28/12/2025
“𝚂𝚊𝚞𝚍𝚊𝚍𝚎… 𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊 𝚙𝚊𝚕𝚊𝚟𝚛𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚜𝚊 𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚎, 𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚘́𝚒 𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚘. 𝙴́ 𝚘 𝚎𝚌𝚘 𝚍𝚎 𝚞𝚖 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚘 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚊 𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎̂𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚘, 𝚎́ 𝚘 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚞𝚖𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚘 𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎 𝚎𝚖 𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚛, 𝚎́ 𝚘 𝚝𝚘𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚊𝚍𝚘 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚖𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚖 𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚎, 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚖𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚖 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌̧𝚊.
𝙴𝚕𝚊 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚊 𝚗𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚜, 𝚗𝚘 𝚌𝚊𝚏𝚎́ 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚓𝚊́ 𝚗𝚊̃𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚖 𝚘 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚖𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚛, 𝚗𝚊 𝚖𝚞́𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚊 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚊 𝚍𝚎 𝚗𝚘́𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚘 𝚜𝚎 𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚘 𝚗𝚊̃𝚘 𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚍𝚘. 𝚂𝚊𝚞𝚍𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚎́ 𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚊 𝚒𝚗𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚊, 𝚎́ 𝚕𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚌̧𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚊 𝚊 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚛, 𝚎́ 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚌̧𝚊̃𝚘 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚊 𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚖 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚊𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚌̧𝚊𝚛 𝚘 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚓𝚊́ 𝚏𝚘𝚒.
𝙴 𝚑𝚊́ 𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚖 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚊 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚐𝚊 𝚍𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚑𝚘, 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘-𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚘 𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚘 𝚏𝚎𝚒𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚊 𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚊, 𝚜𝚘́ 𝚙𝚛𝚊 𝚕𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚛 — 𝚌𝚘𝚖 𝚟𝚘𝚣 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚊 — 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚘 𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚛, 𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚎́ 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚘, 𝚗𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚊 𝚟𝚊𝚒 𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚊 𝚙𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚘. 𝙴𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚞𝚍𝚊 𝚍𝚎 𝚕𝚞𝚐𝚊𝚛, 𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚊 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘 𝚍𝚊 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎, 𝚏𝚎𝚒𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚊, 𝚏𝚎𝚒𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚌̧𝚊̃𝚘, 𝚏𝚎𝚒𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚎𝚖 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊 𝚍𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚊..”
