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𝘕𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬-𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘺'𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘥-𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘴; 𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘈𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘊𝘪𝘵𝘺. 𝘈 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘶𝘣𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱; 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘱𝘦𝘥𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥. 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘓𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘺 "𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘑𝘦𝘵" 𝘚𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘯 7𝘵𝘩 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵. 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘺 𝘎𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘰𝘵𝘪, 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘊𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘯𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘔𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘬𝘶𝘭𝘭. 𝘉𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘺 "𝘉𝘪𝘨 𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘦" 𝘎𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘪 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘫𝘦𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘈𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘊𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘨𝘮 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘧𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘸𝘯 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘢 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢-𝘣𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘴.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘈𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘊𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳; 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘈𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘳𝘶𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘪𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘮𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴. 𝘐𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘈𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘊𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺, 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘌𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯 𝘚𝘦𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘪𝘵𝘴' 𝘴𝘬𝘺𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘢 𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘦. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘪𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘍𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘰𝘯𝘴.

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