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"𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘺 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥𝘴...𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺."

𝖫𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝖽𝖽𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗆. 𝖠𝗇 𝗎𝗇𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾, 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖿𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖨𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝖿 𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾. 𝖶𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗉𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗀𝗎𝗌𝗍.

𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗆 𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇, 𝗆𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗌𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗆𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗌 𝖨 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗌. 𝖯𝗋𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗉𝗁𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗎𝗌 𝗎𝗇𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗆𝖾𝖽.

𝖨𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗈 𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗈𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝗈𝗒 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝗎𝖻𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝗎𝗇𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝖽. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗆 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋, 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝖻𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌.

𝖥𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾, 𝖨 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝗒 𝗈𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗀𝗈𝗅𝖽. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌, 𝖨 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝖨 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗈 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗉𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍. 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖽𝗋𝗎𝗀𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝗂𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽.

𝖬𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝗂𝖽𝖽𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗆 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾. 𝖨𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗆, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗍 𝗎𝗌 𝗒𝖾𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅.

𝖠𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗆 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗎𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖨 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋, 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗉𝗎𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗎𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽. 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝗒 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌.

𝖲𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝖽𝖽𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗎𝗇𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗆 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍. 𝖨 𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅 𝗆𝗒 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾, 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗉𝗂𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗒 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋, 𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿.

𝖠𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝖨 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗑𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗎𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽. 𝖧𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗋𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇, 𝗍𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗇𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉. 𝖲𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍’𝗌 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗂𝖽, 𝗐𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖠 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍.

𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝗎𝗋, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝗆𝖾𝗅𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒. 𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝖽𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇. 𝖤𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝗆𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗒 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾. 𝖡𝖾𝗀𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝗎𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝗎𝗌 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄...𝖲𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗒 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖺𝖽𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖨 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾𝖽 𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗒 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗆 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗇𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗀𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗆𝗒 𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗒 𝖻𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝖾 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗎𝖽𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗇 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗉𝖾𝖾𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗎𝖽𝗌. 𝖥𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋, 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝗆𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖿𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀.

𝖡𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗇 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖾. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗇 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁, 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇. 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝗍𝗈𝗑 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗁𝖺𝖻 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗈𝖻𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗅𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖽. 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗁𝗌 𝗐𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗅. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗍𝗁 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅, 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽.

𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗎𝗇𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒. 𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗎𝖽𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇, 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗇𝖾. 𝖲𝗎𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖨 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇. 𝖠𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅, 𝗐𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇. 𝖤𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗆 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝖾 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒, 𝗐𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗒. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗎𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒 𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇. 𝖨𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗋𝖾𝗁𝖺𝖻𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝖾. 𝖬𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗂𝗑 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗁𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗇. 𝖶𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗌𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗅𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗁, 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾. 𝖧𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖽𝖺𝗒, 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗂𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽.

𝖬𝗒 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗎𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗆 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾, 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍. 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗆 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗏𝗂𝗏𝖾, 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗌𝗀𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗆𝖺𝗋𝖾.

𝖲𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽, 𝗒𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗑𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌. 𝖨𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗆𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌. 𝖶𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗋𝗎𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝗇, 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝖬𝗒 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝖺𝗇, 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗌𝗈 𝖻𝗂𝗀 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝖺𝖿𝖾.

𝖥𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗋𝗒 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗎𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒. 𝖠𝗌 𝖨 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗐 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖨 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗎𝗅𝗍, 𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗍 𝗎𝗌, 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖨 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖨 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖼𝗂𝖾𝗍𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗂𝗍.

𝖠𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾. 𝖨𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝖼𝗂𝖾𝗍𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆.

More than 2,200 people died of drug toxicity in 2021, and 19 of those individuals were Delta residents.  This is a crisis that has touched many families, including that of a Delta Police officer.

Former Sergeant Kevin Jones, who retired in February 2022, last saw his daughter Sara in November 2017. She died of an Opiate overdose in January 2018, at age 28 leaving behind two young children.  

Looking back now, he describes the ordeal his family experienced as that of having a total loss of control. “As a police officer, I wasn’t prepared for how powerless I would feel in the face of what happened to Sara,” he says.

In her early twenties Sara sought medical assistance for endometriosis – an often painful condition. Her doctors prescribed her Oxycontin to deal with the pain. But after five years of prescriptions, and a range of doctors, her access to the opioid was cut off. Over time, opioid users need higher doses of the drug, as their bodies become accustomed to it. By the time her prescriptions were stopped, Sgt. Jones describes her dosage as being high enough to kill a first time user. 

“When her family doctor cut her off, Sara began doctor shopping to get access to painkillers, and increasingly feigned illness and made ER hospital visits in order to get new prescriptions." 

After being cut off from legal access Sara started to access street drugs. "This was the beginning of the end,” says Sgt. Jones. Sara left school – where she’d been studying to become a Licensed Practical Nurse. She also left her husband. 

Sara never admitted that she was addicted to opioids. “She’d say, my body needs them, but my mind doesn’t need them,” says Sgt. Jones, recounting a conversation with Sara. “She’d justify herself, saying she didn’t look like a crack addict.” He pauses, then adds, “She was a beautiful girl."

"The drug just took over. It took over control of her life." 

He says there were very limited resources he or the family could turn to, to get help for Sara. And he thinks even if Sara had been open to entering a full-time recovery program that it might have taken a year or more, to wean Sara off drugs, and build enough supports in place to deal with the inevitable cravings that would continue to happen. 

He’s speaking out now to contribute to the conversation about opioid use, drug toxicity and deaths.  “We need to talk about this issue more. Families are suffering.”

The City of Delta, Tsawwassen First Nation, Delta Police Department, Fraser Health Authority and Delta School District are organizing a Community Forum the evening of April 13, to talk about the opioid crisis and how to reduce the stigma surrounding substance use. There will be exhibitors, speakers talking about their lived experience, and an opportunity for questions and answers. The Forum will also include the opportunity to receive Nalaxone training. Please go to Eventbrite for more information and register to attend. (Note registration is optional, but helps organizers with planning). 

My name is Phil Kristofic. I've lived in delta for 38 years, I'm 41years old. For 23 of those years I was a daily opiate user. My addiction nearly destroyed me and I almost lost everything. Opiates ruled my life. It was the only thing I needed everyday to feel normal. I woke up thinking of when I would use or how I would get it and went to sleep thinking the same way.

My life had become unmanageable. If I didn't have it I would become sick and couldn't work or have to leave early to get some. It became extremely difficult to hold down a steady job. I had disappointed so many people that cared about me so many times that the shame of my actions and my decisions almost ended my life. I felt alone and disconnected.

In 2021 I hit my rock bottom. It was that moment and a moment of amazing compassion that made me realize I needed more help than I had asked for in the past. Friends and family helped me find supports available for me. I went to a withdrawal management center then went to treatment. I can honestly say it was the best decision of my life. During treatment I was brutally honest with myself and began to share my past, my feelings and my emotions. It was a tough road but a road totally worth taking.

Today I'm proud to say I am almost 2 years clean and sober. I help run a shop in Tilbury and since Feb 2023 I've also been the peer coordinator for the Delta community action team. Today I use my experiences and the life I've led and lead to try and help others. To anyone struggling with substance use problems please reach out. The courage to share our experiences, our struggles and our success gives strength to ourselves and to others. Your story could help change lives.

My daughter, Jessica was a beautiful human being, both inside and out. She was a passionate high school teacher, partner, and mom. She was compassionate, kind, intelligent, and a champion of the underdog. She was recipient of the “UBC most promising teacher” award in 2012. Jessica was also a victim of assault and trauma in her early teens. In her late 20s, she began using substances to ease her emotional pain. Jessica was in recovery and 10 months sober before she passed away unexpectedly on April 22, 2018. She was only 34 years old. 

Jessica’s journey with opioids began with her partner. They were both looking for an escape from their past traumas. As it so happened, a friend of theirs was being prescribed 800 mg of opioids per day, which he was using himself, sharing with his partner, Jessica and her partner, and selling the remainder on the street. Jessica and her partner also became parents during this time to a beautiful daughter. Now addicted to opioids and unable to take time away from their jobs in order to recover, when their friend’s physician stopped prescribing the opioids, Jessica and her partner began purchasing them illegally, and when they became either too expensive or unavailable, they turned to smoking heroin. 

It was as if the stars were aligned, in a bad way, because around that time, fentanyl began creeping into the picture. While on the oxycontin, both Jessica and her partner were able to hold down their jobs because they knew how much they were ingesting, but when fentanyl came into the picture and they didn’t know the dose of opioids, things began to unravel. They began a roller coaster ride from addiction to recovery and back and forth until they both decided it would be better if they lived apart. Jessica’s partner moved back to be with family on the island where it was seamless and stigma free in receiving OAT (Opioid Agonist Therapy) in the form of suboxone from his family physician. For Jessica, it was a different story. 

Living in a middle class community in South Delta as a teacher and a mom, Jessica suffered from self stigma and worried about stigma from others should they discover she was using opioids. She was too ashamed to confide in her family physician and so I spent months looking for treatment options to no avail. Contacts listed on the internet often proved to be a dead end. Because she had a child, she did not want to be away in a treatment facility. When she was finally able to disclose her struggles with her family physician, she was referred to an addictions specialist which also proved ineffective. 

Because the addictions specialist worked out of the Surrey OAT clinic, in a community foreign to Jessica, I would need to drive her there with toddler in tow, where she waited in line for hours for a prescription in an environment that was not suited to her, never mind a toddler. There, she was also treated with judgement by staff. When Jessica received her prescription, she was forced to daily witnessed ingestion at her local pharmacy which was both humiliating and stigmatizing. Suffice it to say, where suboxone therapy worked wonders for her partner, it did not work for Jessica, and so, on the only other advice her physician could offer, we paid out of pocket for her to see a psychologist. 

We had tried government appointed counsellors, but they neither gave her the compassion she needed nor the time. Jessica also began an exercising program — boxing, which worked wonders for her self esteem and coping. With regard to her psychologist, because of self stigma and concern she might lose her job if the truth about her opioid use disorder was disclosed — the psychologist was required to fill out an absence of leave from work form — Jessica felt she was only able to disclose that she had anxiety and failed to talk about her struggles with opioids. 

More worry about stigma and too ashamed of herself to admit it. Still the psychologist visits did help and combined with exercise and family support, Jessica was able to remain sober for 10 months. She went back to work after 3 months of sobriety. On April 18th, Jessica suffered another trauma and it was then she relapsed and began using substances again to ease her pain. On April 22nd, 2018 she went dancing with her friends. That night she used opioids which, unbeknownst to her, were poisoned with fentanyl. Jessica died just before bedtime. The coroner’s report stated cause of death was fentanyl poisoning. 

What I learned… When Jessica’s most recent trauma occurred and she relapsed, had she had access to a safe supply of the substance that helped her cope, she would still be parenting her sweet little girl, and teaching today. My first born daughter would still be in my life and in the lives of loved ones and friends. Safe supply means the person dependent on substances does not need to worry about being poisoned with fentanyl and it also reduces stigma attached to using illegal drugs. Even if there is no trauma, relapses happen in many scenarios, such as in alcohol abuse or even being on a strict diet. 

People using substances such as food or alcohol for coping do not need to worry if they begin to regress, their consequences will end in imminent death. After Jessica passed, I was interviewed by the CBC about Jessica’s story in order to raise awareness. It was featured on the CBC Early Edition. As a teacher, and compassionate human being, Jessica would have wanted others to learn from her experience. Her story can be read online and on YouTube by searching for “Jessica’s Secret CBC.”