗆! 𝖤́ 𝖿𝖺́𝖼𝗂𝗅 𝖽𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗏𝖾𝗋? 𝖭𝖺̃𝗈! 𝖵𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖺 𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖺 𝖺𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗁𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗅ı́𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗑𝗂𝗆𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖾𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗌 𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗈𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗎𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗈́𝗑𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗌, 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗂𝗊𝗎𝖾, 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗆 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗅𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖺 𝗆𝖾𝗅𝗁𝗈𝗋 𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗓𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾𝗌? 𝖲𝗂𝗆!
𝖢𝗈𝗆𝖾𝖼̧𝗈 𝖺 𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝖾̂𝗆 𝗏𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗁𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗆 𝖯𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗀𝖺𝗅 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝖾𝗑𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗆. 𝖯𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾́𝖼𝗂𝖾 𝖽𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝖾𝗋-𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗆 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖾́ 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖾, 𝗃𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗆, 𝗌𝖺𝗎𝖽𝖺́𝗏𝖾𝗅, 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾, 𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗉𝗈𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗈́𝗆𝗂𝖼𝗈, 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺 𝖺 𝗋𝗎𝖺 𝖽𝖺 𝖢𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗍𝗎𝗂𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈, 𝗇𝗈 𝖯𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗈, 𝗌𝖾𝗆 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖻𝗋𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝖺́𝗋𝗏𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝖾 𝗎𝗆 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖺𝖼̧𝗈 𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗋-𝗌𝖾. 𝖰𝗎𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝖽𝖾 𝖼𝗂𝗋𝖼𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺 𝖺 𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗍𝖺́𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗌 𝗉𝗎́𝖻𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗈𝗌 𝖺̀ 𝗌𝗎𝖺 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗂𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈, 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝗆 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖺́𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗌 𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝖺́𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗈𝗌, 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗌𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝖽𝖺𝗋 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗅𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖻𝖾𝖻𝖾́𝗌, 𝗇𝖾𝗆 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖺. 𝖰𝗎𝖾 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗌𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗉𝗎́𝖻𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗈𝖻𝗏𝗂𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗏𝖾̂ 𝖻𝖾𝗆, 𝗈𝗎𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗆, 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝗆 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝖾𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗎𝗓𝗂𝗋 𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗈 𝖼𝗂𝗋𝖼𝗎𝗅𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝗎 𝗉𝗋𝗈́𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗈 𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝖺, 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺 𝖺 𝗀𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖺, 𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖽𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖼̧𝖺 𝖺̀ 𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗋 𝖾𝗆 𝖼𝗂𝗆𝖺 𝖽𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗂𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗂𝗋 “𝗇𝗎𝗆 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗁𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝗓𝖾𝗋 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗂𝗌𝖺”, 𝖻𝗎𝗓𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗋 𝖿𝖾𝗋𝗈𝗓𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝖺𝗅𝗀𝗎𝖾́𝗆 𝖽𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖺 𝗎𝗆 𝗉𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝖺𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗋 𝖺 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺 𝗈𝗎 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗋𝗈 𝖺𝗅𝗀𝗎𝖾́𝗆 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖺 𝗂𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗀𝖾𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝗆𝖺́𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖺 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖽𝖾. 𝖤𝗌𝗍𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝖺̂𝗇𝖾𝗈 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖾 𝖾 𝗏𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝗆 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗈́𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗌, 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗌𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗉𝖺 𝖾 𝖾́ 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗌𝖺́𝗏𝖾𝗅. 𝖤́ 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝖽𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝗈𝗌 𝗈𝖻𝗌𝗍𝖺́𝖼𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺 𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝗈𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾, 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗈 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗆𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗈, 𝖺𝗈𝗌 𝗏𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝖺̃𝗈 𝖽𝖺 𝖱𝗎𝖺 𝖠𝗅𝗏𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝖢𝖺𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗆 𝖺 𝖼𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝖻𝗋𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗇𝖺𝗌 𝖺́𝗋𝗏𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖼̧𝖺𝗆, 𝖾 𝖼𝗎𝗃𝖺 𝗅𝗈́𝗀𝗂𝖼𝖺 𝖾́ 𝖽𝗂𝖿ı́𝖼𝗂𝗅 𝖽𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗇𝗈́𝗌, 𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗈𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖺 𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾, 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗆𝖻𝖾́𝗆 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝖿𝗈𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗓𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖾𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖺̃𝗈 𝗆𝗈𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗌, 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗆 𝗌𝗎𝖻𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗍𝗎ı́𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺̃𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖽𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗇𝗈 𝗁𝖺́ 𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝗉𝖺ı́𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖾 𝖽𝖺 𝖤𝗎𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖺. 𝖤𝗎, 𝖼𝖺́ 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗂𝗆, 𝖺𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗁𝗂𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗆 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗇𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝖾𝗑𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖺𝗆 𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖺𝗆 𝖺 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝖾𝗑𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗌 𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗀𝗎𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗈 𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝗂𝗋𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝖺 𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗌, 𝗃𝖺́ 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖾𝖻ı́𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝗆𝖾𝗅𝗁𝗈𝗋 𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝖾 𝗃𝖺́ 𝗇𝖾𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗆𝖺́𝗏𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖽𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗆 𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗃𝖺́ 𝖾𝗑𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖺𝗆 𝖾 𝗇𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗀𝗎𝗂𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗈 𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗈 𝗇𝖺𝗌 𝗎́𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗓𝖾𝗇𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗌.
𝖠𝗊𝗎𝗂, 𝖽𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗏𝗈 𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝗈𝗆 𝗂𝗋𝗈́𝗇𝗂𝖼𝗈, 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝖼̧𝖺𝗆 𝖺 ‘𝖢𝗂𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝖽𝖺 𝖡𝖺𝗂𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖺’ 𝖽𝖺 𝖠𝖽𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗇𝖺 𝖢𝖺𝗅𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗁𝗈𝗍𝗈, 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗏𝖺𝗂 𝖻𝖾𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈: 𝖺 𝖻𝖺𝗂𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖺 𝖾́ 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝖺, 𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝖺𝗆𝖻𝖾́𝗆 𝖾́ 𝖺 𝗎́𝗇𝗂𝖼𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖾́ 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝗂𝗍𝖺 𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾, 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗈, 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝖾𝗑𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾.
𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗌, 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗈 𝗆𝖺́𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍ı́𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗏𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝗋: 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗍𝗎𝖽𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝗆, 𝖾 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗈 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗆, 𝗅𝖺́ 𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝗇𝖺 𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗁𝗂𝖼𝖾. 𝖤 𝗅𝖺́ 𝗏𝗈𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗏𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗂, 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗈 𝗁𝗈𝗃𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝖼̧𝗈 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗃𝖺́ 𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗆 𝖺 𝗈𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗇𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝖾 𝗇𝖺𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺́ 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗇𝗈́𝗌, 𝖺 𝖽𝗂𝗓𝖾𝗋 𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗆 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗆 𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗏𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗋, 𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗎𝗌 𝖺𝖻𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗎𝗍𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗇𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺́𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝖾̂𝗆 𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗀𝗎𝖾́𝗆 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾 ‘𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗏𝖺 𝖻𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗈’ 𝖾, 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗈, 𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖺𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈 𝖺𝗈𝗌 𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗌 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝖿𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗆, 𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗂𝗈𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗆 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗈𝗌 𝖾 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗆 𝖼𝗂𝗋𝖼𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝖾𝗀𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖼̧𝖺, 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗌.
𝖯𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝖾𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗁𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗋, 𝖾́ 𝖺𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗅𝗈 𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗌𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗆𝖺 ‘𝖾𝖽𝗎𝖼𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗈 𝖾𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈’, 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗋 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝖺𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗓𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗆 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗅, 𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝖺𝗆𝖻𝖾́𝗆 𝗍𝖾𝗆 𝖽𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗍𝖺́𝗋𝗂𝖺. 𝖯𝗈𝗋𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗁𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗆, 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝖾̂𝗆 𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝖺̀ 𝗌𝗎𝖺 𝖾𝗑𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾̂𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖺 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗂𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗏𝗎𝗅𝗇𝖾𝗋𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗆𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾, 𝖽𝖾 𝗎𝗆 𝖽𝗂𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗈 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗋𝗈, 𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗌, 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗉𝖺𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝖽𝖺, 𝗌𝖾𝗃𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗏𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗆 𝖿ı́𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺 𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗅… 𝖾 𝖺ı́ 𝗅𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗌𝖺̃𝗈 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖺𝖼̧𝗈𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗅𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗏𝗈𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗌 𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝗇𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝖿𝗈𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗓𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗋 𝖾𝗆 𝖺𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖾́ 𝗂𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗋 𝗇𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝖾 𝗇𝗈 𝖿𝗎𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗈, 𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗌.
𝖤́ 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗁𝖺́ 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝖺̀ 𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾, 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗆 𝖽𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗋 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗁𝖺 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗌.
𝖢𝗈𝗆𝗈 𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗎 𝖩𝗈𝗌𝖾́ 𝖬𝖺́𝗋𝗂𝗈 𝖡𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗈, 𝗇𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝗎 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺́𝗏𝖾𝗅 𝖥𝖬𝖨, 𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗋𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗉𝖾𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺 𝖼𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗋 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗌 𝖾𝗆 𝗏𝖾𝗓 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗌, 𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗊𝗎𝗂 𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖺 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗍𝗈 𝖾 𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗏𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖺 𝗈𝗎𝗏𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝗈 𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝗑𝗍𝗈, 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗀𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖺 𝖾 𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈, 𝖺𝗍𝖾́ 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗍𝖾́ 𝖺𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗆 𝖽𝖺 𝗌𝗎𝖺 𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖺, 𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗍𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗈 𝖾 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖺 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖺.