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 𝕊𝕋𝕆ℝ𝕐𝔹𝕆𝔸ℝ𝔻 :

𝕊𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕒𝕕 𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕞 𝕒𝕤 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕒 𝕤𝕖𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕥.
ℍ𝕚𝕤 𝕙𝕖𝕖𝕝𝕤 𝕞𝕒𝕕𝕖 𝕟𝕠 𝕟𝕠𝕚𝕤𝕖, 𝕝𝕖𝕥 𝕒𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤.

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕧𝕖𝕝𝕧𝕖𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕒𝕚𝕣 𝕤𝕖𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕕 𝕚𝕥𝕤 𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙 𝕒𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 𝕚𝕥.
𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕤, 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕡𝕠𝕨𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕙𝕦𝕖𝕤, 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕞𝕖𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕠𝕝𝕕 𝕡𝕠𝕖𝕞𝕤 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕖𝕡𝕥𝕙𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤.
𝕊𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕒𝕥 𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕟, 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕗𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕘𝕦𝕖, 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕒𝕤 𝕚𝕗 𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕒 𝕤𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕨𝕒𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕙𝕖𝕣.

ℍ𝕚𝕤 𝕖𝕪𝕖𝕤, 𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥, 𝕒𝕝𝕞𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕚𝕞𝕡𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕧𝕖, 𝕝𝕖𝕥 𝕘𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕒 𝕤𝕠𝕗𝕥 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕗𝕒𝕔𝕖.
𝕊𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕒 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕒𝕤 𝕒𝕟 𝕦𝕟𝕤𝕡𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 𝕠𝕒𝕥𝕙, 𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕖, 𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕣𝕠𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕤𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕤.
ℍ𝕚𝕤 𝕘𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕕 𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕤 𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕠𝕟 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕔𝕣𝕠𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕤, 𝕒𝕤 𝕚𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕜𝕖𝕡𝕥 𝕒 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕤𝕖𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕟𝕠 𝕜𝕖𝕪 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕦𝕟𝕝𝕠𝕔𝕜.

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕠𝕗 𝕣𝕠𝕤𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕟 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕔𝕠𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕥𝕣𝕪:
𝕚𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕒 𝕗𝕝𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕝 𝕒𝕣𝕞𝕠𝕦𝕣, 𝕒 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕚𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕟 𝕚𝕥𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕝𝕕𝕖𝕟 𝕔𝕦𝕣𝕝𝕤.

𝔹𝕖𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝕙𝕖𝕣, 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕤𝕖𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕝𝕪, 𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕗𝕦𝕝 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕨𝕒𝕜𝕖.
𝔼𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕧𝕒𝕤𝕖𝕤 𝕤𝕖𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕘𝕣𝕠𝕨 𝕚𝕟 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕕𝕚𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟.

𝕊𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕚𝕕𝕟’𝕥 𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕜.
ℕ𝕠 𝕟𝕖𝕖𝕕.
ℍ𝕖𝕣 𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕝𝕕 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘: 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕖𝕕 𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕘𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖, 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕕 𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕪, 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕞 𝕠𝕗 𝕒 𝕨𝕠𝕞𝕒𝕟 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕖𝕩𝕡𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕, 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕚𝕤 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕚𝕟 𝕒 𝕙𝕦𝕣𝕣𝕪.

𝕀𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕞 𝕓𝕒𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟 𝕤𝕠𝕗𝕥 𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕚𝕝𝕜𝕪 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕤, 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕦𝕝𝕖𝕕.
ℕ𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕙𝕠𝕨𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕖𝕟, 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕒 𝕤𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕚𝕘𝕟 𝕠𝕗 𝕤𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖,
𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕠𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕦𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟 𝕒 𝕝𝕠𝕨 𝕧𝕠𝕚𝕔𝕖,
𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕗𝕖𝕒𝕣 𝕠𝕗 𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕓𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕠𝕖𝕥𝕣𝕪 𝕠𝕗 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖.

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♡▪︎• xX♡ ⌨ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ ᵐʸ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷᵉʳˢ & ᵐʸ ˢᵖᵒⁿˢᵒʳˢ•▪︎♡☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ ♡

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