𝘗𝘦𝘯𝘴ò 𝘢𝘪 𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢 𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘢, 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘩é 𝘤𝘪 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘰 𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪 𝘤𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘰 𝘭𝘢 𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘢: 𝘭𝘰 𝘻𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘢𝘷𝘦, 𝘪𝘭 𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘥𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢 𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵ù 𝘤𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘪 𝘪𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘪 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢 𝘥𝘪 𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦, 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘪 𝘭𝘪𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘤𝘪, 𝘭𝘰 𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘤𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘢, 𝘪𝘭 𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘰 𝘥𝘪 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘢.
𝘈𝘳𝘪𝘢, 𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴ò, 𝘭𝘢 𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘢 è 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘢 𝘥’𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘢, 𝘶𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘰 𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘢.
(𝘈𝘯𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘰 𝘛𝘢𝘣𝘶𝘤𝘤𝘩𝘪)