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𝓙𝓮𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓽 (𝓟𝓪𝓰 6)
𝓐𝓬𝓱𝓸 𝓺𝓾𝓮 𝓳𝓪́ 𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓰𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓸 𝓷𝓸 𝓶𝓮𝓾 𝓵𝓲𝓶𝓲𝓽𝓮. 𝓙𝓪́ 𝓼𝓮 𝓿𝓪𝓲 𝓪 𝓼𝓮𝓰𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓪 𝓼𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓪 𝓮 𝓿𝓸𝓬𝓮̂ 𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓪 𝓷𝓪̃𝓸 𝓶𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓮 𝓷𝓪𝓭𝓪, 𝓪𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓪𝓼 𝓻𝓮𝓹𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓸𝓼 𝓪𝓼 𝓶𝓮𝓼𝓶𝓪𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓲𝓼𝓪𝓼 𝓭𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓸, 𝓭𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓸 𝓮 𝓭𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓸...
𝓔𝓼𝓽𝓪́ 𝓭𝓲𝓯𝓲𝓬𝓲𝓵 𝓪𝓽𝓮́ 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓪 𝓮𝓷𝔁𝓮𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓻, 𝓹𝓸𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓮𝓾𝓼 𝓸𝓵𝓱𝓸𝓼 𝓭𝓸𝓮𝓶, 𝓭𝓸𝓮𝓶 𝓶𝓾𝓲𝓽𝓸 𝓭𝓮 𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓪𝓻. 𝓐 𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓮𝔃𝓪 𝓶𝓮 𝓮𝓼𝓶𝓪𝓰𝓪 𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓪 𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓪, 𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓺𝓾𝓮 𝓪𝓰𝓸𝓻𝓪 𝓳𝓪́ 𝓷𝓮𝓶 𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓾 𝓶𝓪𝓲𝓼 𝓪𝓺𝓾𝓲 𝓹𝓸𝓻𝓺𝓾𝓮 𝓮𝓾 𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓻𝓸, 𝓮 𝓼𝓲𝓶 𝓹𝓸𝓻𝓺𝓾𝓮 𝓳𝓪́ 𝓷𝓪̃𝓸 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓰𝓸 𝓼𝓪𝓲𝓻.
𝓜𝓮 𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓪 𝓺𝓾𝓮 𝓮𝓾 𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓳𝓪 𝓪𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓶 𝓮 𝓿𝓸𝓬𝓮̂ 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓾𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓸 𝓮𝓶 𝓷𝓪̃𝓸 𝓶𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓻 𝓷𝓪𝓭𝓪. 𝓔𝓾 𝓷𝓪̃𝓸 𝓼𝓸𝓾 𝓲𝓭𝓲𝓸𝓽𝓪, 𝓙𝓮𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓽, 𝓮 𝓷𝓪̃𝓸 𝓿𝓸𝓾 𝓯𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓻 𝓬𝓸𝓶 𝓿𝓸𝓬𝓮̂ 𝓮𝓷𝓺𝓾𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓷𝓪̃𝓸 𝓪𝓭𝓶𝓲𝓽𝓲𝓻 𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮 𝓮𝓻𝓻𝓸...
𝓔𝓾 𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓿𝓪 𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓸, 𝓯𝓸𝓲 𝓺𝓾𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓸 𝓽𝓮 𝓸𝓾𝓿𝓲 𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓰𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓸 𝓷𝓸 𝓺𝓾𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝓪𝓲𝓼 𝓾𝓶𝓪 𝓿𝓮𝔃. 𝓒𝓸𝓶𝓸 𝓯𝓪𝔃 𝓽𝓸𝓭𝓸𝓼 𝓸𝓼 𝓭𝓲𝓪𝓼.
- 𝓐𝓶𝓸𝓻... 𝓥𝓸𝓬𝓮̂ 𝓽𝓮𝓶 𝓬𝓮𝓻𝓽𝓮𝔃𝓪 𝓺𝓾𝓮 𝓷𝓪̃𝓸 𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓻 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓻 𝓪𝓵𝓰𝓾𝓶𝓪 𝓬𝓸𝓲𝓼𝓪? - 𝓥𝓸𝓬𝓮̂ 𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓪. 𝓤𝓶 𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓸 𝓼𝓸𝓫𝓮 𝓹𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓸𝓭𝓸 𝓸 𝓶𝓮𝓾 𝓬𝓸𝓻𝓹𝓸, 𝓾𝓶𝓪 𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓮𝔃𝓪, 𝓾𝓶𝓪 𝓿𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓭𝓮 𝓭𝓮 𝓹𝓾𝓵𝓪𝓻 𝓷𝓸𝓼 𝓼𝓮𝓾𝓼 𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓬̧𝓸𝓼 𝓮 𝓽𝓮 𝓪𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓬̧𝓪𝓻... 𝓜𝓪𝓼, 𝓷𝓪̃𝓸. 𝓜𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓱𝓸 𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓮𝓽𝓸, 𝓲𝓶𝓸́𝓿𝓮𝓵, 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓸 𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻 𝓭𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓸. 𝓜𝓪𝓼 𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓿𝓪 𝓽𝓮 𝓸𝓾𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓸, 𝓙𝓮𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓽. 𝓔𝓾 𝓽𝓮 𝓸𝓾𝓿𝓲 𝓽𝓸𝓭𝓪𝓼 𝓪𝓼 𝓿𝓮𝔃𝓮𝓼, 𝓮 𝓮𝓶 𝓽𝓸𝓭𝓪𝓼 𝓮𝓾 𝓮𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓲 𝓽𝓮 𝓸𝓾𝓿𝓲𝓻 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓻 𝓸 𝓺𝓾𝓮 𝓯𝓮𝔃.
