XXVIII

97 19 56
                                    


𝓘 𝓻𝓸𝓰𝓱𝓲 𝓭𝓮𝓯𝓵𝓪𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓸 𝓲𝓿𝓲 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲 𝓲𝓷 𝓸𝓰𝓷𝓲 𝓭𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓭𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓪 𝓬𝓲𝓽𝓽à. 𝓣𝓮𝓼𝓽é 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓫𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓰𝓾𝓪𝓻𝓼𝓲 𝓭𝓲 𝓯𝓾𝓸𝓻𝓲, 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓸𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓲 𝓭𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓪 𝓷𝓸𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓪 𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓪 𝓯𝓸𝓰𝓪, 𝓪𝓭𝓸𝓶𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓲 𝓭𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓮 𝓹𝓪𝓾𝓻𝓮, 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓪𝓽𝓲 𝓹𝓮𝓻 𝓵𝓮 𝓲𝓻𝓽𝓮 𝓯𝓲𝓪𝓶𝓶𝓮 𝓪𝓵𝓵'𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓸 𝓭𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓮 𝓶𝓾𝓻𝓪.

𝓛𝓪 𝓯𝓮𝓻𝓸𝓬𝓲𝓪 𝓭𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓪 𝓰𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓫𝓮 𝓼𝓾𝓵𝓵𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓭𝓮, 𝓬𝓱𝓲
𝓶𝓾𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓭𝓲 𝓯𝓪𝓶𝓮 𝓮𝓼𝓹𝓲𝓵𝓪 𝓺𝓾𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓹𝓲ù 𝓹𝓾ò 𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓲𝓬𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓸 𝓭𝓮𝓵 𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓸 𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓽𝓸 𝓪𝓵 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓸. 𝓒𝓸𝓼𝓪 𝓹𝓾ò 𝓾𝓷 𝓹𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓿𝓮𝓬𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓸 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓶𝓮? 𝓒𝓸𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓸 𝓷𝓮𝓰𝓵𝓲 𝓪𝓬𝓬𝓲𝓪𝓬𝓬𝓱𝓲. 𝓜𝓲
𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓸 𝓷𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓪 𝓶𝓲𝓪 𝓹𝓲𝓬𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓪 𝓭𝓲𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓪 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓱é 𝓶𝓲 è
𝓵𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓽𝓸.

𝓣𝓾𝓽𝓽𝓲 𝓰𝓵𝓲 𝓪𝓯𝓯𝓪𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓲 𝓰𝓸𝔃𝔃𝓸𝓿𝓲𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓷𝓸 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓪 𝓬𝓸𝓷 𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓵 𝓬𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓷𝓸 𝓬𝓪𝓹𝓲𝓽𝓪𝓽𝓸. 𝓔 𝓷𝓸𝓷 𝓼𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓷𝓸 𝓲 𝓼𝓸𝓵𝓲. 𝓝𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓾𝓷𝓸 𝓼𝓮 𝓷𝓮 𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓪, 𝓸𝓰𝓷𝓾𝓷𝓪 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓪 𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓮 𝓷𝓮𝓵 𝓼𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓭𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓪 𝓻𝓲𝓫𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓮, 𝓮 𝓷é 𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓮 𝓸𝓰𝓷𝓲 𝓭𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓸!, 𝓶𝓪 𝓼𝓲 𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓬𝓲𝓪 𝓼𝓯𝓾𝓰𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓮 𝓺𝓾𝓪𝓵𝓬𝓸𝓼𝓪 𝓭𝓲 𝓹𝓲ù 𝓲𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓼𝓪
𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓷𝔃𝓪! 𝓔 𝓲𝓸 𝓵𝓸 𝓼𝓸, 𝓷𝓮 𝓼𝓸𝓷 𝓬𝓮𝓻𝓽𝓸, 𝓹𝓮𝓻 𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓸 𝓷𝓮
𝓼𝓬𝓻𝓲𝓿𝓸, 𝓬𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓮 𝓷𝓮 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓲 𝓪𝓲 𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓲, 𝓬𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓮 𝓷𝓮 𝓼𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓲𝓪!

𝓛'𝓲𝓶𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓪 𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓪 𝓼𝓲 𝓪𝓰𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓪 𝓯𝓾𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓪 𝓷𝓮𝓵 𝓼𝓮𝓵𝓬𝓲𝓪𝓽𝓸,
𝓷𝓸𝓷 𝓼𝓬𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓸, 𝓯𝓪𝓿𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓸 𝓭𝓪𝓵𝓵'𝓲𝓶𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓷𝓲𝓻𝓮, 𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓾𝓬𝓬𝓲𝓪𝓽𝓸
𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓼𝓼à 𝓲𝓷 𝓺𝓾𝓪𝓵𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓿𝓸, 𝓶𝓪 𝓲𝓸 𝓵𝓸 𝓼𝓮𝓹𝓹𝓲.
𝓒𝓸𝓼𝓪 𝓶𝓲 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓋𝑒 𝓿𝓮𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓪 𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓽𝓪 𝓰𝓲𝓸𝓻𝓷𝓪𝓽𝓪? 𝓤𝓷𝓪 𝓯𝓲𝓮𝓻𝓪. 𝓤𝓷 𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓭𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓲𝓪𝓬𝓸, 𝓫𝓾𝓻𝓫𝓪𝓷𝔃𝓸𝓼𝓸, 𝓬𝓱𝓮 𝓷𝓮𝓵 𝓬𝓮𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓸 𝓪𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓸 𝓾𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓸, 𝓪𝓰𝓲𝓿𝓪 𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓫𝓪𝓽𝓪. 𝓜𝓪 𝓲𝓸 𝓵𝓸 𝓿𝓲𝓭𝓲! 𝓜𝓾𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓭𝓪 𝓾𝓸𝓶𝓸 𝓲𝓷 𝓫𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓪 𝓮 𝓭𝓪 𝓫𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓪 𝓲𝓷 𝓾𝓸𝓶𝓸.

𝓛𝓸 𝓿𝓲𝓭𝓲 𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓷𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓪𝓫𝓲𝓵𝓮 è 𝓵𝓪 𝓼𝓾𝓪 𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓽𝓮𝔃𝔃𝓪, 𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓬𝓻𝓪𝓫𝓲𝓵𝓲
𝓵𝓮 𝓼𝓾𝓮 𝓰𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓪.
𝓘𝓵 𝓬𝓾𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓭'𝓮𝓰𝓵𝓲, 𝓬𝓱'𝓮𝓻𝓪 𝓭𝓮𝓵 𝓽𝓾𝓽𝓽𝓸 𝓲𝓷𝓷𝓸𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓮 𝓮 𝓲𝓰𝓷𝓪𝓻𝓸, 𝓪𝓼𝓹𝓸𝓻𝓽ò 𝓿𝓲𝓪 𝓮 𝓵𝓸 𝓭𝓮𝓰𝓾𝓼𝓽ò 𝓷𝓮𝓯𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓸! 𝓘𝓵 𝓼𝓾𝓸 𝓵𝓲𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓭𝓸 𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓬𝓸 𝓯𝓾 𝓽𝓾𝓽𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮𝓿𝓾𝓽𝓸, 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓸 𝓵𝓸 𝓼𝓫𝓸𝓬𝓬𝓸 𝓮 𝓭𝓲 𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓵𝓵'𝓮𝓬𝓬𝓲𝓭𝓲𝓸 𝓼𝓲 𝓼𝓪𝔃𝓲ò 𝓭𝓲 𝓶𝓮𝓶𝓫𝓻𝓪 𝓮 𝓹𝓪𝓾𝓻𝓪, 𝓹𝓸𝓲 𝓷𝓸𝓷 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓭𝓲 𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓵𝓵'𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓼𝓲, 𝓰𝓵𝓲 𝓽𝓲𝓻ò 𝓿𝓲𝓪 𝓺𝓾𝓪𝓵𝓬𝓸𝓼𝓪 𝓭𝓲 𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓸𝓻𝓹𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓸, 𝓮𝓻𝓪 𝓵'𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓶𝓪, 𝓿𝓲 𝓭𝓲𝓬𝓸!
𝓔 𝓵𝓪 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓮 𝓭𝓲 𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓵 𝓹𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓸 𝓰𝓪𝓻𝔃𝓸𝓷𝓮? 𝓝𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓾𝓷𝓸 𝓼𝓮 𝓷𝓮 𝓬𝓾𝓻ò, 𝓹𝓸𝓲𝓬𝓱é 𝓵𝓪 𝓻𝓲𝓿𝓸𝓵𝓾𝔃𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓮𝓿𝓪 𝓮 𝓵𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓲 𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓸 𝓪𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓲 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲 𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓮.
𝓒𝓱𝓲 𝓿𝓾𝓸𝓵 𝓭𝓪𝓻 𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓽𝓸 𝓪 𝓾𝓷𝓸 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓵𝓽𝓸 𝓿𝓮𝓬𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓸? 𝓜𝓪 𝓲𝓸 𝓼𝓸𝓷 𝓬𝓮𝓻𝓽𝓸 𝓭𝓲 𝓬𝓲ò 𝓬𝓱𝓮 𝓿𝓲𝓭𝓲, 𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓽'è 𝓬𝓱𝓮 𝓷𝓮 𝓮𝓫𝓫𝓲 𝓵𝓮 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓿𝓮... 𝓬𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓲 𝓼𝓮𝓰𝓾𝓲𝓽𝓸 𝓿𝓲 𝓼𝓽𝓸 𝓪 𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓮.
𝓢𝓬𝓸𝓻𝓼𝓲 𝓵𝓪 𝓵𝓸𝓬𝓪𝔃𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓭𝓲 𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓵𝓵'𝓲𝓷𝓯𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝓪𝓬𝓻𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓰𝓸 𝓼𝓪𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓪𝓼𝓼𝓸.
𝓝𝓮𝓲 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲 𝓭𝓲 𝓾𝓷 𝓫𝓾𝓵𝓫𝓸𝓼𝓸 𝓪𝓵𝓫𝓮𝓻𝓸 𝓵𝓸 𝓿𝓲𝓭𝓲 𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓮 𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓬𝓲𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓾𝓷 𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓸𝓷𝓸! 𝓤𝓷 𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓸𝓷𝓸, 𝓿𝓲 𝓭𝓲𝓬𝓸!
𝓒𝓱𝓲𝓪𝓻𝓸 è 𝓲𝓵 𝓼𝓮𝓰𝓷𝓸 𝓭𝓮𝓵 𝓭𝓲𝓪𝓿𝓸𝓵𝓸. 𝓜𝓪 𝓷𝓮 𝓮𝓻𝓸 𝓬𝓮𝓻𝓽𝓸 𝓹𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓶𝓪, 𝓺𝓾𝓪𝓵𝓮 𝓪𝓵𝓽𝓻𝓪 𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓪 𝓹𝓾ò 𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓼𝓮𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓸 𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓮 𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓾𝓭𝓲𝓬𝓪 𝓿𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓽à?
𝓝𝓮 𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓿𝓪 𝓮 𝓾𝓼𝓬𝓲𝓿𝓪 𝓪 𝓼𝓾𝓸 𝓹𝓲𝓪𝓬𝓲𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓸, 𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓶𝓪 𝓬'𝓮𝓻𝓪 𝓹𝓸𝓲 𝓼𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓿𝓪, 𝓭𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓰𝓾𝓪𝓽𝓸 𝓷𝓮𝓵𝓵'𝓲𝓷𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓲𝓫𝓲𝓵𝓮. 𝓣𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓬𝓲𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓸 𝓼𝓾𝓵 𝓼𝓾𝓸𝓵𝓸 𝓸𝓰𝓷𝓲 𝓿𝓸𝓵𝓽𝓪 𝓭𝓮𝓲 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓲 𝓭𝓲𝓼𝓮𝓰𝓷𝓲, 𝓾𝓷𝓪 𝓭𝓸𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓼𝓮? 𝓤𝓷 𝓾𝓸𝓶𝓸? 𝓞 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓼𝓮 𝓾𝓷𝓪 𝓭𝓸𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓮 𝓾𝓷 𝓾𝓸𝓶𝓸 𝓪𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓮𝓶𝓮. 𝓝𝓸𝓷 𝓼𝓸 𝓭𝓲𝓻𝓵𝓸, 𝓶𝓪 𝓿𝓮 𝓵𝓸 𝓭𝓲𝓼𝓮𝓰𝓷𝓸 𝓹𝓮𝓻 𝓰𝓲𝓾𝓭𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓻 𝓿𝓸𝓲 𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲. 𝓓𝓲 𝓼𝓸𝓽𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝓬𝓻𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓿𝓪 "𝓣𝓪𝓻 𝓪𝓻 𝓣𝓪𝓪𝓻𝓲", "𝓲𝓵 𝓭𝓾𝓸 𝓬𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓲 𝓯𝓪 𝓾𝓷𝓸", 𝓭𝓲𝓬𝓮𝓿𝓪. 𝓔 𝓹𝓸𝓲, 𝓸𝓰𝓷𝓲 𝓿𝓸𝓵𝓽𝓪 𝓮𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓲𝓿𝓪: "𝓞 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓶𝓮, 𝓶𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝓴𝓪𝓵. 𝓞 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓮, 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓶𝓮".
𝓟𝓸𝓲 𝓭𝓲𝓿𝓪𝓶𝓹𝓪𝓿𝓪 𝓪 𝓬𝓮𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓸 𝓾𝓷 𝓼𝓪𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓬𝓸 𝓯𝓾𝓸𝓬𝓸 𝓮 𝓼𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓿𝓪 𝓪𝓵 𝓼𝓾𝓸 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓸.

Rovhtàri e la dimora delle ombreDove le storie prendono vita. Scoprilo ora