𝚑𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚐𝚕𝚒 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚒 𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚒 𝚍𝚊 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚊, 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚒 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚒 𝚏𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔, 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒 𝚊𝚒 𝚖𝚒𝚎𝚒 𝚘𝚌𝚌𝚑𝚒. 𝚁𝚒𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚘 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎. 𝙽𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚒 𝚗𝚎𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚘 𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚘 𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎. 𝚐𝚒𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒? 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚒? 𝚞𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚘. 𝙽𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚒 𝚊𝚟𝚞𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚘 𝚍𝚒 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚘 𝚊𝚒 𝚖𝚒𝚎𝚒 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒. 𝙼𝚒 𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚘 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎, 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚎 𝚍𝚒 𝚐𝚒𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚒 𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚐𝚗𝚒. 𝙼𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚣𝚊 𝚋𝚊𝚖𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚒, 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚘 𝚞𝚗𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚊. 𝙼𝚘𝚕𝚝𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎 𝚖𝚒 𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚊, 𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚎𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚘 𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚒. 𝙼𝚒 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚟𝚊 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚎, 𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚊. 𝙲𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚒 𝚏𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚊 𝚗𝚎𝚞𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚛𝚊 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚎? 𝙴𝚛𝚘 𝚒𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚊? 𝙸𝚕 𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚘 𝚎𝚛𝚊 𝚒𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎, 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚊𝚕 𝚋𝚕𝚞 𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚕 𝚐𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘. 𝙽𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚟𝚘 𝚙𝚘𝚒 𝚌𝚘𝚜ì 𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎, 𝚖𝚊 𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚟𝚘 𝚒𝚕 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚘. 𝙽𝚘𝚗 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚘 𝚜𝚒𝚊 𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚘𝚕𝚝𝚘. 𝙲𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚜à 𝚌𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚘 𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚟𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚕 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚘. 𝙷𝚘 𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚛𝚒 𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚒 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚒, 𝚙𝚎𝚛ò 𝚙𝚒ù 𝚌𝚞𝚙𝚒. 𝙸 𝚖𝚒𝚎𝚒 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒 𝚖𝚒 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚘 𝚍𝚒 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚊 𝚊 𝚍𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚊 𝚞𝚗𝚊 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚍𝚊𝚒 𝚌𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒 𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚌𝚒, 𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚒. 𝙰𝚟𝚎𝚟𝚊 𝚞𝚗 𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚘, 𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚘. 𝙼𝚒 𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚘 𝚕𝚊 𝚜𝚞𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊 𝚍𝚒 𝚌𝚎𝚌𝚒, 𝚍𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚘 𝚗𝚎𝚕 𝚟𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚒 𝚌𝚎𝚌𝚒 𝚙𝚒ù 𝚜𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚒. 𝙻𝚒 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚟𝚘 "𝚌𝚎𝚌𝚒 𝚊𝚗𝚣𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚒." 𝙼𝚒 𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚊 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘 𝚗𝚎𝚖𝚘 𝚒𝚗 𝚃𝚅. 𝙰𝚟𝚎𝚟𝚊 𝚞𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚕 𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚘, 𝚞𝚗𝚊 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚊.
𝙼𝚊 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚑é 𝚖𝚒 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚘 𝚒𝚗 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚕 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚘, 𝚍𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚊? 𝙳𝚊 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚊 𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝚕𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚟𝚘, 𝚖𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚕 𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚘 𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚝𝚊 𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚒. 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚒 𝚌𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚞𝚝𝚝'𝚘𝚐𝚐𝚒 𝚖𝚒 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎.
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