𝒜𝑔𝒾𝓉𝑜 𝓁𝑒 𝑜𝓇𝑒, 𝓈𝓊 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 𝒹𝒾 𝓋𝑒𝓁𝓁𝓊𝓉𝑜, 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒸𝑒𝒹𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑜 𝓁𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓅𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒹𝒾 𝓁𝒶𝓈𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓂𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒 𝒾𝓃𝑔𝒾𝓊𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒻𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓉𝑒, 𝓃𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝒶𝓅𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑜 𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓉𝒶̀ 𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓃𝑔𝑜 𝑜𝓇𝓂𝑒 𝓃𝑒𝓁 𝒸𝓊𝑜𝓇𝑒, 𝓈𝑒𝑔𝓃𝒾 𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓃𝑜 𝒸𝑜𝓈𝒾̀ 𝓋𝒾𝒸𝒾𝓃𝑜 𝒶𝓁 𝓅𝑒𝓃𝓈𝒾𝑒𝓇𝑜, 𝒹𝒶 𝒻𝒶𝓇 𝒹𝒾𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒾 𝒷𝓇𝑜𝓃𝒸𝒾 𝒹𝑒𝒾 𝑔𝒾𝑜𝓇𝓃𝒾.
𝒩𝑜𝓃 𝓅𝑒𝓃𝓈𝑜 𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑒 𝑜𝓇𝓂𝑒 𝓃𝑒𝓁 𝒸𝓊𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓇𝒾𝓂𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑜𝓃𝑜 𝒾𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓁𝑒𝒷𝒾𝓁𝒾 𝓃𝑒𝓁 𝓉𝑒𝓂𝓅𝑜, 𝒶𝓃𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑒 𝓃𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜 𝓉𝑒𝓂𝓅𝑜 𝓁𝒾 𝒽𝑜 𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓊𝓉𝒾 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓃𝑜.
ℐ𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓊𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝑒 𝓇𝒾𝒻𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑜𝓁𝑜 𝓁'𝒶𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑜 𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒸𝑜𝓇𝓇𝑜 𝒾𝓁 𝓉𝑒𝓂𝓅𝑜, 𝒾𝓃𝓋𝑒𝒸𝑒 𝑒̀ 𝒾𝓁 𝓉𝑒𝓂𝓅𝑜 𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓃 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓇𝒶 𝓁𝒶𝓈𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓈𝓅𝒶𝓏𝒾𝑜 𝒶𝓁𝓁'𝒶𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑜, 𝓋𝓊𝑜𝓁𝑒 𝓋𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓁𝑜 𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓋𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓁𝑜, 𝒸𝑜𝓃 𝓁𝑒 𝓅𝒾𝓊̀ 𝒸𝒽𝒾𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓏𝑒 𝒹𝒾 𝓊𝓃 𝓁𝒾𝓆𝓊𝒾𝒹𝑜 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓇𝒾𝑜 𝒻𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝒾 𝓊𝓃 𝓅𝒾𝒶𝒸𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓈𝑜©


