𝚃𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚜, 𝚎𝚕 𝚎𝚜𝚏𝚞𝚎𝚛𝚣𝚘 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛ɪ́𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘 𝚎𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚙𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗̃𝚎 𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚊́𝚕𝚒𝚍𝚘𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚜 𝚌𝚞𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘 𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚗 𝚕𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚍 𝚍𝚎 𝚞𝚗 𝚍𝚎𝚍𝚊𝚕, 𝚍𝚘𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚙𝚘𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚜 𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚊 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚊 𝚕𝚊 𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚊. 𝙻𝚊 𝚊𝚍𝚖𝚒𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚘́𝚗 𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚊 𝚍𝚎 𝚞𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚕𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚊 𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚛𝚘 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚗 𝚕𝚊 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚊 𝚖𝚊́𝚜 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚎𝚜 𝚎𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚋𝚒𝚘 𝚍𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚛 𝚙𝚘𝚛 𝚞𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎 𝚍𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚎𝚛𝚍𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚘 𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚐𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚘 𝚞𝚗 𝚙𝚊𝚗̃𝚞𝚎𝚕𝚘. ¿𝚃𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚘? 𝙾𝚑, 𝚙𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚗̃𝚘 𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚊𝚓𝚘, 𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚘́ 𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚎 𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚘, 𝚊𝚗𝚘́𝚗𝚒𝚖𝚘, 𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚗𝚊́𝚗𝚒𝚖𝚘 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚊 𝚜ɪ́ 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚖𝚘. 𝚃𝚎 𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚎́ 𝚢𝚘 𝚊𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚊, 𝚕𝚘 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚓𝚘 𝚍𝚎 𝚞𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚎𝚛𝚍𝚘 𝚊 𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚊 𝚗𝚘 𝚙𝚞𝚍𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚘, 𝚕𝚘 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚙𝚞𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚎𝚋𝚎𝚛ɪ́𝚊𝚗 𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚍𝚘 𝚕𝚘 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚣 𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚒 𝚏𝚛𝚊́𝚐𝚒𝚕 𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚣𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚊. 𝙿𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚗̃𝚘 𝚙𝚊𝚗̃𝚞𝚎𝚕𝚘 𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚍𝚘, 𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚖𝚘.
𝚃𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚜, 𝚎𝚕 𝚎𝚜𝚏𝚞𝚎𝚛𝚣𝚘 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛ɪ́𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘 𝚎𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚙𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗̃𝚎 𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚊́𝚕𝚒𝚍𝚘𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚜 𝚌𝚞𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘 𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚗 𝚕𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚍 𝚍𝚎 𝚞𝚗 𝚍𝚎𝚍𝚊𝚕, 𝚍𝚘𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚙𝚘𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚜 𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚊 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚊 𝚕𝚊 𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚊. 𝙻𝚊 𝚊𝚍𝚖𝚒𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚘́𝚗 𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚊 𝚍𝚎 𝚞𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚕𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚊 𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚛𝚘 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚗 𝚕𝚊 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚊 𝚖𝚊́𝚜 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚎𝚜 𝚎𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚋𝚒𝚘 𝚍𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚛 𝚙𝚘𝚛 𝚞𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎 𝚍𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚎𝚛𝚍𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚘 𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚐𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚘 𝚞𝚗 𝚙𝚊𝚗̃𝚞𝚎𝚕𝚘. ¿𝚃𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚘? 𝙾𝚑, 𝚙𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚗̃𝚘 𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚊𝚓𝚘, 𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚘́ 𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚎 𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚘, 𝚊𝚗𝚘́𝚗𝚒𝚖𝚘, 𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚗𝚊́𝚗𝚒𝚖𝚘 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚊 𝚜ɪ́ 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚖𝚘. 𝚃𝚎 𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚎́ 𝚢𝚘 𝚊𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚊, 𝚕𝚘 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚓𝚘 𝚍𝚎 𝚞𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚎𝚛𝚍𝚘 𝚊 𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚊 𝚗𝚘 𝚙𝚞𝚍𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚘, 𝚕𝚘 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚙𝚞𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚎𝚋𝚎𝚛ɪ́𝚊𝚗 𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚍𝚘 𝚕𝚘 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚣 𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚒 𝚏𝚛𝚊́𝚐𝚒𝚕 𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚣𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚊. 𝙿𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚗̃𝚘 𝚙𝚊𝚗̃𝚞𝚎𝚕𝚘 𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚍𝚘, 𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚖𝚘.