𝖭𝗈𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗂𝗋𝗈𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖺 𝖽𝖾́𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝟣𝟫𝟫𝟢, 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗈𝖻𝗋𝗂 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗎𝗆 𝗀𝗋𝗎𝗉𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗈𝗌 𝗎𝗆 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗇𝖺 𝖹𝖺𝗆𝖻𝗎𝗃𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖺 𝖽𝗈 𝖬𝖺𝗋 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗎𝗀𝖺𝗏𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗈𝗌 𝖺 𝗎𝗆 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼̧𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝗂𝗍ı́𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗈 𝖾𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺, 𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗆𝗂𝗍𝗂𝖺 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗈 𝗆𝖺́𝗑𝗂𝗆𝗈 𝖺 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖽𝗂𝖺. 𝖥𝗈𝗋𝖺 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗂𝗉𝖺𝗅, 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝗂𝖺 𝗅𝗎𝗓, 𝗇𝖾𝗆 𝖺́𝗀𝗎𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖺𝖽𝖺, 𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝖺̀ 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖺 𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗎𝗆 𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗈 𝖾 𝗎𝗆 𝖿𝗈𝗀𝖺̃𝗈 𝖺 𝗀𝖺́𝗌 𝖾𝗋𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗏𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗓𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗌𝗍𝖺 𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗃𝖺𝗇𝖺 𝖺 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖺̃𝗈. 𝖠𝗅𝖾́𝗆 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗈, 𝖺𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗅𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗋𝖺 𝗀𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗏𝗂𝗋ı́𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝖺 𝖺𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗋, 𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌, 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗋 𝖽𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗈: 𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖺𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾. 𝖬𝖺𝗌 𝗃𝖺́ 𝗅𝖺́ 𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗌.
𝖭𝖺𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗅𝖺 𝖺𝗅𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺, 𝗇𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝖾𝗋𝖺 𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝖾́-𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗅 𝖲𝗎𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾, 𝗌𝖾𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗂𝗌, 𝗇𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗆𝗈́𝗏𝖾𝗂𝗌, 𝖺 𝖹𝖺𝗆𝖻𝗎𝗃𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖺 𝖽𝗈 𝖬𝖺𝗋 𝖾𝗋𝖺 𝗍𝗂𝖽𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖽𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎́𝗀𝗂𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗂𝗌. 𝖭𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾́𝖼𝗂𝖾 𝖽𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝗎𝗋𝖻𝖺𝗇𝗈, 𝖼𝗎𝗃𝖺 𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗀𝖾𝗆 𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖾́𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺, 𝖽𝗂𝗓𝗂𝖺-𝗌𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖩𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖾 𝖯𝖺𝗅𝗆𝖺 𝗍𝖺𝗆𝖻𝖾́𝗆 𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗁𝖺 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝖺𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗅𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾. 𝖭𝖺̃𝗈 𝖾𝗋𝖺 𝗎𝗆 𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗋, 𝖾𝗋𝖺 “𝖮” 𝖩𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖾 𝖯𝖺𝗅𝗆𝖺, 𝖺𝗅𝗀𝗎𝖾́𝗆 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝗇𝖺𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗅𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝗎𝗉𝗈, 𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗆𝗎𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝗃𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗌, 𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗋𝖺́𝗏𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝗁𝖺́ 𝗆𝗎𝗂𝗍𝗈. 𝖭𝖺̃𝗈 𝗌𝗈́ 𝗉𝖾𝗅𝖺 𝗆𝗎́𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺, 𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝖺𝗆𝖻𝖾́𝗆 𝗉𝖾𝗅𝖺 𝖺𝗎𝗋𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾́𝗋𝗂𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗏𝖺, 𝖾𝗆 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝖾, 𝗌𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗎𝖻𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗂𝗇𝖺𝖽𝗈, 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗀𝗂𝖺 𝗇𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗈 𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖺́𝗋𝗂𝗈 𝖾𝗇𝗏𝗈𝗅𝗍𝗈 𝗇𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗇𝗎𝗏𝖾𝗆 𝖽𝖾 𝖿𝗎𝗆𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝖼𝗂𝗀𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗈, 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗄𝗒 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗍𝗈, 𝖾𝗇𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖺𝗏𝖺 𝖽𝗈 𝗉𝗂𝖺𝗇𝗈 𝗆𝖾𝗅𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗏𝖺 𝗈𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗃𝖺́ 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗁𝖾𝖼ı́𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗋 𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗁𝗈𝗃𝖾 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺̃𝗈 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝗇𝖺 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖺 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝗈́𝗋𝗂𝖺. 𝖴𝗆 𝖽𝗂𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗀𝗎𝗇𝗍𝖺́𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝖺̀ 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗉𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗍𝖺́𝗋𝗂𝖺, 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗈𝗋𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗃𝖺́ 𝖺𝗏𝖺𝗇𝖼̧𝖺𝖽𝖺, 𝗌𝖾 𝖾𝗋𝖺 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗆𝗈 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖩𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖾 𝖯𝖺𝗅𝗆𝖺 𝖺𝗅𝗂 𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗁𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗇𝗈𝗂𝗍𝖺𝖽𝗈. 𝖦𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗎 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗌𝖺𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗆 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝖺́𝗏𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺́𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖾𝗋𝖺 𝗎𝗆 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗈, 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗈𝗎-𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗏𝗋𝖺 𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗎 𝗈 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖺 𝗌𝖺́𝖻𝗂𝖺: “𝖠𝗁, 𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗈 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺. 𝖤𝗎 𝖽𝖾𝗂𝗑𝗈-𝗈𝗌 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋”.
𝖭𝗎𝗇𝖼𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗀𝗎𝗂𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗋 𝖺 𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗈́𝗋𝗂𝖺. 𝖤 𝗇𝗎𝗇𝖼𝖺 𝖩𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖾 𝖯𝖺𝗅𝗆𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗎 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗈 𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗋. 𝖠 𝖤𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺 𝖽𝗈 𝖬𝖺𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗂 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗃𝗈𝗂𝖺 𝗇𝖺 𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗈𝗋𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝗎𝗆 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗏𝗂𝗋𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗆ı́𝗅𝗂𝖺. 𝖮 𝖡𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗋𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝖠𝗆𝗈𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗂 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖾 𝗃𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗌 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖽𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗅𝗈𝖼𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾, 𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗋𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗆 𝖽𝗈 𝖠𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗃𝗈, 𝗌𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗆 𝗇𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗑𝖾𝗌. 𝖮 𝖣𝖺́-𝗆𝖾 𝖫𝗎𝗆𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗎-𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗈 𝖾 𝖺𝗊𝗎𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗎-𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝖺 𝗏𝗈𝗓 𝖾𝗆 𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗌. 𝖩𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖾 𝖯𝖺𝗅𝗆𝖺 𝖿𝗈𝗂, 𝖾́ 𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝖺́ 𝗌𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗋𝖾 𝗎𝗆 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝗀𝗎𝗋𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖺 𝗏𝖾𝗓 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗎𝖺 𝗈𝖻𝗋𝖺, 𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺 𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝖾𝗆 𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖺 – 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗎𝗆 𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗈𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗋𝖺̃𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖺 𝗆𝗎́𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺 𝖯𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗀𝖺𝗅, 𝖯𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗀𝖺𝗅, 𝖾𝗆 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺 𝗎𝗆 𝗉𝖺ı́𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗏𝖺𝗂 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝖺 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝗈́𝗋𝗂𝖺, 𝗎𝗆 𝖯𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗀𝖺𝗅 𝗊𝗎𝖾 “𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝖽𝖾 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗈, 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗆 𝖺 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗁𝖺 𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺”.
𝖤𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝖻𝖾𝗎, 𝗏𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖺 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗋 𝗈 𝗏ı́𝖽𝖾𝗈 𝖽𝖺 𝗋𝖺́𝖽𝗂𝗈 𝖢𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗉𝗈́𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝟧𝟢 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝖯𝖺𝗅𝗆𝖺, 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝖾𝗓𝖾𝗇𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗌, 𝖽𝖾 𝖲𝖾́𝗋𝗀𝗂𝗈 𝖦𝗈𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗁𝗈 𝖺 𝖬𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗓𝖺, 𝖽𝖾 𝖱𝗎𝗂 𝖵𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗈 𝖺 𝖡𝖺́𝗋𝖻𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝖳𝗂𝗇𝗈𝖼𝗈, 𝖽𝖾 𝖬𝖺𝖿𝖺𝗅𝖽𝖺 𝖵𝖾𝗂𝗀𝖺 𝖺 𝖲𝖺𝗅𝗏𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗋 𝖲𝗈𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗅, 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗌, 𝗇𝗎𝗆 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗎𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗈𝗋. 𝖤𝗌𝗌𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗉𝖺𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝖺𝗆𝖻𝖾́𝗆 𝗌𝖾 𝗏𝗂𝗎 𝗇𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗃𝖾𝗍𝗈 𝖯𝖺𝗅𝗆𝖺'𝗌 𝖦𝖺𝗇𝗀, 𝗇𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗁𝗂𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝗆𝗎́𝗌𝗂𝖼𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝖱𝖺́𝖽𝗂𝗈 𝖬𝖺𝖼𝖺𝗎 𝖾 𝖷𝗎𝗍𝗈𝗌 𝖾 𝖯𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗉𝖾́𝗌. 𝖤 𝗂𝗋𝖺́, 𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾, 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖺𝗋 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗋-𝗌𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗎𝗂𝗍𝗈𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗌, 𝖺𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖾́𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗎́𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗆 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗀𝖾𝗋𝖺𝖼̧𝗈̃𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾 “𝖯𝖺𝗅𝗆𝖺’𝗌 𝖦𝖺𝗇𝗀” 𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗀𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖾́ 𝖯𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗀𝖺𝗅.
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