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 𝕊𝕋𝕆ℝ𝕐𝔹𝕆𝔸ℝ𝔻

𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕜𝕖𝕟 𝕝𝕖𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕤 𝕥𝕖𝕝𝕝 𝕠𝕗 𝕒 𝕥𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕠𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕓𝕦𝕚𝕝𝕥 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕓𝕪 𝕙𝕦𝕞𝕒𝕟 𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕤, 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕓𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕖𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕪 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕔𝕖𝕒𝕟 𝕚𝕥𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗. 𝕀𝕥𝕤 𝕔𝕠𝕝𝕦𝕞𝕟𝕤 𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕕 𝕦𝕡 𝕟𝕠 𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕤𝕚𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕪 𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕕 𝕓𝕖𝕥𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕 𝕠𝕗 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕤.

𝔼𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕗𝕦𝕝𝕝 𝕞𝕠𝕠𝕟, 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖 𝕠𝕣𝕔𝕒𝕤 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕔𝕦𝕣𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕘𝕖 𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕦𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕕 𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕥𝕦𝕒𝕣𝕪. 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕔𝕚𝕝 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕣𝕦𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤, 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕤𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕘𝕦𝕒𝕣𝕕𝕚𝕒𝕟𝕤 𝕥𝕒𝕤𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕜𝕖𝕖𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕓𝕖𝕥𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕒𝕓𝕪𝕤𝕤. 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕝𝕒𝕣𝕘𝕖𝕤𝕥, 𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕒 𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕥-𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕖𝕕 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝕡𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙, 𝕓𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖 𝔸𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕤, "𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕣𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣𝕤." 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕨𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕤 𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕦𝕣𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕤 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕒𝕟 𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕦𝕒𝕘𝕖.

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕘𝕠𝕝𝕕𝕗𝕚𝕤𝕙, 𝕘𝕠𝕝𝕕𝕖𝕟 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕗𝕝𝕒𝕞𝕓𝕠𝕪𝕒𝕟𝕥, 𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕟𝕙𝕒𝕓𝕚𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕞𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣𝕤, 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕕 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕠, 𝕦𝕡 𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕗𝕒𝕔𝕖, 𝕙𝕒𝕕 𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕘𝕠𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕧𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕔. 𝔼𝕒𝕔𝕙 𝕗𝕚𝕤𝕙 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕕 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟 𝕚𝕥 𝕒𝕟 𝕦𝕟𝕗𝕦𝕝𝕗𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕨𝕚𝕤𝕙, 𝕒𝕟 𝕦𝕟𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕚𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕕 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕚𝕥 𝕗𝕖𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕣𝕔𝕒𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕕𝕖𝕔𝕚𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕠𝕗 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕔𝕙 𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕤 𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕧𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕗𝕒𝕔𝕖, 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕕 𝕓𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕦𝕣𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕤𝕝𝕖𝕖𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤.

𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥, 𝕒𝕤 𝔸𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕤 𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕕 𝕓𝕖𝕥𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕝𝕦𝕞𝕟𝕤, 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕕𝕚𝕗𝕗𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕒 𝕧𝕚𝕓𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟, 𝕒𝕝𝕞𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕒 𝕡𝕣𝕒𝕪𝕖𝕣. 𝔸 𝕤𝕞𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕘𝕠𝕝𝕕𝕗𝕚𝕤𝕙, 𝕤𝕞𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥, 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕤𝕨𝕚𝕞𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕘𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕦𝕣𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕥, 𝕣𝕖𝕗𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕗𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕨 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕟𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕝 𝕗𝕝𝕠𝕨 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤. 𝔸𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕤 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕨 𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕖𝕣, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕥𝕒𝕝 𝕤𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕖𝕡𝕥𝕙𝕤, 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕠𝕕: 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕞𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕗𝕚𝕤𝕙 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞 𝕠𝕗 𝕒𝕟 𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕤𝕥 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕗𝕒𝕔𝕖, 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕟𝕖𝕖𝕕𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕕 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕪 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕚𝕓𝕝𝕖.

𝕊𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕔𝕚𝕝 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝔻𝕖𝕡𝕥𝕙𝕤, 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥, 𝕕𝕖𝕔𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕝𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕦𝕣𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕪 𝕚𝕥 𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕕. 𝔽𝕠𝕣 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤, 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕒𝕝𝕨𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕒 𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕙 𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕖.

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