𝒫𝑒𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓃𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝓊𝓉𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝒾𝑜̀ 𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓉𝑜 𝒶𝒾 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝒷𝒾𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾, 𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝓂𝓅𝓇𝑒 𝓊𝓃 𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝑔𝑔𝒾𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓇𝒶𝓏𝒾𝑜𝓃𝒶𝓁𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓃 𝓊𝓃 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝒾𝓈𝑜 𝒻𝓊𝑔𝑔𝑒𝓋𝑜𝓁𝑒. ℋ𝑜 𝓁𝒶 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓏𝓏𝒶 𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝓁' 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓃 𝓈𝓂𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇𝒶̀ 𝓂𝒶𝒾 𝒹𝒾 𝒸𝒶𝓅𝒾𝓇𝑒, 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝒸𝒾𝓊𝓉𝑜, 𝓉𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝒹𝑜, 𝒹𝒶𝓃𝓃𝒶𝓉𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓁𝓁𝑒 𝑒 𝓃𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜 𝓉𝑒𝓂𝓅𝑜 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓈𝑒𝑔𝓊𝒾𝓇𝒶̀ 𝒶 𝒹𝒾𝒻𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒾.

𝒮𝑜𝓃𝑜 𝒶𝓉𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝓁 𝓂𝑜𝓃𝒹𝑜, 𝒹𝒶𝓁𝓁𝒶 𝓈𝓅𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓃𝑒𝒾𝓉𝒶̀ 𝒹𝒾 𝓊𝓃𝑜 𝓈𝑔𝓊𝒶𝓇𝒹𝑜 𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓁𝓁𝒶 𝓈𝑜𝒶𝓋𝒾𝓉𝒶̀ 𝒹𝒾 𝓊𝓃 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝒾𝓈𝑜 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓇𝑜.
𝒱𝒾𝓋𝑜 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑒𝑔𝓊𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑜 𝒸𝒾𝑜’ 𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓁𝓁𝒾𝒶 𝓊𝓃 𝓅𝑒𝓃𝓈𝒾𝑒𝓇𝑜 𝑒𝒹 𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓏𝒾𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓊𝓃'𝒶𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑜.
ℋ𝑜 𝓁𝒶 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓈𝒶𝓅𝑒𝓋𝑜𝓁𝑒𝓏𝓏𝒶 𝒹𝒾 𝓃𝑜𝓃 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝒹 𝓊𝓃' 𝑒𝓈𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝑔𝓁𝒾 𝑜𝒸𝒸𝒽𝒾 𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝑔𝓁𝒾𝑒 𝓁'𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝒾 𝓂𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾.
ℱ𝑜𝓇𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒾 𝒶𝓅𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑒𝓃𝑔𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓏𝒶 𝓉𝓊 𝓁𝑜 𝓈𝒶𝓅𝓅𝒾𝒶.

ℐ𝓃 𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝑜 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒾𝑜𝒹𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇𝒾𝒸𝑜 𝑒̀  𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜 𝓇𝒾𝒸𝑜𝓇𝓇𝑒𝓃𝓉𝑒 𝓁𝒶 𝒷𝒶𝓇𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓇𝒶 𝒹𝑒𝓁𝓁' 𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓃𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃𝑒.
𝒬𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒶 𝑒̀ 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓊𝓃 𝒹𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝑜 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒻𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶 𝓃𝑜𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶 𝒸𝑜𝓈𝒸𝒾𝑒𝓃𝓏𝒶, 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒸𝒽𝑒̀ 𝓃𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝓋𝓋𝒾𝒸𝒾𝓃𝒶 𝒸𝒽𝒾 𝓅𝑜𝓉𝓇𝑒𝒷𝒷𝑒  𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝓋𝓇𝑒𝒷𝒷𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝓃𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝒽𝒾 𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒸𝒾𝒶 𝓊𝓃 𝑔𝓇𝒾𝒹𝑜 𝒹'𝒶𝒾𝓊𝓉𝑜 𝓅𝑒𝓇 𝓇𝒾𝒸𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝑒.
𝒮𝒾𝒶𝓂𝑜 𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓅𝓅𝑜 𝓅𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒾 𝒹𝒾 𝓃𝑜𝒾 𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾 𝓅𝑒𝓇 𝒹𝑒𝒹𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓁 𝓃𝑜𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑜 𝓉𝑒𝓂𝓅𝑜.
ℰ𝓅𝓅𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝓁𝒶 𝓈𝒶𝑔𝑔𝑒𝓏𝓏𝒶 𝓅𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒶𝓉𝒶 𝒸𝒾 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝑒𝑔𝓃𝒶 𝒶𝓁𝓉𝓇𝑜, 𝓂𝒶 𝓃𝑜𝒾 𝓃𝑜𝓃 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓇𝒾𝒶𝓂𝑜 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒶.

𝒩𝑒𝓁 𝒸𝑜𝓇𝓈𝑜 𝒹𝑒𝑔𝓁𝒾 𝒶𝓃𝓃𝒾 𝒶𝒷𝒷𝒾𝒶𝓂𝑜 𝒸𝑜𝓈𝓉𝓇𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝑔𝑜𝓁𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓁𝒾, 𝑔𝒾𝓊𝓈𝓉𝑒 𝑜 𝒾𝓂𝓅𝓇𝑒𝒸𝒾𝓈𝑒 𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓈𝒶𝓃𝑜 𝒶𝓅𝓅𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓇𝑒.
𝒯𝓊𝓉𝓉𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓃𝑜 𝒹𝒶𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑜𝒹𝑜 𝒹𝒾 𝓇𝑒𝓁𝒶𝓏𝒾𝑜𝓃𝒶𝓇𝒸𝒾 𝒸𝑜𝓃 𝑔𝓁𝒾 𝒶𝓁𝓉𝓇𝒾, 𝒸𝑜𝓃 𝓊𝓃 𝑜𝒸𝒸𝒽𝒾𝑜 𝒹𝒾 𝓇𝒾𝑔𝓊𝒶𝓇𝒹𝑜 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝒾 𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾 𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑜 𝑒𝑔𝑜𝒸𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓇𝒾𝒸𝒾 𝑒 𝒾𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓋𝒾𝒹𝓊𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒾.  𝒩𝑜𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓂𝑒𝓃𝑜 𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝑜 𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝑔𝑔𝒾𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒶 𝒾𝓃𝑔𝒶𝓃𝓃𝒶𝓉𝑜, 𝒹𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑜 𝒶𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓁𝓁𝒶 𝓈𝓂𝒶𝓃𝒾𝒶 𝒹𝒾 𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝑜 𝒹𝒾 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓂𝑒𝑔𝑔𝒾𝒶𝓇𝑒.
ℰ𝓅𝓅𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝒸𝒾 𝓋𝑜𝓇𝓇𝑒𝒷𝒷𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓈𝒾̀ 𝓅𝑜𝒸𝑜 𝓅𝑒𝓇 𝒸𝒶𝓅𝒾𝓇𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓈𝒾𝒶𝓂𝑜 𝒻𝒶𝓉𝓉𝒾, 𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓁 𝓉𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓅𝑒𝓇 𝓋𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓇𝓂𝑜𝓃𝒾𝒶 𝒸𝑜𝓃 𝓃𝑜𝒾 𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾 𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜𝓃𝒾𝒶 𝒸𝑜𝓃 𝒾𝓁 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓂𝑜.

ℋ𝑜 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑜 𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒶 𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓃 𝓅𝓊𝑜̀ 𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓊𝓃 𝓇𝑒𝑔𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑜 𝒹𝒾 𝒸𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓈𝑒, 𝒹𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓈𝒸𝓇𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾 𝒷𝓊𝑜𝓃𝒾 𝑒 𝒾 𝒸𝒶𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓋𝒾. ℰ𝓈𝓈𝒶 𝒹𝑒𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓇 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝒾 𝓉𝓊𝓉𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝒾𝑜̀ 𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝒾𝓈𝒶𝓁𝓉𝒶  𝓃𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑜𝓃𝒶 𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒾 𝓈𝓉𝒶 𝒹𝒾 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒 𝑒 𝓇𝒾𝓃𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒸𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝒶 𝓇𝒾𝒻𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓈𝒶 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓁' 𝒾𝒹𝑒𝒶 𝒹𝒾 𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓁 𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝑒𝓃𝓈𝒶 𝑒 𝒹𝒾 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓁𝒶 𝑒𝓈𝓅𝑜𝓃𝑒.  (ℒ𝒶 𝓈𝒸𝓊𝓁𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒶 𝑒̀ 𝒹𝒾 𝒥𝑜𝒽𝓃 ℳ𝑜𝓇𝓇𝒾𝓈)

ℐ𝓃 𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒾 𝑔𝒾𝑜𝓇𝓃𝒾 𝒾𝓁 𝒸𝓁𝒾𝓂𝒶 𝒶𝓊𝓉𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒶𝓁𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒶 𝓉𝑒𝓂𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓉𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝓂𝑒𝓃𝑜 𝓂𝒾𝓉𝒾 𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒶̀ 𝓈𝑜𝓃𝑜 𝓁𝑒𝑔𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒾𝓉𝑜, 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒸𝒽𝑒́ 𝒸𝑜𝓃 𝒾𝓁 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝒹𝑜 𝓈𝑒 𝓃𝑒 𝓋𝒶 𝒶𝓃𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶 𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓈𝒶𝓏𝒾𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒹𝒾 𝓈𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓃𝒾𝓉𝒶̀ 𝑒 𝒹𝒾 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓃𝓈𝒾𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓏𝓏𝒶 𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝓁' 𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝑔𝒶𝓁𝒶. 𝒩𝑒𝓁 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓂𝑜 𝓅𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓇𝒾𝑔𝑔𝒾𝑜 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑜 𝓁𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝑒 𝓅𝑒𝓇 𝓁𝒶 𝓋𝒾𝓊𝓏𝓏𝑒 𝒹𝒾 𝒞𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝒶𝓇𝒾, 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑜 𝒹𝒾 𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓋𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓁 𝓋𝑒𝒸𝒸𝒽𝒾𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝒹𝓊𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝓊𝓁𝓁𝒶 𝓅𝒶𝓃𝒸𝒶 𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒾𝒸𝒶 𝒶 𝒸𝑒𝓇𝒸𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓁 𝓉𝑒𝓅𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝒾 𝓇𝒶𝑔𝑔𝒾 𝒹𝑒𝓁 𝓈𝑜𝓁𝑒, 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝒾𝑒𝓂𝑒 𝒶𝒹 𝓊𝓃𝒶 𝓃𝓊𝓋𝑜𝓁𝒶 𝒹𝒾 𝓅𝒾𝒸𝒸𝑜𝓁𝑒 𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓃𝒹𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓉𝑜𝓇𝑒. 𝒟𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝑒̀ 𝓁𝓊𝒾 𝒶 𝓇𝒶𝒸𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓁  𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓈𝒸𝑜𝓇𝓈𝑜, 𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝑜 𝒶𝓈𝒸𝑜𝓁𝓉𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓅𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝒸𝑒𝑔𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓁 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓉𝑒. 𝒰𝓃 𝒶𝓁𝓉𝓇𝑜 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝑜 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝑜𝓃 𝓁𝒶 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓉𝒶̀ 𝒹𝒾 𝑜𝑔𝑔𝒾 𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒾 𝓈𝒶𝓅𝑜𝓇𝒾 𝒹𝒾 𝒻𝑒𝓁𝒾𝒸𝒾𝓉𝒶̀ 𝓇𝒶𝓇𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝑒 𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈𝒸𝑜 𝒶𝒹 𝒶𝒸𝒸𝑜𝑔𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓇𝑒.

𝒩𝒾𝓉𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝒾𝓃𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓅𝒶𝓉𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝓁 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓅𝓊𝒸𝑜𝓁𝑜 𝓈𝑜𝓃𝑜 𝑒𝒸𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓋𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝒸𝒾𝓈𝑒 𝑒 𝓈𝒾 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝒶𝓃𝑜 𝓃𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶 𝓂𝒾𝒶 𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓃 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓅𝑜𝓈𝒾𝓉𝒾 𝒹𝒾 𝒾𝓃𝒹𝒾𝒸𝒾𝒷𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝓃𝒶𝓂𝒾𝒸𝒾𝓉𝒶̀ 𝒹'𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾.
𝒮𝒶𝓇𝑒𝒷𝒷𝑒 𝒾𝓁 𝒸𝒶𝓈𝑜 𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝑔𝑔𝓊𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾 𝑜𝑔𝓃𝒾 𝓅𝒾𝒸𝒸𝑜𝓁𝑜 𝒹𝑒𝓉𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝑜 𝒹𝒾 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓏𝒶, 𝓅𝑒𝓇 𝓃𝑜𝓃 𝓁𝒶𝓈𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓈𝒸𝑒𝓂𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓁 𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒶 𝒹𝑒𝓁 𝑔𝒾𝑜𝓇𝓃𝑜. 

𝒬𝓊𝒶𝓃𝒹'𝑒𝓇𝑜 𝓅𝒾𝒸𝒸𝑜𝓁𝑜 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒹𝑒𝓋𝑜 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓈𝑒. 𝒪𝓇𝒶 𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓃𝑜 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒹𝑜 𝒹'𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒹𝓊𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓅𝓅𝑜. ℳ𝒶 𝓁𝒶 𝓋𝒾𝓉𝒶 𝑒̀ 𝓁𝓊𝓃𝑔𝒶, 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓃𝒹𝒾 𝓂𝒶𝒾 𝓈𝓂𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇𝑜̀ 𝒹𝒾 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒.

𝒜𝒹 𝓊𝓃 𝑔𝒾𝑜𝓋𝒶𝓃𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝓁𝑒𝑔𝒶 𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓋𝒶 𝒹𝒾 𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓈𝑒𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓁 𝓂𝑜𝓃𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃𝒾, 𝒽𝑜 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝒾 𝓊𝓈𝒸𝒾𝓇𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓁 𝓃𝑜𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑜 𝒶𝓂𝒷𝒾𝑒𝓃𝓉𝑒 𝒹𝒾 𝓋𝒾𝓉𝒶 𝑒 𝒹𝒾 𝓁𝒶𝓋𝑜𝓇𝑜, 𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒾 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶 𝓆𝓊𝑜𝓉𝒾𝒹𝒾𝒶𝓃𝑒𝒾𝓉𝒶̀ 𝒹𝒾 𝓊𝓃 𝒻𝒶𝒷𝒷𝓇𝑜, 𝒹𝒾 𝓊𝓃 𝒻𝒶𝓁𝑒𝑔𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝑜 𝒹𝒾 𝓊𝓃 𝓂𝓊𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑜𝓇𝑒. 𝒞𝑜𝓃 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓅𝑜𝓃𝒾𝒷𝒾𝓁𝒾𝓉𝒶̀ 𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝒹𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒶 𝒽𝒶 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑜 𝓆𝓊𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝒾𝒶 𝒹𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒶 𝓁𝒶 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓉𝒶̀ 𝒹𝒶 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓁𝒶 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓉𝒶𝓋𝒶.

ℳ𝒶𝒾 𝓂𝒾 𝒶𝒸𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝑒𝓁𝓁' 𝑜𝓋𝓋𝒾𝑒𝓉𝒶̀, 𝒾𝓃𝒹𝒶𝑔𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝓂𝓅𝓇𝑒 𝒸𝒾𝑜̀ 𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝑜𝓈𝒸𝑜. 𝒩𝑒𝓁𝓁' 𝑒𝓋𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓃𝓏𝒶 𝓈𝓊𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒 𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑜 𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝓊𝓉𝓉𝒾 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝑜𝓈𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓂𝑜, 𝓃𝑒𝓁𝓁'𝒾𝑔𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑜 𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑜 𝒹𝒾 𝒸𝓊𝒾 𝓆𝓊𝒶𝓈𝒾 𝓉𝓊𝓉𝓉𝒾 𝒶𝒷𝒷𝒾𝒶𝓂𝑜 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒,  𝓂𝒶 𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝑒̀ 𝓃𝑒𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒶𝓇𝒾𝑜 𝓅𝑒𝓇 𝓁𝒶 𝓃𝑜𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓈𝒸𝒾𝓉𝒶 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑜𝓃𝒶𝓁𝑒 𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓋𝒶.