𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦́𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪 𝘮𝘰𝘪-𝘮𝘦̂𝘮𝘦 𝘫𝘦 𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘴 ?
𝘈𝘷𝘦𝘤 𝘶𝘯𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪 𝘥'𝘦́𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘦 𝘫𝘦 𝘯𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘶𝘹 𝘱𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘭𝘶𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘪𝘵𝘴.
𝘈𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘫𝘦 𝘷𝘢𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘫𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘦 : 𝘦́𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘳𝘦
𝘌𝘭𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘪𝘵. 𝘖𝘶𝘪, 𝘶𝘯 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘦𝘵 𝘭𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘪𝘵, 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦 𝘶𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘭. 𝘌𝘭𝘭𝘦 𝘦́𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘦, 𝘢̀ 𝘭𝘦𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘤𝘰̂𝘵𝘦́𝘴 𝘦𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘦̂𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢̀ 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘤𝘶𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘣𝘦̂𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘴. 𝘌𝘭𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘦́𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘵, 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘮𝘦́𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘦𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘦́𝘱𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘵.
𝘜𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘦́𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘻 𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘦, 𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴 𝘢̀ 𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘶 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳. 𝘌𝘭𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘢 𝘮𝘦̀𝘳𝘦, 𝘢𝘪𝘥𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘦̀𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘦𝘶𝘳𝘴.
𝘔𝘢𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦̀𝘴 𝘭𝘢 𝘯𝘶𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘣𝘦́𝘦, 𝘶𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘪𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘭𝘢 𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘦, 𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘦 𝘴'𝘦𝘧𝘧𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘵. 𝘓𝘦𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘴'𝘦́𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘦𝘶𝘹 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦 𝘴𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘢𝘪𝘵. 𝘌𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘷𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘦́ 𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘲𝘶'𝘶𝘯 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭'𝘢𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘴 𝘤'𝘦́𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘯 𝘦́𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤, 𝘤'𝘦́𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘪 𝘢𝘪𝘥𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘴 𝘭'𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦.
𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘯𝘶𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘦́𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘭𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘫𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘪 𝘥𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯 𝘯'𝘦́𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘵.
𝘚𝘰𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘦𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘵. 𝙈𝙤𝙣 𝙘𝙤𝙚𝙪𝙧 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙩.
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