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𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝖾𝖾 here 𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖾. 𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝖽𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝗈, 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝖺 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗄𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗎𝗇𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗓𝖾𝗇 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝖺𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝖺𝗒𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌.𝖳𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗒, 𝖨 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇. 𝖬𝗒 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾’𝗌 𝖫𝖺𝗎𝗋𝖺, 𝖨’𝗆 𝟥𝟦, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨’𝗆 𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗆 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖡𝗂𝗋𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗁𝖺𝗆 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗒 𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍-𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋-𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝖮𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗈𝗐𝗇.𝖨 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗍 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾. 𝖨 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗍𝗁𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌, 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗌𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌. 𝖨’𝗏𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝖺 𝗌𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗒, 𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗍, 𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾.𝖠 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗁𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝗈, 𝗆𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄. 𝖨 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗌.𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖨 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝖿𝗍𝗌. 𝖨 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾, 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝖨 𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌.𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗆 𝗐𝖺𝗌, 𝖨 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗄𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝖳𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗈. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗒: 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽, 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗄, 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖺, 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗇, 𝖼𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖮𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝗏𝖾𝗀𝖾𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗌.𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 £𝟦𝟨.𝟥𝟢.𝖨 𝗍𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽.𝖯𝖺𝗒𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽.𝖨 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇.𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽.𝖠 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗎𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝖾. 𝖲𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗁𝗂𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝖾𝖽: — 𝖣𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽?𝖨 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍. 𝖨 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗀𝗌, 𝗍𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍.𝖥𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍, 𝖨 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗇.𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗀𝖾𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗌.𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅.𝖮𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽: — 𝖬𝗎𝗆, 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖾. 𝖨 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝖿𝖺𝗌𝗍. 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖨 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗐𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗎𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇.𝖯𝖾𝗋𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗉 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗐𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖺𝖿𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗋𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽.𝖨 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗄𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖮𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋’𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗌 𝖨 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽.𝖮𝗎𝗍𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾, 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽: — 𝖣𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒, 𝖬𝗎𝗆. 𝖨 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖼𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗐𝖺𝗒. 𝖨 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖨 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀.𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾, 𝖨 𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾
