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𝙼𝚢 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚘𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚎, 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚎. 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙 𝙸 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚟𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚍𝚛𝚢 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜, 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚗, 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚞𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎; 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚕𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚌 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚜. 𝙻𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕, 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚖𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚕𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚒𝚛. 𝙸 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝, 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚛𝚝.
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚍; 𝚗𝚘𝚠, 𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚕. 𝙰𝚗 𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚘 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝. 𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝙸 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜. 𝙻𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚓𝚘𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚏𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗.
𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖, 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎, 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚠, 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙸 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎. 𝙸 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚖𝚢𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚞𝚘𝚞𝚜. 𝙼𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎, 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚢𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚢, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚜. 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢.
𝙵𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚕𝚞𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚎𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚖𝚎. 𝙰𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝, 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎, 𝚑𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎, 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢. 𝙸𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 ‘𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎’. 𝙰 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚣𝚎 𝚝𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚜 𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚜 𝙸 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎, 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎, 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚎, 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢. 𝙸 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍, 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎.
Come ɑnd pɑɾticipɑte becɑuse γou still hɑve, time…
A Pictuɾe Is Woɾth A Thousɑnd Woɾds
Dedicɑted to ɑll those poets who contɾibute, dɑγ bγ dɑγ, to mɑke ouɾ plɑnet ɑ betteɾ woɾld.
𝙼𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚞𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚜 𝚎𝚗 𝚞𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚘𝚜 𝚍𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚜. 𝙻𝚘𝚜 𝚣𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚘𝚜, 𝚞𝚗𝚊 𝚟𝚎𝚣 𝚏𝚞𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚜, 𝚊𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚊 𝚎𝚜𝚝á𝚗 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚎 𝚞𝚗 𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚘 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚘 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚣𝚌𝚕𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚗 𝚎𝚕 𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚟𝚘 𝚍𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚘 𝚊 𝚖𝚒 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍𝚘𝚛. 𝙲𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚘 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚍𝚒 𝚍𝚎𝚓ó 𝚑𝚞𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚜 𝚟𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚎𝚗 𝚎𝚕 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚘 𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚘 𝚍𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚓𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚜, 𝚝í𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚕 𝚘𝚝𝚘ñ𝚘, 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚘 𝚜𝚒 𝚑𝚞𝚋𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚊 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚣𝚊𝚍𝚘 𝚎𝚗 𝚞𝚗 𝚖𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚍𝚎 𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚒ó𝚗 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚍𝚊.
𝙻𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚌𝚒ó𝚗 𝚎𝚜 𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚊ñ𝚊; 𝚕𝚘 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚘 𝚍𝚎 𝚕𝚊 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚊 𝚍𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚌𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚣𝚌𝚕𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚗 𝚕𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚣 𝚍𝚎𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚛 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚋𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚜. 𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚊 𝚊𝚋𝚊𝚓𝚘, 𝚎𝚕 𝚖𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚍𝚘, 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚘 𝚜𝚒 𝚎𝚕 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚘 𝚍𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚜 𝚢 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚘𝚜 𝚜𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚋𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚘 𝚎𝚗 𝚎𝚕 𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚎. 𝙴𝚗𝚌𝚞𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚣𝚘𝚜 𝚍𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚕 𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚘𝚜 𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚘𝚜, 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚘 𝚜𝚒 𝚎𝚕 𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚞𝚋𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚓𝚊𝚛 𝚜𝚞 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚊 𝚘𝚋𝚛𝚊 𝚍𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎.
𝙴𝚕 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚕 𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚎 𝚑𝚊 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚘; 𝚊𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚊, 𝚞𝚗 𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚝á𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚘. 𝚄𝚗 𝚎𝚌𝚘 𝚍𝚎 𝚕𝚊 𝚊𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚕 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚘. 𝙼𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚚𝚞é 𝚑𝚊𝚋𝚛á 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚍𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚊 𝚎𝚗 𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚘 𝚍𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜. 𝙼𝚒𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚖𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚜, 𝚞𝚗𝚊 𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚊 𝚍𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚛í𝚊 𝚢 𝚞𝚗 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘 𝚍𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚐𝚘 𝚖á𝚜 𝚘𝚜𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚘 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎 𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚛 𝚍𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚊.
𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚎, 𝚗𝚘 𝚜é 𝚚𝚞é á𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚕𝚘, 𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚋𝚊 𝚘 𝚊𝚋𝚊𝚓𝚘, 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚞𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘 𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚕. 𝙼𝚎 𝚟𝚎𝚘 𝚊 𝚖í 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚖𝚊 𝚜𝚘𝚋𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚊 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚛, 𝚌𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚒𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚘. 𝙼𝚒 𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘, 𝚗𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚛𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚎, 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚘 𝚜é 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚒 𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚖í𝚊, 𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚜 𝚣𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚜 𝚢 𝚖𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚌𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜. 𝙳ó𝚗𝚍𝚎 𝚎𝚜𝚝á 𝚕𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚖á𝚜 𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚋𝚛í𝚊 𝚖𝚒 𝚌𝚞𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚘.
𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘 𝚍𝚎 𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚊 𝚢 𝚊𝚣𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜. 𝙴𝚜𝚊 𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚍 𝚍𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚜 𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚎á𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚊 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚊 𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚋𝚛𝚎. 𝙾𝚝𝚛𝚊 𝚕𝚞𝚣, 𝚖á𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚊, 𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚋𝚛𝚎 𝚖í, 𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚊 𝚎𝚕 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚘. 𝙰 𝚕𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚓𝚘𝚜, 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚞𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚜 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚗 “𝚟𝚎𝚗”. 𝚄𝚗𝚊 𝚝𝚒𝚋𝚒𝚊 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚊 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚊 𝚢 𝚖𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚘 𝚊 𝚕𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚞𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚜 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚗, 𝚖𝚎 𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚗, 𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚛á𝚜 𝚍𝚎 𝚖í, 𝚝𝚘𝚍𝚘 𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚎. 𝚈𝚊 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚘, 𝚕𝚊 𝚖𝚞𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚊 𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚊𝚍𝚘 𝚊 𝚕𝚊 𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚊 𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊.
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