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𝙵𝙻𝚈𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴𝚂 𝙻𝙴𝙽𝙰 𝚂𝙸𝙲𝙺 𝚃𝙾 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝚂𝚃𝙾𝙼𝙰𝙲𝙷 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙰𝚂 𝙻𝙾𝙽𝙶 𝙰𝚂 𝚂𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙴𝙼𝙱𝙴𝚁, 𝙸𝚃 𝙰𝙻𝚆𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝙷𝙰𝙳. 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷𝚃 𝙸𝙽 𝙶𝙴𝙽𝙴𝚁𝙰𝙻 𝙱𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙷𝙾𝚃 𝙱𝚄𝚁𝙽 𝙾𝙵 𝙱𝙸𝙻𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝙾𝙵 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙾𝙰𝚃, 𝙼𝙰𝙳𝙴 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙿𝚄𝙻𝚂𝙴 𝚂𝙺𝚈𝚁𝙾𝙲𝙺𝙴𝚃 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙳𝚂 𝚃𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙱𝙻𝙴. 𝚂𝙷𝙴 𝙷𝙰𝙳 𝙵𝙻𝙴𝚆 𝙰 𝙵𝙴𝚆 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴𝚂 𝙸𝙽 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝚂𝙴𝚅𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙴𝙽 𝚈𝙴𝙰𝚁𝚂, 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝙾𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝙳𝙸𝙳 𝙰 𝙼𝙴𝙼𝙾𝚁𝚈 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝚃𝙷 𝙾𝙵 𝚃𝚁𝙴𝙰𝚂𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝙾𝙵 𝙸𝚃. 𝙿𝙴𝚁𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚂 𝙸𝚃 𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝙲𝙸𝚁𝙲𝙻𝙴𝙳 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚃𝙾 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙵𝙸𝚁𝚂𝚃 𝙵𝙻𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽 𝚂𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝚂 𝙵𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙼𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝚆𝙰𝚂 𝙵𝚁𝙴𝚂𝙷𝙻𝚈 𝙻𝙰𝙸𝙳 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙾 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙳𝚄𝙶 𝚄𝙿 𝙳𝙸𝚁𝚃 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙰 𝚂𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴𝚁 𝚆𝙰𝚂 𝙷𝙾𝙻𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙳. 𝙻𝙴𝙽𝙰 𝙷𝙰𝙳 𝙽𝙾 𝙸𝙳𝙴𝙰 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝚂𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝙱𝙴 𝙶𝙾𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙰𝙵𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙱𝚄𝚃 𝚂𝙷𝙴 𝙺𝙽𝙴𝚆 𝚂𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝚂𝙽'𝚃 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚈𝙸𝙽𝙶. 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙵𝙰𝙲𝙴 𝙾𝙵 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚆𝙰𝚂 𝙵𝙰𝙼𝙸𝙻𝙸𝙰𝚁 𝙴𝙽𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷 𝙱𝚄𝚃 𝙸𝚃 𝙳𝙸𝙳 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝙱𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙵𝙾𝚁𝚃 𝙽𝙾 𝙼𝙰𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙷𝙾𝚆 𝙷𝙴 𝙾𝙵𝙵𝙴𝚁𝙴𝙳 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙸𝚅𝙸𝙳𝙴𝙳 𝙰𝚃𝚃𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽—𝙷𝙾𝚆 𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙳 𝙷𝙸𝙼𝚂𝙴𝙻𝙵 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙵𝙰𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁. 𝚂𝙷𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙴𝙼𝙱𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙲𝚁𝚈𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙷𝙾𝙻𝙴 𝙵𝙻𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 𝚃𝙾 𝙰𝙼𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙲𝙰, 𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙴𝙼𝙱𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙵𝙴𝙴𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚂𝙸𝙲𝙺 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝚁𝙴 𝙲𝙰𝚁 𝚁𝙸𝙳𝙴 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙴 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙳𝙾𝚆𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙽𝚃𝚁𝚈 𝚁𝙾𝙰𝙳𝚂 𝚃𝙾 𝙰 𝙷𝙾𝚄𝚂𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚂𝙷𝙴 𝙷𝙰𝙳 𝙾𝙽𝙻𝚈 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁 𝚂𝙴𝙴𝙽 𝙸𝙽 𝙳𝙾𝙻𝙻 𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙼—𝚃𝙾 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙸𝚃 𝚆𝙰𝚂 𝙰 𝙲𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙻𝙴. 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙴 𝙱𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷𝚃 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝙾 𝙰 𝙽𝙴𝚆 '𝙵𝙰𝙼𝙸𝙻𝚈' 𝙾𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃𝚂 𝙷𝙾𝚆 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚈 𝙿𝚁𝙴𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙼𝚂𝙴𝙻𝚅𝙴𝚂 𝚃𝙾 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙳 𝙴𝚈𝙴𝙳 𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚃𝙻𝙴 𝙶𝙸𝚁𝙻 𝙲𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙾 𝙰 𝚂𝚃𝚄𝙵𝙵𝙴𝙳 𝙱𝙴𝙰𝚁 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙱𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙳 𝚃𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃𝙻𝚈 𝙸𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙿𝙰𝙽𝚃 𝙻𝙴𝙶 𝙾𝙵 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙼𝙰𝙽. 𝙵𝙻𝚈𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴𝙳 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙻𝙸𝙵𝙴, 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝚈 𝚂𝙷𝙴 𝚅𝙸𝙴𝚆𝙴𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶𝚂 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙷𝙾𝚆 𝚂𝙷𝙴 𝙾𝙽𝙻𝚈 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁 𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝚃𝙾 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚈 𝙾𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙶𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳. 𝚂𝙷𝙴 𝚃𝙸𝙴𝙳 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙴𝚂 𝚃𝙾 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙼𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙳𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙷, 𝚃𝙾 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝚈𝙴𝙰𝚁𝚂 𝙸𝙽 𝙱𝙾𝙰𝚁𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚂𝙲𝙷𝙾𝙾𝙻, 𝚃𝙾 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙻𝚄𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚁 𝙽𝙰𝙼𝙴, 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚂𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙸𝚂𝙷𝙴𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙳𝙰𝚈 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴 𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝙱𝙴 𝙽𝙾 𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙴 𝙵𝙻𝚈𝙸𝙽𝙶.
