𝖀𝖇𝖔𝖆𝖙: 𝖂𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝕰𝖕𝖎𝖈 𝕭𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖘 𝕿𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖎𝖇𝖑𝖊 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞
— 𝕽𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖊𝖜 𝖔𝖋 𝖆𝖓 𝕴𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖕𝖎𝖊𝖈𝖊 𝕿𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝕷𝖊𝖙𝖘 𝕻𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖊𝖗𝖘 “𝕭𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊” 𝕾𝖚𝖇𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖘

𝖀𝖇𝖔𝖆𝖙 𝖎𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖒𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖑𝖞 𝖆 𝖌𝖆𝖒𝖊—𝖎𝖙 𝖎𝖘 𝖆 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖑𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖔 𝕯𝖆𝖘 𝕭𝖔𝖔𝖙, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖆 𝖗𝖊𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖐𝖆𝖇𝖑𝖊 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖕𝖎𝖈 𝖘𝖊𝖓𝖘𝖎𝖇𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖎𝖑𝖒 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖔 𝖆 𝖑𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖉 𝖊𝖝𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊. 𝕳𝖊𝖗𝖊, 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖓𝖔 𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗 𝖆 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗, 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖉 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖑 𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖑𝖊. 𝕰𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞 𝖉𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊, 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞 𝖈𝖑𝖎𝖈𝖐 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖊𝖝𝖊𝖈𝖚𝖙𝖊, 𝖉𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖑𝖞 𝖘𝖚𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖑𝖊 𝖕𝖚𝖑𝖘𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖔𝖟𝖊𝖓𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖑𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖘 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖊𝖊𝖕.

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕮𝖗𝖊𝖜: 𝕱𝖗𝖔𝖒 “𝕺𝖇𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖛𝖊𝖉” 𝖙𝖔 “𝕽𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖊𝖉 𝕬𝖕𝖔𝖓”
𝕴𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖎𝖑𝖒, 𝖜𝖊 𝖆𝖉𝖒𝖎𝖗𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖜’𝖘 𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖚𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊; 𝖎𝖓 𝖀𝖇𝖔𝖆𝖙, 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖒𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖘𝖚𝖕𝖕𝖔𝖗𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖚𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖘. 𝕰𝖆𝖈𝖍 𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖜 𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖍𝖆𝖘 𝖆 𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊, 𝖘𝖐𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖘, 𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖉, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖆. 𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖎𝖗 “𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊” 𝖎𝖘 𝖓𝖔 𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖈𝖗𝖎𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖉, 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖆 𝖉𝖞𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖈 𝖔𝖚𝖙𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙: 𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖆𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖌𝖓 𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖞, 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖔𝖙𝖊 𝖔𝖗 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖔𝖑𝖊 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖑𝖞, 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖈𝖆𝖓 𝖒𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖊𝖋𝖋𝖎𝖈𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖞 𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖑𝖆𝖘𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖊𝖕𝖙𝖍 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖌𝖊𝖘; 𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖜𝖎𝖘𝖊, 𝖕𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖈 𝖘𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖘 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖌𝖚𝖊. 𝕿𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖌𝖓 𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖓𝖘 “𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊” 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖔 𝖆 𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖈𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖒𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖊𝖋𝖚𝖑𝖑𝖞 𝖈𝖚𝖑𝖙𝖎𝖛𝖆𝖙𝖊, 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖆𝖈𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖑𝖞 𝖆𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖊𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖞, 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖙𝖊 𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖉𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖎𝖇𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞 𝖔𝖋 𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖗𝖞 𝖒𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗.

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕮𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕮𝖍𝖎𝖊𝖋 𝕰𝖓𝖌𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖊𝖗: 𝕱𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝕽𝖔𝖑𝖊-𝕻𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖎𝖓𝖌
𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖆𝖕𝖆𝖇𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞 𝖔𝖋 𝖊𝖓𝖌𝖎𝖓𝖊 𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖙𝖍 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖆 𝖈𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖉. 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖘𝖎𝖒𝖚𝖑𝖙𝖆𝖓𝖊𝖔𝖚𝖘𝖑𝖞 𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖒 𝕮𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖆𝖕𝖆𝖇𝖑𝖊 𝕮𝖍𝖎𝖊𝖋 𝕰𝖓𝖌𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖎𝖑𝖒, 𝖞𝖊𝖙 𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖚𝖗𝖊𝖘 𝖋𝖆𝖗 𝖇𝖊𝖞𝖔𝖓𝖉 𝖇𝖔𝖙𝖍. 𝕬𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 “𝕮𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓,” 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖘𝖊𝖘, 𝖆𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖘𝖘 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖇𝖆𝖙 𝖘𝖎𝖙𝖚𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖎𝖘𝖘𝖚𝖊 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘—𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖕𝖔𝖘𝖚𝖗𝖊 𝖒𝖊𝖆𝖓𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖑𝖎𝖋𝖊-𝖆𝖓𝖉-𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍 𝖉𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖙𝖊 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊. 𝕬𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 “𝕮𝖍𝖎𝖊𝖋 𝕰𝖓𝖌𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖊𝖗,” 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖒𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖑𝖞 𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖎𝖙𝖔𝖗 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞 𝖘𝖚𝖇𝖘𝖞𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖒 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖔𝖆𝖙—𝖇𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖞 𝖑𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖑𝖘, 𝖆𝖎𝖗 𝖕𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖞, 𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖕𝖊𝖉𝖔 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖘, 𝖍𝖚𝖑𝖑 𝖉𝖆𝖒𝖆𝖌𝖊. 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖌𝖆𝖒𝖊’𝖘 𝖘𝖚𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖇 𝖘𝖎𝖒𝖚𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖘𝖊 𝖘𝖞𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖒𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊𝖘 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖑𝖞 𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 “𝖈𝖆𝖕𝖆𝖇𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞” 𝖎𝖓 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞 𝖉𝖊𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖘 𝖎𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖘𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖈𝖚𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖒𝖚𝖑𝖙𝖎𝖙𝖆𝖘𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌. 𝕿𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖉𝖚𝖆𝖑 𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖊-𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖈𝖊𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖋𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖒 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖚𝖗𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖎𝖑𝖒’𝖘 𝖙𝖜𝖔 𝖐𝖊𝖞 𝖋𝖎𝖌𝖚𝖗𝖊𝖘 𝖉𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖑𝖞 𝖚𝖕𝖔𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖊𝖗’𝖘 𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘.

𝕰𝖕𝖔𝖈𝖍-𝕸𝖆𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝕾𝖎𝖌𝖓𝖎𝖋𝖎𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊: 𝕱𝖗𝖔𝖒 “𝕾𝖊𝖊𝖎𝖓𝖌” 𝖙𝖔 “𝕷𝖎𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖌” 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕺𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖑
𝕴𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖎𝖑𝖒 𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖆𝖚𝖉𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖚𝖇𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖗’𝖘 𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖑, 𝖀𝖇𝖔𝖆𝖙 𝖑𝖊𝖙𝖘 𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖊𝖝𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞 𝖉𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖑. 𝕿𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝖎𝖙𝖘 “𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓” 𝖒𝖊𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖈, 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖌𝖆𝖒𝖊 𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖋𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖑𝖞 𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖗𝖍𝖞𝖙𝖍𝖒 𝖔𝖋 𝖘𝖚𝖇𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖋𝖆𝖗𝖊—𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌 𝖜𝖆𝖎𝖙𝖘 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖜𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖒𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖔𝖗. 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖑𝖊 𝖙𝖊𝖉𝖎𝖔𝖚𝖘 𝖉𝖆𝖎𝖑𝖞 𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖉𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖒 𝖈𝖗𝖚𝖎𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖌 (𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖋𝖔𝖔𝖉, 𝖗𝖊𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖎𝖕𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙), 𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖑𝖊 𝖘𝖚𝖉𝖉𝖊𝖓 𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖗 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖘 𝖔𝖗 𝖉𝖊𝖕𝖙𝖍 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖌𝖊 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖆𝖈𝖐𝖘 𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖑𝖞 𝖕𝖑𝖚𝖓𝖌𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖕𝖆𝖈𝖊 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖔 𝖇𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖘 𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓. 𝕿𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖊𝖝𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖐 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖘𝖙 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊𝖘 𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖊 𝖛𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖓 𝖆𝖓𝖞 𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖗𝖞: 𝖙𝖍𝖊 “𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖔𝖎𝖘𝖒” 𝖔𝖋 𝖘𝖚𝖇𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖎𝖘 𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖌𝖊𝖑𝖞 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖕𝖔𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝖔𝖋 𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖔𝖓𝖞, 𝖆𝖓𝖝𝖎𝖊𝖙𝖞, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖊𝖝𝖙𝖗𝖊𝖒𝖊 𝖊𝖝𝖍𝖆𝖚𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓.

𝕰𝖑𝖊𝖛𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝕬𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖙𝖔 𝕯𝖊𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖑: 𝕱𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝕬𝖚𝖉𝖎𝖔𝖛𝖎𝖘𝖚𝖆𝖑 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞 𝖙𝖔 𝕾𝖞𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖒𝖎𝖈 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞
𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖎𝖑𝖒 𝖇𝖚𝖎𝖑𝖉𝖘 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖒 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝖒𝖎𝖈𝖊𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖘 𝖘𝖊𝖙𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉; 𝖀𝖇𝖔𝖆𝖙 𝖎𝖓𝖏𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖒 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖔 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝖘𝖞𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖒. 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖚𝖑𝖑 𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖐𝖘 𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖚𝖋𝖊 𝖆𝖙 𝖉𝖎𝖋𝖋𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖉𝖊𝖕𝖙𝖍𝖘; 𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖜𝖒𝖊𝖓 𝖌𝖊𝖙 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖘𝖙𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘; 𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖕𝖊𝖉𝖔 𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖙𝖘 𝖗𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖎𝖗𝖊 𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖈𝖚𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖉, 𝖉𝖊𝖕𝖙𝖍, 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖌𝖊𝖙’𝖘 𝖘𝖆𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖕𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖓. 𝕸𝖔𝖗𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖆𝖇𝖑𝖊 𝖎𝖘 𝖎𝖙𝖘 “𝖓𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝖊𝖓𝖌𝖎𝖓𝖊”—𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖔𝖒𝖑𝖞 𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖜 𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖐𝖌𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖘, 𝖉𝖞𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖞 𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝖑𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖊𝖆𝖈𝖍 𝖕𝖆𝖙𝖗𝖔𝖑 𝖆 𝖚𝖓𝖎𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖑𝖞 𝖍𝖚𝖒𝖆𝖓 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞. 𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖘𝖊 𝖉𝖊𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖑𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖓𝖔 𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗 𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖐𝖉𝖗𝖔𝖕; 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖕𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖈𝖆𝖑 𝖎𝖘𝖘𝖚𝖊𝖘 𝖔𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖈𝖐𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙, 𝖙𝖔𝖌𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖚𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆 𝖘𝖚𝖇𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖊 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖑𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖇𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖍𝖚𝖗𝖙𝖘.

𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖈𝖑𝖚𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓: 𝕬 𝕲𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙 𝕸𝖊𝖉𝖎𝖚𝖒 𝕿𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓
𝖀𝖇𝖔𝖆𝖙 𝖘𝖚𝖈𝖈𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖋𝖚𝖑𝖑𝖞 𝖆𝖈𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖕𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖍𝖊𝖘 𝖆 𝖒𝖆𝖌𝖓𝖎𝖋𝖎𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖈 𝖋𝖎𝖑𝖒 𝖙𝖔 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝖒𝖊𝖉𝖎𝖚𝖒. 𝕴𝖙 𝖎𝖓𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝕯𝖆𝖘 𝕭𝖔𝖔𝖙—𝖗𝖊𝖋𝖑𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖔𝖓 𝖜𝖆𝖗, 𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖗𝖞 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊, 𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖔 𝖍𝖚𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖙𝖞 𝖎𝖓 𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖚𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖔𝖕𝖍𝖔𝖇𝖎𝖈 𝖊𝖝𝖙𝖗𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖘—𝖆𝖓𝖉, 𝖑𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝖓𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖌𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖘, 𝖉𝖊𝖊𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖘𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖘 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖊𝖗’𝖘 𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖟𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓. 𝕴𝖙 𝖎𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖔𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝖆𝖓 𝖔𝖚𝖙𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖘𝖚𝖇𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖊 𝖘𝖎𝖒𝖚𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗, 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖆𝖑𝖘𝖔 𝖆 “𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖆𝖇𝖑𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖗 𝖘𝖚𝖗𝖛𝖎𝖛𝖆𝖑 𝖉𝖔𝖈𝖚𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖞.” 𝖂𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖋𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖞 𝖇𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖜 𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖙𝖔 𝖇𝖆𝖘𝖊 𝖆𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖚𝖓𝖙𝖔𝖑𝖉 𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖆𝖑𝖘, 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖎𝖗 𝖗𝖊𝖚𝖓𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖑𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖋𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖊𝖘, 𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖌𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖎𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖆 𝖌𝖆𝖒𝖊 𝖛𝖎𝖈𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞, 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖆 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖔𝖋 𝖍𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞, 𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖕𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖎𝖇𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖑𝖎𝖋𝖊.

𝕯𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝕴𝕴: 𝕬 𝕮𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖈𝖑𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝕴𝖗𝖔𝖓 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕬𝖘𝖍𝖊𝖘

𝕎𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖗𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖊𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖕𝖔𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖍𝖊𝖉 𝖒𝖆𝖎𝖑, 𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖉𝖔𝖜𝖘 𝖌𝖓𝖆𝖜 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖊𝖑 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖓𝖊,
𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖗𝖔𝖆𝖉 𝖚𝖓𝖋𝖔𝖑𝖉𝖘—𝖆𝖘 𝕰𝖈𝖈𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖘 𝖌𝖗𝖔𝖆𝖓𝖊𝖉: “𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖎𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖓𝖊𝖜 𝖇𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖚𝖓.”
𝔜𝖊𝖙 𝖊𝖆𝖈𝖍 𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖕 𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖗𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖓𝖎𝖈𝖑𝖊’𝖘 𝖉𝖊𝖊𝖕 𝖇𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘, 𝖊𝖆𝖈𝖍 𝖇𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍 𝖎𝖘 𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖜𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗𝖓𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖈𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖆 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖓𝖊.

𝕬𝖒 𝕴 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖒𝖎𝖙𝖍’𝖘 𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖘𝖔𝖓, 𝖔𝖗 𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙’𝖘 𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖊𝖋? 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖑𝖆𝖉𝖊 𝖉𝖔𝖙𝖍 𝖘𝖎𝖌𝖍: “𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖎𝖘 𝖉𝖊𝖈𝖊𝖎𝖙𝖋𝖚𝖑 𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘.”
𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖗𝖚𝖓𝖐𝖆𝖗𝖉’𝖘 𝖊𝖞𝖊𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖜𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖇𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖉 𝖌𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖋, 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖔𝖗𝖉’𝖘 𝖘𝖎𝖑𝖐 𝖍𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖘 𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖇𝖘 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖐𝖑𝖞 𝖘𝖆𝖞—
“𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖎𝖘 𝖉𝖊𝖈𝖊𝖎𝖙𝖋𝖚𝖑 𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖑𝖞 𝖜𝖎𝖈𝖐𝖊𝖉.” 𝕾𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖇𝖚𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖈𝖍𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙, 𝖘𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖘.

𝕹𝖔 𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝖎𝖘 𝖑𝖊𝖉𝖌𝖊𝖗’𝖘 𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖗𝖞, 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖆𝖓 𝖆𝖑𝖙𝖆𝖗 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖆 𝖉𝖎𝖊;
𝕯𝖔 𝕴 𝖊𝖝𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉, 𝖔𝖗 𝖕𝖔𝖎𝖘𝖔𝖓-𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖉 𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖑? 𝕯𝖊𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖒𝖞’𝖘 𝖊𝖈𝖍𝖔: “𝕴 𝖍𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖙 𝖇𝖊𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖑𝖎𝖋𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍.”
𝕰𝖆𝖈𝖍 𝖈𝖍𝖔𝖎𝖈𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖛𝖎𝖑 𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖋 𝖎𝖘 𝖜𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙; 𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖌𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖋𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖔𝖗 𝖆 𝖈𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖋-𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙.

𝕴𝖓 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖇𝖆𝖙, 𝖒𝖚𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖊 𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖟𝖊𝖘 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖞’𝖘 𝖈𝖔𝖘𝖙—𝖆𝖘 𝕻𝖘𝖆𝖑𝖒𝖘 𝖔𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖉: “𝕿𝖊𝖆𝖈𝖍 𝖚𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝖓𝖚𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖜𝖊𝖑𝖑 𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖉𝖆𝖞𝖘.”
𝕴𝖓 𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖙𝖍, 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝖇𝖆𝖗𝖓-𝖘𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖘 𝖘𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖘𝖙; 𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖆𝖑𝖘 𝖋𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗, 𝖗𝖔𝖙 𝖎𝖓 𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖉𝖔𝖜’𝖘 𝖌𝖆𝖟𝖊.
𝕬𝖓𝖉 𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖊𝖆𝖈𝖍 𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖈𝖑𝖚𝖉𝖊𝖘, 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖎𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖎𝖘 𝖆 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖋𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖑—𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖆𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖙𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊 𝖆 𝖘𝖆𝖈𝖗𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙, 𝖔𝖗 𝖉𝖚𝖊𝖑 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕬𝖇𝖞𝖘𝖘𝖆𝖑.

𝕿𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖎𝖘 𝖓𝖔 𝖌𝖆𝖒𝖊—𝖎𝖙 𝖎𝖘 𝖆 𝕸𝖎𝖉𝖉𝖑𝖊 𝕬𝖌𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝖋𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖍, 𝖆 𝖘𝖈𝖗𝖎𝖕𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖌𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖒𝖚𝖉,
𝕰𝖆𝖈𝖍 𝖘𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖔𝖗 𝖑𝖔𝖆𝖉 𝖆 𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖆𝖑 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝕵𝖔𝖇’𝖘 𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖙𝖊𝖘𝖙: “𝕳𝖔𝖑𝖉 𝖋𝖆𝖘𝖙 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖌𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖞, 𝖔𝖗 𝖇𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖒’𝖘 𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖋𝖔𝖔𝖉?”
𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖌𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖘 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖐, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖜𝖆𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖑𝖎𝖋𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖊𝖒𝖘 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖆 𝖋𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖉 𝖋𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖈𝖔 𝖔𝖓 𝖆 𝖜𝖆𝖑𝖑,
𝕺𝖓𝖊 𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖊 𝖗𝖊𝖒𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘, 𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗-𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊, 𝖙𝖔 𝖕𝖎𝖊𝖗𝖈𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖌𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖒:

𝕸𝖆𝖞 𝕿𝖍𝖞 𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖉𝖔𝖒 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊.