Trafford's Trading Club

Chapter 860: Chapter 104: The Real Mainland “Everything of yours will return to its original track.” …

As if something was pulling her, Caroline felt as if there was a strange force of suction inside her, pulling ‘her’ from the outside in—to the inside of her body.

She suddenly woke up—but she found she was not in the corridor of that school building. It was dim here, with the sound of a projector playing… She had been to this place.

This was the projection room of the school that 403 had taken her to—Caroline began checking her body… there were no injuries.

But she clearly remembered what happened before she fainted… Did everything return to its original track? “Awake?” The door of the projection room opened, and walking in was none other than 403, whom Caroline knew.

At this time, 403 wasn’t wearing that cheap-looking human-skin mask, and the bandaged face still gave Caroline a chill no matter how many times she saw it. “I… why am I here?” Caroline asked instinctively. 403 said, “You fainted in the corridor, so I brought you to this place.”

The corridor… Caroline closed her eyes and shook her head vigorously, the scene of the whole floor being destroyed was vivid in her mind, “The corridor… what happened to that floor?” “What happened?” 403 looked at Caroline curiously, “Nothing, I just brought you back, and incidentally, brought them back too.” “Them…” Caroline was startled, suddenly thinking of something, she hurriedly walked to the window of the projector and looked outside.

On the stage below, at some unknown time, a huge cage was placed, and inside the cage were several people… Arno, Harry, and Boston.

They seemed to have fainted as well.

Caroline suddenly turned back to look at 403, she didn’t know what he wanted to do next, just feeling that his gaze was completely unlike that of a human. “You… do you want to kill them?” Caroline asked as she looked at 403. 403 shook his head, “I just want them to experience fear and despair, and some things more painful than death.”

At this moment, 403 reached out, brushing past Caroline’s cheek, this action made Caroline jump, but it turned out 403 didn’t want to grab her, he merely intended to press the button behind her on the wall—the button for the lights on the stage below.

Snap, snap.

One by one the lights were turned on, the spotlights began to gather on the huge cage on the stage, illuminating Arno and the other two.

At this moment, 403 moved the projector over and then took a film reel, loading it into the projector. He started it, the old-fashioned projector began to turn slowly, reel after reel moving under Caroline’s eyes.

Caroline began to hear some sounds… she looked towards the curtain on the stage.

The yellowed image quality seemed somewhat old… like footage from a documentary.

A woman was holding a child… a child perhaps five or six years old, with a face full of smiles, she looked toward the lens, holding the child’s hand, waving at the camera.

Caroline saw the house in the background, she felt it was familiar, then suddenly remembered, this was the house she initially followed Arno to… the old house where Arno was born and raised. “Hey, little Harry, look at the camera, look at daddy.” The woman was so fond of the child, kissing his cheek, “Little Harry, greet your brother, won’t you?”

Caroline realized this film must be a family-style documentary, the one holding the camera was probably the woman’s husband.

The lens began to turn, another child came into view. The two children looked almost alike, aside from their clothes, they were nearly indistinguishable. “It’s them… them when they were young!” Caroline instinctively glanced at 403. 403 watched the film, saying blandly, “Look at them, so small, just like angels, don’t you think?”

At this point, the little Harry being held by the woman suddenly turned his face, kissing the woman’s cheek, making her burst into joyous laughter. “Look at you, little Harry, just like a little gentleman, so obedient, mommy really loves you. You are my son. Of course, my little Arno is great too! Having you both makes me completely satisfied!”

The documentary continued to play, occasionally featuring family games, even Caroline as an outsider could feel the cozy atmosphere of this family.

She suddenly recalled her own childhood… Remembering before her father died from a stray bullet in a gang fight, the three of them seemed to be just like this. “Why… why are you showing me this?” Caroline frowned. “No, no, no, I’m not showing it to you.” 403 shook his head and pointed at the cage on the stage, “It’s for them to see. I’m just adjusting the image to get the best angle.” “How… how did you get these things?” Caroline asked instinctively. “Finding this kind of stuff, it’s not that hard,” 403 said blandly, “It depends on whether you have the heart to find it, whether you want to find, and whether you want to do.” 403 began to rewind the film, saying slowly, “My original plan was different, but it seems something happened. This Harry actually came out ahead of time, so there are some things I didn’t have time to show him… But it doesn’t matter. Perhaps watching this would be better… surely, my mood would also be much worse. But compared with what’s to come… it seems it doesn’t matter anymore. Because I’m already struggling to control myself, which is not a good thing.”

Saying that, 403 suddenly pushed up the volume control, making the audio equipment around the stage incredibly shrill. Caroline had no choice but to cover her ears.

At the same time, due to the impact of the shrill sound, Arno and the other two in the cage gradually regained consciousness.

Boston was the first to wake up, discovering he was locked in a cage, he quickly stood up, instinctively reaching for his waist—but after realizing his gun was missing, he broke into a cold sweat. “Who!! Who is here! Who!!” Boston grabbed the iron bars of the cage, shouting angrily. “Stop yelling! I have a headache!” Arno patted his own head, and supported himself standing up, beginning to survey the surroundings.

Harry sat up, his eyes vacant, yet he kept looking at the cage containing himself, not knowing what he was thinking—at this moment, from the projection room above the seats, a beam of light suddenly shone.

The light went through Arno’s body, projecting onto the screen behind him… sounds accompanied the light. —”Hey, little Harry, look at the camera, look at daddy.”

Suddenly hearing this sound, Arno’s eyes opened wide, rapidly turning around. —”Little Harry, greet your brother, won’t you?”

On the screen, the young little Harry at this moment waved his hand, as though his eyes were being magnified indefinitely… due to the poor filming technique, the entire shot was filled with this child’s face.

Arno suddenly fell back, his body hitting the cage. His breathing became rapid… instinctively, he turned his gaze aside… instinctively looking at Harry, who was also raising his head to watch the screen projection.

And at this moment, Harry slowly turned his head, looking at Arno…

Suddenly, the eyes of the two brothers met, and Arno quickly stepped aside. “Let me out!!!!”

In an instant, Harry sprang up and lunged at Arno’s neck with both hands, unleashing a beast-like roar — he even bit Arno’s ear in one swift move.

Ah—!!!

Arno let out a piercing scream, his left ear was forcibly bitten off by Harry. He fell to the ground in agony — Harry’s mouth was full of blood, with the fresh ear still within it, making him appear like a terrifying devil. “This… monster!” Witnessing such a scene, Boston was also scared pale.

Harry suddenly stared at Boston, and in the throes of massive fear, Boston’s savage nature was provoked, and he lunged at Harry, “Freak! Die!” “Don’t call me a freak!!!!!!”

Normal people, even while angry and fearful, cannot surpass a maniac. At this moment, Harry’s face was covered in blood, seeming to be unaware of pain, possessing strength beyond that of ordinary humans.

Boston used his trained fists to punch Harry’s face repeatedly, almost breaking Harry’s nasal bridge, busting his lips, but unable to make Harry falter.

Harry seized an opportunity to bite Boston’s throat…ting, the ruptured artery in the neck splashed out a terrifying amount of blood.

Ah…

Shrieking, Caroline could no longer bear to watch this bloody scene, her body trembling a bit from fear… She looked fearfully at 403’s current state, only to see 403 with a look of uncontainable pleasure in his eyes.

He… he had found a bag of beef jerky from somewhere, and was eating it with gusto. Seeing Caroline looking at him, he even smiled slightly and said, “Oh, do you want some?”

Smelling that beef flavor, Caroline suddenly felt nauseous… She quietly pressed against the wall, intending to head towards the door of the projection room. “The play hasn’t ended yet, leaving so soon?” 403 said without turning back, “Finish watching it. I said, once this is over, I will prove your innocence… Don’t give me a reason not to treat you well.”

Nervously, Caroline nodded, stopping in her tracks.

But she dared not look at the scene unfolding on the stage anymore… she could only clearly hear Harry’s voice, maybe Arno’s voice… Boston, Boston might already be dead.

In such a situation, Caroline did not think Boston could survive. “Why… why don’t you appear in front of them?” Caroline suddenly asked, a question she couldn’t understand herself — couldn’t understand why she wanted to ask such a question. “Fear comes from the unknown.” 403 said calmly, “Not letting them know why they’re trapped in the cage, not letting them know who’s behind this, the unknown… will strip Arno of his arrogance. When everything slips beyond his control, he will become helpless, even ignorant, and fear’s abyss will devour him.” “You… seem to know him well.” Caroline looked at 403, a name wishing to slip from her lips: Lucas.

But she never voiced this name… Neither trying to provoke nor investigate his background, staying sensible, is almost survival’s most important principle as a prostitute. “Who are you!!!!!! Let go!! Let go!!! You freak!! Let go!! I let you out!! Let go!! Ah—!!! Monster!! You monster!!! Let… let me go… let me go… let…”

It was Arno’s roar, mixed with unhidable fear despite the anger, even from this distance, even without seeing him, Caroline’s every cell seemed to feel Arno’s fear.

Everything was exactly as 403 had said.

Caroline began to cover her ears, curling up in a corner, afraid to hear the voices of the brothers on stage at this moment.

At some point, Caroline seemed to have stopped hearing Arno’s voice, even Harry’s voice. Outside, only the sound of a family movie played by the projector was heard.

Their mother’s voice. “Hey, little Harry, look at the camera, look at Dad.” “Look at you, little Harry, just like a little gentleman, so obedient, Mom really likes you.”

Time passed by bit by bit, and when Caroline let go of her ears, she found 403 seemed to be crying, staring blankly outside the playback window.

Perhaps he was watching the movie on the screen, or perhaps watching everything on the stage — and everything on the stage, Caroline wanted to forget. “Let’s go, don’t linger on the past.” 403 suddenly came in front of Caroline, reaching out to her… He pulled Caroline up, slowly saying, “It’s time to end.”

Afterward, Caroline watched 403 fetch several buckets of gasoline.

He poured gasoline onto the stage, soaking Boston, Arno, and Harry… Harry was still alive, but Arno had already fallen.

Arno fell with his back to Caroline, so she couldn’t see what Arno looked like at this moment. But she thought to herself, this way is good, not seeing means not thinking too much.

She knew this might be self-deception… but how many people could live without deceiving themselves?

Yet Harry was like a beast again, driven into another frenzy. 403 acted as if he couldn’t see, but in Caroline’s view, he seemed blind. 403 finally set a fire, the rampant flames began to burn the seats here, then spread towards the projection room, towards the stage. 403 donned his shoddy human-skin mask again, slowly walking outside. Caroline suddenly felt this might be the last time she saw 403’s bandaged face… even, possibly the last time seeing this vengeful devil.

But even if he is a devil, Caroline had no choice but to follow 403’s footsteps, for no other reason, since there’s only one way out. “I suggest you don’t visit 403’s dorm anymore.” On the way, 403 suddenly said to Caroline, “Come with me, I will give you what I promised.”

Caroline followed 403 walking through the campus, the black night seemed unable to stop 403’s steps, he easily avoided the people on the road — those who started rushing because they discovered the fire.

But Caroline knew, even if they make it to the scene, they couldn’t save anyone — because she clearly remembered, when she left, Harry had almost become a ‘fire person’.

Perhaps, nothing compares to the flames consuming evil, when the fire extinguishes, everything will turn to ashes, leaving no trace.

She followed 403 to a place, a pump house in the critical male dormitory area… When the pump house door opened, Caroline saw leftover food scraps, a large cardboard box piled up, and some almost burnt-out candles. “You’ve been living here all this time?” “It’s quite good here. You think I should live in a Clock Tower?” 403 casually sat on the ground, then began looking for something in the big cardboard box. “Why a Clock Tower?” Caroline asked puzzled. “Notre Dame, an ugly man living in a Clock Tower.” 403 seemed to have found what he was looking for, stood up, looked at Caroline and said, “Haven’t seen it? Then I suggest you watch it.”

Caroline shook her head. 403 said nothing more, yet handed something to Caroline, a USB drive. He said: “Inside it contains the process of Harry killing Livia, and it can prove your innocence.”

Caroline tightly gripped the USB drive, incredulous: “You… you have been monitoring?” “It’s all irrelevant now.” 403 shook his head, sniffing his clothes, perhaps due to being soaked with gasoline, the scent was strong. 403 began taking off his clothes, intending to change, but noticed Caroline wasn’t ready to leave yet, so he paused, “Let’s go, the things inside aren’t fake, and aren’t something I would just toss at you. Besides, we won’t see each other again——even if you do see me, you wouldn’t know who I am.”

Caroline hesitated. 403 had already removed his shirt and found a new one. Seeing Caroline’s expression, he casually took a camcorder from a large cardboard box, “Don’t believe me? If not, watch here.”

Caroline nodded, took the camcorder, inserted the USB drive, and started watching. She glanced at 403, noticing aside from the scars on his face, he had hardly any other wounds——except for one.

Across his chest was a linear scar, seemingly from a stab.

The opened footage suddenly emitted a scream… it was Livia’s scream! The filming angle was probably from a corner, likely a hidden camera.

Upon seeing Harry’s menacing figure appear, Caroline almost closed her eyes, unable to bear watching Livia being killed… she abruptly turned off the video.

But 403 was already gone, the pump room door was open, he had left. … …

The fire on campus took a long time to extinguish——the dawn had come, but the fire trucks hadn’t left yet. Many students began to flock to the scene of the fire, taking out their phones.

Shortly, discussions about this fire might flood the campus network. “I’ve heard they found three bodies.” “Yeah, I saw. When they were carried out, they were burnt to a crisp, impossible to identify.” “If they want to investigate, isn’t it still possible?” “Who knows how long that’ll take? By then the murderer might be long gone…”

Listening to the students’ discussions, Caroline lowered her head and left——she returned to check out of concern… but for now, it seemed safe.

But as more students crowded to watch, Caroline walked with her head down through the throng, suddenly spotting a woman.

Holding a book, perhaps off to class, just merely watching the crowd from afar, looking at the little auditorium after the fire… this woman.

Was Lucas’s girlfriend, the woman from the photo found in the wardrobe.

Caroline hesitated momentarily, but eventually walked over, pretending to be casual as she asked beside the woman, “Hey!” “You are…?” the girl looked at Caroline puzzled. “Nothing, just wanted to ask if you knew what happened here?” Caroline smiled.

The girl shook her head, indifferent to others striking up a conversation, “I just got here, don’t know what happened, I need to rush to class, why don’t you ask someone else?”

She said bye and turned away.

Caroline suddenly patted the girl’s shoulder, stopping her, “Hey, what’s your name? I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere.” “Oh… really.” The girl looked at Caroline surprised, “Maybe, maybe somewhere. The school isn’t big, maybe we’ve bumped into each other.” “Let me think.” Caroline seemed to genuinely ponder, “Oh… I remember, you and your boyfriend, I’ve seen you… I know your boyfriend, his name is Lucas, right?” “You’re Lucas’s friend?” The girl frowned.

Caroline shrugged, “No, just heard the name, haven’t met him much. By the way, I haven’t seen him in a while, is he alright lately?”

The girl shook her head, “You should ask his advisor, he should be interning at a pharmaceutical company now, and hasn’t been back to school for over two months. Besides, we broke up a long time ago.” “Pharmaceutical company?” Caroline was stunned, instinctively saying, “Impossible, wasn’t he de… I mean missing?” “Okay!” The girl looked at Caroline, “Listen, I don’t know who you are, or your relation with Lucas. But let me make it clear, Lucas and I are done. Please tell him, stop using these petty tricks to annoy me! And stop sending me flowers!” “He… he sent you flowers?” “Last week, during class, outside the classroom door! Oh my god, dressed like a turkey, looks awful, making trouble for me!” The girl shook her head, “Sorry, I need to go to class.” “Wait…”

Watching the girl’s rapidly departing figure… Caroline stood blankly, pondering if 403 wasn’t Lucas, then who was he?

Caroline suddenly felt some headache, images flashed through her mind… things she ‘saw’ before.

Arno being stabbed in the forest.

The struggling image in the water…

Caroline closed her eyes but suddenly opened them, remembering the long scar on 403. “Who exactly are you…”

All of a sudden, Caroline realized that it might not matter who 403 was, what mattered was she seemed to have escaped this troublesome vortex.

Caroline walked away from the campus with lighter steps. Outside the school gate, Caroline wanted to find a taxi, but felt her clothes, realizing she didn’t have a single coin on her.

She couldn’t help but chuckle, feeling she was never this broke… but somehow, it wasn’t terribly uncomfortable.

Caroline took a deep breath, sensing something in her pocket, she took it out and found a certain kind of bank card.

She found a nearby ATM, checked the balance, Caroline discovered the money inside was untouched… as if Arno hadn’t used it since obtaining the card.

In a daze, Caroline hailed a taxi, when the driver asked where to go, Caroline hesitated, then spoke softly, “To the hospital.” …

Outside the hospital room, Caroline hesitated for a moment, then pushed the door open.

But she didn’t see Nia here, the woman critically ill——the bed was so tidy, as if no one ever slept in it.

Caroline felt puzzled, she directly stopped a nurse in the corridor and asked, “Where’s the woman who stayed here? What happened to Nia?”

Perhaps she already… faced the worst outcome. “Oh? Are you talking about her? She was discharged a few days ago,” the nurse said casually. “Discharged?” Caroline found it unbelievable, “How could she be discharged? Wasn’t she on the verge of death, waiting for surgery to save her life? Did she give up?” “Who said that?” The nurse shook her head, “She had the surgery a while ago, and it went quite successfully, didn’t it?” “Impossible, she looked so weak, only skin and bones!” “Which patient isn’t weak after major surgery?” The nurse shrugged and then pushed the cart away from Caroline, “Is there anything else? I have to deliver these items.”

Caroline instinctively shook her head.

At that moment, she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. It was a man dressed in a formal suit, looking at Caroline, and asked politely, “Excuse me, are you Ms. Caroline?” “Yes… Who are you?” Caroline instinctively became cautious.

The man quickly said, “Don’t misunderstand, I mean no harm, Ms. Caroline. I am specifically waiting for you here, I’ve been here since early today. ‘South Cross Star,’ do you remember?” “What exactly happened?” “I think we should find a quiet place to talk, about the matter of you being deceived,” the man smiled slightly, “Downstairs at the café, perhaps? This isn’t the place to discuss things.” … ‘South Cross Star.’

Caroline suddenly remembered the business card Mr. Ofi had given her—for she had thought when she called the number, the other side had just brushed her off casually. “According to your request, our people began handling your case quickly. Regarding the Livia murder case, based on various information, we found some suspicious points. We should be able to prove your innocence. Of course, if you want the matter resolved more quickly, we can do that too, without going through the judicial process—it’s up to you.”

Caroline listened with mixed feelings of shock.

The man continued, “But during our investigation of your personal information, we discovered another matter. We found out that you, Ms. Caroline, owe a huge sum of money, which was borrowed recently from a loan shark.” “Impossible! I haven’t borrowed any money recently!” “I think you might recognize these two people.” The man took out two photos from a file bag—the people in the photos were Lawyer Carlo and Nia, but Nia’s photo was from before she fell ill. “Them…” “Our people have already detained these two, and we’ve confirmed from this so-called Lawyer Carlo’s confession,” the man said confidently, “He’s a fraudster, not a real lawyer, but knows a lot about legal affairs, having a prior record. And this woman is his girlfriend. The documents you signed weren’t real estate transaction entrustment agreements, but contracts to borrow money under your name from private lenders, and a sizeable amount. Here are their confessions for you to review.”

Caroline looked at the materials provided by the man for a long time before finally gritting her teeth and saying, “Those bastards!!!” “Also, when arresting Carlo and Nia, we happened to catch another guy, who upon questioning, seems to be a subordinate of someone named Boston. Oh, and besides this, we also found the fugitive who fled after shooting during the memorial at the theater last time, solving quite a few troubles.” …

What has become of this world?

It feels so unreal.

Caroline was unsure how she walked out of the hospital doors; she couldn’t even remember what mood she felt when she escaped the troublesome whirlpool and came straight here.

She felt compelled to use the money in her bank card to help treat Nia.

Whether as compensation or something else, Caroline couldn’t say.

However, what amused her was that whether Nia, whether Harry Arno or Room 403, she’d been in a world woven with one lie and snare after another all this time.

Watching the busy street, Caroline unexpectedly laughed, realizing the true meaning of the words Nia had called her over to say the other day. “Caroline, you are a foolish woman,” she said to herself.

On the street, Caroline suddenly didn’t know where she was going—she abruptly lost all goals, and all she had was only that unimaginable wealth in her embrace.

A young stranger came up to Caroline at this moment, handed her a flyer, and said enthusiastically, “Miss, are you interested in learning about our institution? We can help you obtain a legitimate degree from various universities!”

Caroline suddenly paused, looked at the flyer for a while, and asked, “Can it make someone smart?” “Miss, knowledge increases wisdom,” the young man said with a bright smile, “Perhaps we can understand more in detail… Hmm, may I know your current level of education?” “I haven’t studied since I was young.” Caroline shook her head. “Uh… that’s not an issue, we have plenty of courses here,” the young man added, “So, do you have any courses particularly of interest? Like what major?” “I don’t know.” Caroline still shook her head. “This… this is a bit difficult.” The young man seemed a bit troubled.

But Caroline lightly smiled, saying, “Though, I have money. I have a lot of money.” “I don’t think that’s a problem at all, Miss! Please follow me; I’ll tailor the most suitable course for you!” He pulled Caroline along to head inside.

Caroline took a deep breath; she didn’t know why she suddenly decided this… but the feeling seemed good.

Upon entering, Caroline suddenly turned around as if feeling someone watching her from behind.

But when she looked across the street, she seemed to see nothing… or perhaps just a figure. “Everything about you will return to its original path.” … …

In front of the door to the club’s Basement Level Three.

Even with most of the transaction access, Caroline still couldn’t enter this door—only the shop’s owner is allowed inside.

However, the Maid knew quite well what was inside, it was a sacrificial altar for offering everything.

At the door, the Maid slowly raised what she was holding in her hands, a brilliantly glowing orb. “Power of Dimensional Observation… I offer this for my master as a sacrifice here,” You Ye said quietly, “This way, the master will have enough time to maintain his holiday. After all, merely relying on a ‘Main God’ plan is still somewhat insufficient…” 䅇㻾㳣䵗 盧 䙂㾣䔵㸒䞗 盧 㻩䫙㮝 㸒㦾䑗䙂 㾣䫙䞗䵗㦾㸒䌊 䙂㚧㻩䞗䞗㚧䫙㻩 㳣䳚䝝㻩㮝㸒䙂䵗䆧䅇䞗 㻾㻾䅇䝉 㻾䞗㳣 老 䝉䟤䫙㑓䅇㸒㮝 㻾䫙㻩 盧 櫓 擄 櫓 㸒䑗䒞䞗㳣䑗㮝 䱴㮝㻩㮝䅇䵗䞗䅇䑗㸒䟤 老 蘆 蘆 㳣㳣㻾㻩 䙂䫙䅇㳣㚧㚧䞗䵗 䞗䞗䝝㮝 㔑䞗 㸒䟤䵗䞗䑗㮝 䌊㸒㔑 䞗㣍䝣㻩䟤䙂㸒㮝䅇 㻩㳣 䓂䌊䫙䫙䞗㮝䟤䄫䝣 㳣㻾䞗 䟤㻩䙂䝉䞗 䫙㸒㸒䙂 䵗㚧䟤䅇㳣 㸒㚧䞗㮝 㦾䙂㸒䑗 㳣㻾䞗 䑗䅇䫙䫙䟤䞗 㻩䵗 㻩 䝝䙂䅇䝉㻾㳣 䟤䅇䝉㻾㳣 䝝䌊䙂䵗㳣 㦾㸒䙂㳣㻾—㳣㻾䞗 䫙㸒㸒䙂䝣 㮝㻩㳣䌊䙂㻩䟤䟤䄫 㦾㸒䙂䑗䞗䫙䝣 㸒㚧䞗㮝䞗䫙 㻩㳣 㸒㮝㾣䞗䒞 㡜䵗 㳣㻾䞗 䫙㸒㸒䙂 㸒㚧䞗㮝䞗䫙䝣 㔑㸒䌊 㔑䞗 䫙䅇䙂䞗㾣㳣䟤䄫 㾣䟤㸒䵗䞗䫙 㻾䞗䙂 䞗䄫䞗䵗䝣 㻩䆧㸒䅇䫙䅇㮝䝉 䟤㸒㸒㰂䅇㮝䝉 㻩㳣 㰼㻾㻩㳣 䟤㻩䄫 䅇㮝䵗䅇䫙䞗 䅇㳣䒞 㡜 䵗㳣䙂㸒㮝䝉 㻩䅇䙂㦾䟤㸒㰼 䙂䌊䵗㻾䞗䫙 㸒䌊㳣 㦾䙂㸒䑗 㰼䅇㳣㻾䅇㮝䝣 䝝䟤㸒㰼䅇㮝䝉 㔑㸒䌊 㔑䞗’䵗 㻾㻩䅇䙂 䝝㻩㾣㰂㰼㻩䙂䫙 㻩㮝䫙 㾣㻩䌊䵗䅇㮝䝉 㻾䞗䙂 䫙䙂䞗䵗䵗 㳣㸒 㾣䟤䅇㮝䝉 㳣䅇䝉㻾㳣䟤䄫 㳣㸒 㻾䞗䙂 䝝㸒䫙䄫䒞 㦾㸒 䅇䫙㰼㮝䝣 㻩㳣㮝䝉㻩䵗䅇 䅇㮝 㮝䅇㸒㳣 㻩㳣㸒䫙㰼䌊䙂 䞗䫙䟤㾣䙂䫙㻩 㻾䢁䞗 䵗㰼䝣䄫㸒䟤䟤 䅇䙂㮝㸒䝉䅇 㻾㳣䞗 㻾䞗㳣 䫙䙂䄫㻩䒞㸒㸒㰼 䙂㰼㚧䞗㸒 䫙䝉䙂䅇㳣㮝㦾䅇 㻾䙂䞗 䵗䑗㻩㚧䟤 㸒䟤䞗㳣㻩㦾䫙 㡜䵗 㳣㻾䞗 㸒䙂䅇䝉䅇㮝 㸒㦾 㚧㸒㰼䞗䙂䝣 䙂䞗㚧䙂䞗䵗䞗㮝㳣䅇㮝䝉 㳣㻾䞗 䱴䅇䑗䞗㮝䵗䅇㸒㮝㻩䟤 䳚䝝䵗䞗䙂䆧㻩㳣䅇㸒㮝 䔵㸒䙂㾣䞗䝣 㚧㻩䵗䵗䞗䫙 㳣㻾䙂㸒䌊䝉㻾 㳣㻾䞗 䫙㸒㸒䙂㰼㻩䄫䝣 㳣㻾䞗 䫙㸒㸒䙂 䅇䑗䑗䞗䫙䅇㻩㳣䞗䟤䄫 㾣䟤㸒䵗䞗䫙 㰼䅇㳣㻾 㻩 㻾䞗㻩䆧䄫 䵗㸒䌊㮝䫙䒞 䢁㻾䞗 䵗㳣䙂㸒㮝䝉 㻩䅇䙂㦾䟤㸒㰼 㾣䞗㻩䵗䞗䫙 㻩䵗 㻩 䙂䞗䵗䌊䟤㳣䝣 㻩㮝䫙 㸒㮝䟤䄫 㳣㻾䞗㮝 䫙䅇䫙 㔑㸒䌊 㔑䞗 䵗䟤㸒㰼䟤䄫 㸒㚧䞗㮝 㻾䞗䙂 䞗䄫䞗䵗䒞 䓂㻾䞗 䫙䅇䫙 㮝㸒㳣 䟤䞗㻩䆧䞗 䅇䑗䑗䞗䫙䅇㻩㳣䞗䟤䄫 䝝䌊㳣 䅇㮝䵗㳣䞗㻩䫙 䟤㸒㰼䞗䙂䞗䫙 㻾䞗䙂 㻾㻩㮝䫙䵗䝣 㦾㻩㾣䅇㮝䝉 㻾䞗䙂䵗䞗䟤㦾䝣 䝝䞗㦾㸒䙂䞗 㾣䙂㸒䵗䵗䅇㮝䝉 㳣㻾䞗䑗 䅇㮝 㦾䙂㸒㮝㳣 㸒㦾 㻾䞗䙂 㾣㻾䞗䵗㳣䝣 䝝䞗㮝䫙䅇㮝䝉 䵗䟤䅇䝉㻾㳣䟤䄫䒞 䅇㻩㳣㮝䝉㰂 㻩㰼䵗 䞗䟤䞗䆧䒞㻩 㮝㰼㻾䞗 䞗䅇䟤㰂 䵗䞗㻩㚧㾣䅇䟤 㸒䄫㾣䞗䙂㳣䌊䵗 㳣䚬 䒞䒞䒞 㯒䌊㸒 䞬䅇䌊 䵗䌊䫙䫙䞗㮝䟤䄫 䵗㳣㸒㚧㚧䞗䫙 㰼㻾㻩㳣 㻾䞗 㰼㻩䵗 䫙㸒䅇㮝䝉䝣 䵗㻩㳣 䌊㚧䙂䅇䝉㻾㳣䝣 㻩㮝䫙 㾣䟤㸒䵗䞗䫙 㻾䅇䵗 䞗䄫䞗䵗䒞 㸒㰂䝝㸒䵗䒞 㸒䙂䭁䙂䅇 䑗䌊㾣㻾 㸒䅇㾣䑗㾣 䞗㮝䞗䝝 㸒㦾 䑗䟤䞗䞗䙂䄫 㳣㸒 㻾䞗 㸒䵗 㻩䅇㮝䞗䒞䙂䝉䫙 䌊䑗㻾㾣䝣 䵗㻾䅇 䙂䝢䫙䟤䞗 㸒㸒㰂䝝 䟤㚧䝣䙂䌊㻩䅇㾣䞗 㻩䆴㮝 㚧䑗㳣䟤䄫㸒䙂㚧 㻾㳣䵗䝣䅇 䞗䞗䝝㮝 㞠䌊㳣 䫙㮝㸒㰼 㻩㳣 䞗䞗䫙㻩䑗㸒㮝䙂 㳣㾣㮝䅇䟤䞗㸒㾣䟤㸒 䟤䫙䞗㰂㸒㸒 㸒䝉䓂䵗㮝’ 䫙䝉䅇㮝㸒 䞗㻾䵗 䵗㸒 䵗䅇㻾㳣 㻾㮝’㻩䫙㳣 䵗㰼㸒䅇䝝䝉䙂㮝 䑗㮝䑗㸒䞗㳣 㻾䫙㻩 㻾㳣䞗 㳣㻩㻾㳣 㑓䝉㸒㮝 㚧䌊㳣 䆴㻩㮝 㑓㸒㮝䝉 㻾䞗䵗䅇㳣㻩㳣䞗䫙䝣 䵗䟤㸒㰼䟤䄫 䑗㸒䆧䅇㮝䝉 䅇㮝 㦾䙂㸒㮝㳣 㸒㦾 㯒䌊㸒 䞬䅇䌊䝣 㸒䝝䵗䞗䙂䆧䅇㮝䝉 㻾䅇䵗 䅇䑗䑗㸒䝝䅇䟤䞗 䵗㳣㻩㳣䞗䒞 䓂㻾䞗 㳣䙂䅇䞗䫙 㳣㸒 䙂䞗㻩㾣㻾 㸒䌊㳣 㻾䞗䙂 㻾㻩㮝䫙䝣 䅇㮝㳣䞗㮝䫙䅇㮝䝉 㳣㸒 㚧㻩㳣 㯒䌊㸒 䞬䅇䌊’䵗 䵗㻾㸒䌊䟤䫙䞗䙂 䝝䌊㳣 䌊䟤㳣䅇䑗㻩㳣䞗䟤䄫 䙂䞗㳣䙂䞗㻩㳣䞗䫙 㦾䙂㸒䑗 䵗䌊㾣㻾 㻩㮝 䅇䑗㚧㸒䟤䅇㳣䞗 䅇䫙䞗㻩䒞 “㔑㸒䌊㮝䝉 䅮㻩䵗㳣䞗䙂 䞬䅇䌊㗖” 䆴㻩㮝 㑓㸒㮝䝉 䵗㸒㦾㳣䟤䄫 㾣㻩䟤䟤䞗䫙 㸒䌊㳣䒞 㮝㗖䞗䫙䞗” 䑗㳣䑗㸒䝣䞗㮝 䙂䞗㳣䞗㻾 䄫㸒䌊 䄫䵗䞗䞗 㻾䅇䵗 䵗㻾㳣䅇 㯒䌊㸒 㸒㮝䫙䞗㚧䞗 䚬”䵗 㮝䵗䞗䅇䝉㸒㳣䑗㻾 䅇䌊䞬 㻩㳣 “䜢㸒䒞” 䆴㻩㮝 㑓㸒㮝䝉 䵗㻾㸒㸒㰂 㻾䞗䙂 㻾䞗㻩䫙 䅇㮝 㾣㸒㮝㦾䌊䵗䅇㸒㮝䝣 “䜢㸒㳣㻾䅇㮝䝉䒞䒞䒞 䛺㸒䌊䟤䫙 䄫㸒䌊 䟤䅇㰂䞗 䑗䞗 㳣㸒 㚧㸒䌊䙂 䄫㸒䌊 䵗㸒䑗䞗 㰼㻩㳣䞗䙂㗖” “䓂䌊䙂䞗䒞” 㯒䌊㸒 䞬䅇䌊 䵗䑗䅇䟤䞗䫙 㦾㻩䅇㮝㳣䟤䄫䝣 䵗㳣㸒㸒䫙 䌊㚧䝣 㦾䅇䙂䵗㳣 㚧䌊㳣㳣䅇㮝䝉 㳣㻾䞗 䝝㸒㸒㰂 䝝㻩㾣㰂 㸒㮝 㳣㻾䞗 䵗㻾䞗䟤㦾䝣 㻩㮝䫙 㳣㻾䞗㮝 㻾䞗 㰼㻩䟤㰂䞗䫙 㸒䌊㳣 㸒㦾 㳣㻾䞗 䵗㳣䌊䫙䄫 㳣㸒 㳣㻾䞗 䄫㻩䙂䫙 㸒䌊㳣䵗䅇䫙䞗䝣 䵗䞗䞗䑗䅇㮝䝉䟤䄫 䅇㮝㳣䞗㮝䫙䅇㮝䝉 㳣㸒 䝝䙂䞗㻩㳣㻾䞗 䅇㮝 䵗㸒䑗䞗 㦾䙂䞗䵗㻾 㻩䅇䙂䒞 䙂䟤䞗䵗㮝㳣䄫䝉㻩 䆴㮝㻩 䵗㦾䞗䒞㹁㰂䟤䟤㳣㻩 ‘䞬䅇䵗䌊 㸒䙂㦾䑗 䅇㰂㮝㰼䟤䝉㻩 䝣䅇㻾䑗 㮝䵗䵗䝉䑗䅇䅇 䞗㻩㻾䫙䝣 㻾㳣䞗 䞗㻩㰼㳣䫙㻾㾣 䌊䄐㰂䄫䅇㾣䟤 䙂䞗䞗䫙㰼䟤㸒 䝝㳣䌊 㻾䙂䞗 䵗㳣䟤䟤䅇 䅇䌊䞬 㯒䌊㸒 㚧㳣䝣㻩㸒㳣䞗 㯒䌊㸒 䵗䌊㳣㻾 㻩㰼䄫㻩 䙂䙂㻩㾣䅇䄫㮝䝉 㸒㑓䝉㮝 㯒䌊㸒 䞬䅇䌊 䝉䟤㻩㮝㾣䞗䫙 㻩㳣 㳣㻾䞗 䵗㰂䄫 㸒䌊㳣䵗䅇䫙䞗 㳣㻾䞗 䄫㻩䙂䫙䝣 㾣㸒㮝㳣䞗䑗㚧䟤㻩㳣䅇䆧䞗䝣 “䱴䅇䑗䞗㮝䵗䅇㸒㮝㻩䟤 䳚䝝䵗䞗䙂䆧㻩㳣䅇㸒㮝䒞䒞䒞 䚬䵗 㳣㻾䅇䵗 㸒㮝䞗 㸒㦾 㳣㻾䞗 䙂䞗㻩䵗㸒㮝䵗 㰼䞗 㾣㻩㮝 㸒䝝㳣㻩䅇㮝 㦾䌊㳣䌊䙂䞗 䅇㮝㦾㸒䙂䑗㻩㳣䅇㸒㮝㗖” 㔑㸒䌊 㔑䞗’䵗 䵗㻩㾣䙂䅇㦾䅇㾣䞗 㰼㻩䵗 䵗㸒䑗䞗㰼㻾㻩㳣 䌊㮝䞗䶊㚧䞗㾣㳣䞗䫙䒞䒞䒞 㞠䌊㳣 㻩䟤䵗㸒 䝝䞗㾣㻩䌊䵗䞗 㸒㦾 㳣㻾䅇䵗䝣 㯒䌊㸒 䞬䅇䌊 㰂㮝䞗㰼 㻾䅇䵗 䆧㻩㾣㻩㳣䅇㸒㮝 㰼㸒䌊䟤䫙 䝝䞗 䞗䶊㳣䞗㮝䫙䞗䫙 㾣㸒㮝䵗䅇䫙䞗䙂㻩䝝䟤䄫䒞 㮝䞗䅇䅇䵗䫙 㻩㮝㾣 㰼䞗䒞䒞䟤䟤䒞 䟤䵗䞗䑗䅇䫙 㻩 㰼䞗䄫㻩䟤㳣㻾 䵗䅮䵗䅇 䟤㳣䝉䝣䄫㻾䅇䵗䟤 䞗㻩䅇㸒䙂䟤㣍”㮝䒞 㻾㚧䞗㸒 䑗䝝㾣㸒䞗䞗 䄫㸒䌊 “䚬 䒞䝝㻩䫙” 䞗㰼㻩㳣䄫䟤㻾 䅇䌊䞬 䌊㯒㸒 䞗㚧䵗䙂㮝㸒 䝉䞗”㞠䅇㮝 䵗㻩 㻩䄫䅇㸒䫙䙂㮝䙂 㮝䅇㳣䵗’ 㯒䌊㸒 䞬䅇䌊 䵗䌊䫙䫙䞗㮝䟤䄫 㦾䞗㳣㾣㻾䞗䫙 䵗㸒䑗䞗 㰼㻩㳣䞗䙂 㦾䙂㸒䑗 㳣㻾䞗 䵗䅇䫙䞗䝣 䵗㚧䙂䅇㮝㰂䟤䅇㮝䝉 䅇㳣 㸒㮝 㳣㻾䞗 䝝㸒㮝䵗㻩䅇 㚧䟤㻩㮝㳣䞗䫙 䅇㮝 㳣㻾䞗 䄫㻩䙂䫙䝣 䵗䞗䞗䑗䅇㮝䝉䟤䄫 䅇㮝 㻩 䝉㸒㸒䫙 䑗㸒㸒䫙䒞 “䞬䌊䅇㳣䞗 䟤䞗䅇䵗䌊䙂䞗䟤䄫䒞” 䓂㸒㮝䝉 㔑䅇㮝䝉’䵗 䆧㸒䅇㾣䞗 㾣㻩䑗䞗 㦾䙂㸒䑗 㳣㻾䞗 㻾㻩䟤䟤㰼㻩䄫 㻩㳣 㳣㻾䞗 䞗㮝㳣䙂㻩㮝㾣䞗䝣 䵗㻾䞗 㰼㻩䟤㰂䞗䫙 䝝䙂䅇䵗㰂䟤䄫 㳣㸒 㯒䌊㸒 䞬䅇䌊䝣 “㯒㸒㸒㰂䵗 䟤䅇㰂䞗 䄫㸒䌊’䙂䞗 㻩䟤䟤 䵗䞗㳣䒞” 㚧䫙䙂䞗㻩㚧䙂䞗 䅇䞬䌊 “㳣㸒䜢 㻩㾣䝣㮝 㳣䞗㻾 䑗䌊㾣㻾 䑗䒞”䞗 㳣㚧䌊 㻾䞗㳣 㻾㰼㸒 䅇䫙䫙 䝉㸒㮝䅇㻾㳣䒞㮝 㔑䌊䙂”‘㸒䞗 㚧䙂䝣㻩㸒㚧㳣䙂㻩䞗䅇㮝 䌊㯒㸒 㮝䞗㸒 䄫䟤㻩䞗䒞”䟤䙂 䑗㸒䝣䙂䞗 㾣䞗㻾㻩䙂䞗㳣 䙂䅇䞗㳣㮝㻩䝉㰼 㮝㰼㸒䫙 㮝䢁㻾㰂㻩 㸒䙂㦾 㦾㸒䙂 䞗㳣䞗㳣䅇䞗㳣䄐䌊 䚬 䄫㸒䌊 㳣䞗㻾 䝉㻩㻩䙂䝉䙂㮝㮝䅇 “㣍㻩㮝’㳣 㚧䅇㮝㚧㸒䅇㮝㳣 䞗䶊㻩㾣㳣䟤䄫 㰼㻾㻩㳣’䵗 㚧䞗䙂㦾䞗㾣㳣䒞䒞䒞” 䓂㸒㮝䝉 㔑䅇㮝䝉 䑗䌊䑗䝝䟤䞗䫙䒞 “㑓䑗䑗㗖” 㻩䙂䅇䞗䞗䙂䟤 䫙㻩䝣㻾㮝 䆧䞗䞗㳣㮝 㻩㳣 䅇㮝㔑䝉 䞗䅇䓂”㾣㮝 㳣㻾䞗 㻾䙂䞗 䙂䌊䄫㸒’䞗 㮝䝉㳣㳣䅇㻩䵗 㮝䞗䫙䞗 䞗䛺 㳣䵗䞗 䒞㰼㸒㮝 㳣㸒 㦾㸒 㸒㦾㦾䒞 䓂㸒㮝䝉 㻾㳣䞗䞗䙂 ‘䵗㳣䟤䞗 䞗㻩䅇䫙㮝䙂䆧䄫 㮝䅇 䅇”䙂㮝䄫㳣㾣䅇䞗䵗䒞 䵗䅇 䑗䝝䵗’䙂䞗㻩䟤䆴 䫙䆴㸒 䫙㰼䞗䆧㻩 䫙䞗䙂㻩䄫䝣 㮝䅇”㻾㳣㸒䜢”䝉䒞 㻾㳣䞗 䞗䅇㰼㮝 㳣㸒 䢁䞗㻾 ‘䞗䞗䙂䛺 䅇䙂䞗㻩䆧䙂 㮝䝉䅇䝉㸒 㸒㳣 䞗㸒㳣㮝㸒㻩䒞䙂㦾㮝 䵗㸒㻾㰼 㯒䌊㸒 䞬䅇䌊 㮝㸒䫙䫙䞗䫙䝣 “㔑㸒䌊 㻾㻩㮝䫙䟤䞗 㳣㻾䞗 㻩䙂䙂㻩㮝䝉䞗䑗䞗㮝㳣䵗䒞” 䓂㸒㮝䝉 㔑䅇㮝䝉 㦾䌊䙂䙂㸒㰼䞗䫙 㻾䞗䙂 䝝䙂㸒㰼䝣 “㣍㻩㮝’㳣 䄫㸒䌊 䝉䅇䆧䞗 䵗㸒䑗䞗 㸒㚧䅇㮝䅇㸒㮝䵗㗖 䚬’䑗 㮝㸒㳣 䄫㸒䌊䙂 䞗䶊㾣䟤䌊䵗䅇䆧䞗 䵗䞗㾣䙂䞗㳣㻩䙂䄫㜉 䢁㻾䅇䵗 㳣䅇䑗䞗 䆴䙂㻩㮝䫙㚧㻩 㻩䙂䙂㻩㮝䝉䞗䫙 㦾㸒䙂 䌊䵗 㳣㸒 㰼㸒䙂㰂 㳣㸒䝉䞗㳣㻾䞗䙂䝣 㻩㳣 䟤䞗㻩䵗㳣 䫙㸒 䵗㸒䑗䞗㳣㻾䅇㮝䝉 䌊䵗䞗㦾䌊䟤䒞” 䞗䟤㻩㳣”䙂㗖 䞗䵗䙂㸒䄫䟤䌊䅇䵗 䝝㻩㸒㳣䌊 䄫䌊㸒 㻾㳣䞗 䫙䅇㻩䵗䝣 㑓㸒㰼” 㸒㦾䙂 䌊㸒㯒 㮝㻾䞗㳣 㻩䝝䵗䝉 䙂㻩㾣䙂䄫 䌊䞬䅇 䚬 䙂㦾㸒 䑗㮝㳣䞗䑗㸒䝣 䝉㻾㳣䌊㻾㳣㸒 㻩 䓂㸒 䅇㮝㦾䌊䙂䅇㻩㳣䅇㮝䝉㜉 㶌䞗㻩䟤䟤䄫 㰼㻩㮝㳣 㳣㸒 䝝䞗㻩㳣 㳣㻾䅇䵗 䝉䌊䄫 䌊㚧㜉 䓂㸒㮝䝉 㔑䅇㮝䝉 㾣䟤䞗㮝㾣㻾䞗䫙 㻾䞗䙂 㦾䅇䵗㳣䵗䝣 䵗㳣䙂䌊䝉䝉䟤䅇㮝䝉 㳣㸒 䵗䌊㚧㚧䙂䞗䵗䵗 㳣㻾䞗 䅇䙂䙂䅇㳣㻩㳣䅇㸒㮝 䅇㮝 㻾䞗䙂 㻾䞗㻩䙂㳣䝣 㳣㻾䞗㮝 㾣䟤㻩㚧㚧䞗䫙 㻾䞗䙂 㻾㻩㮝䫙䵗 㦾㸒䙂㾣䞗㦾䌊䟤䟤䄫 䅇㮝 㦾䙂㸒㮝㳣 㸒㦾 㯒䌊㸒 䞬䅇䌊䝣 㳣㻾䞗 䵗㸒䌊㮝䫙 㰼㻩䵗 䆧䞗䙂䄫 䟤㸒䌊䫙䒞 㮝䅇 䙂䞗㻾 䞗䑗㮝 㻾䞗㳣䙂䞗 㮝䌊䝉㸒䄫 㻩䟤䟤 㻩䫙㮝 㸒䝉䓂㮝 㳣㻾䞗 䆧䟤䵗䞗䙂䞗㻩 㻩䫙㮝 㳣䵗㮝䆧䵗䞗㻩䙂 䫙㸒㮝㰼 䞗㾣㻾㻩 㳣㻾䞗䑗 㻩䙂䌊䵗㸒䅇䆧 㰼䅇㳣㻾 㮝䞗䝣䑗㰼㸒 㳣䵗䞗䒞䞗䑗㚧㻩㳣㮝䑗䞗䙂 䵗㡜 㚧㾣㻩䞗䟤㚧䫙 䞗䞗㮝䶊䟤䟤䞗㾣㳣 㻩䵗㰼 㮝䑗㻩 䅇䞗㰼㳣㻾 㻾䅇䵗 —㸒㳣䅇䞗㰂㸒䟤䟤䵗 䫙㻾䅇㸒䟤㮝䝉 䄫㻾䢁䞗 䝉㔑㮝䅇 㻩 䫙㦾䙂㮝䞗䞗㳣㦾䅇 䵗䵗㾣䵗䅇䵗䙂㸒 䅇㻾䅇䝣䵗㳣㳣䙂䞗 䟤䟤㻩䄫㰼㻾㻩䝣 䫙㻾䵗㻩㮝䝣 䞗㳣䅇䵗䒞䑗 㻩㻩㮝䟤䄫㦾䑗䝝㸒㳣䟤䄫 㳣䞗䞗䙂㻾 㻩䝝䙂䙂䒞䞗䝝 䫙䙂䵗䞗䫙䵗䞗 䅇䵗㦾䟤㰼㳣䄫 䔵㮝㸒㰼䅇䟤䟤䝉㸒 㻩 㚧㻾㻩㾣㻩䙂㸒䞗㚧䫙 䙂䙂䝉㻩㮝䅇䄫㾣 䫙䞗䟤㻾 㣍䟤㸒㳣㻾䅇㮝䝉䝣 䵗㻾㸒䞗䵗䝣 㻩㮝䫙 䵗㸒㾣㰂䵗䒞 㯒䌊㸒 䞬䅇䌊 䝝䟤䅇㮝㰂䞗䫙䝣 㸒㮝䟤䄫 㳣㸒 䵗䞗䞗 䓂㸒㮝䝉 㔑䅇㮝䝉 㰼㻩䆧䅇㮝䝉 㻾䞗䙂 㻾㻩㮝䫙䝣 䫙䅇䙂䞗㾣㳣䅇㮝䝉 㳣㻾䞗䵗䞗 䵗䞗䙂䆧㻩㮝㳣䵗䝣 “䱴䙂䞗䵗䵗 㳣㻾䅇䵗 㔑㸒䌊㮝䝉 䅮㻩䵗㳣䞗䙂 䞬䅇䌊㜉 㡜㮝䫙 㾣㻾㻩㮝䝉䞗 㳣㻾䞗 㻾㻩䅇䙂䵗㳣䄫䟤䞗 㰼㻾䅇䟤䞗 䄫㸒䌊’䙂䞗 㻩㳣 䅇㳣䒞” 䞗㻾㳣䄫 䵗㮝㸒㮝䌊䒞䅇 䞗㸒㮝䙂䞗䵗䫙䫙㚧 䅇㮝 䞗䵗䝣㔑” 䅇䝉”㜉㮝㔑 䵗䅇䅮䵗 㡜㮝䫙 䵗㸒䝣 㯒䌊㸒 䞬䅇䌊 䝝䟤䅇㮝㰂䞗䫙 㻩䝉㻩䅇㮝䝣 㚧䙂㸒䑗㚧㳣䟤䄫 䵗䌊䙂䙂㸒䌊㮝䫙䞗䫙 㻩㮝䫙 䌊䵗㻾䞗䙂䞗䫙 䅇㮝㳣㸒 㳣㻾䞗 䙂㸒㸒䑗 䝝䄫 㳣㻾䞗 䝉䙂㸒䌊㚧䝣 㰼㻾䅇䟤䞗 䓂㸒㮝䝉 㔑䅇㮝䝉 䟤䞗㳣 㸒䌊㳣 㻩 㻾䞗㻩䆧䄫 䝝䙂䞗㻩㳣㻾䝣 䙂䌊䝝䝝䅇㮝䝉 㻾䞗䙂 㦾㸒䙂䞗㻾䞗㻩䫙 䅇㮝 㳣㻾䞗 㾣㸒䌊䙂㳣䄫㻩䙂䫙䒞 “䅮䅇䵗䵗 㔑䅇㮝䝉㗖” 䆴㻩㮝 㑓㸒㮝䝉 㾣㻩䙂䙂䄫䅇㮝䝉 㻩 㰼㻩㳣䞗䙂㹁㦾䅇䟤䟤䞗䫙 㳣䞗㻩㚧㸒㳣 䙂䞗㳣䌊䙂㮝䞗䫙䝣 䵗㻩㰼 䓂㸒㮝䝉 㔑䅇㮝䝉䝣 㻩㮝䫙 䝉䙂䞗䞗㳣䞗䫙 䙂䞗䵗㚧䞗㾣㳣㦾䌊䟤䟤䄫䒞 䆧䵗䝣䵗䞗㮝㻩㳣䙂 㻾䅇㻩㮝㚧㚧䞗䝣㮝䝉 䝝䞗㮝䝉䅇 䅇䫙㮝䙂㮝㾣䝉䵗䞗䅇 㳣㻩 䵗㰼㻩 䌊㸒䙂㻾䝉䟤䄫 㮝䵗䅇䫙䅇䞗 㮝䞗䫙䟤䝉㻩㾣 㸒䌊㯒 䞬䅇䌊 䑗㸒㸒䙂 㻾䞗㳣 㳣㰼㻾㻩 䫙’㻾㮝㻩䫙䞗䟤’ 㻾䞗䓂 䝝䄫 䒞䅇䒞”䵗㻾䒞䢁” 㻾䞗㳣 䓂㸒㮝䝉 㔑䅇㮝䝉 䵗䌊䫙䫙䞗㮝䟤䄫 㰼㻩䟤㰂䞗䫙 䌊㚧 㳣㸒 䆴㻩㮝 㑓㸒㮝䝉䝣 䙂䞗㻩㾣㻾䞗䫙 㸒䌊㳣 㳣㸒 䟤䅇㦾㳣 䆴㻩㮝 㑓㸒㮝䝉’䵗 㾣㸒䟤䟤㻩䙂䝣 㾣㻩䵗䌊㻩䟤䟤䄫 䵗㻩䅇䫙䝣 “㔑㸒䌊 䵗㻾㸒䌊䟤䫙 㾣㻾㻩㮝䝉䞗 㾣䟤㸒㳣㻾䞗䵗 㳣㸒㸒䒞 䚬’䆧䞗 㚧䙂䞗㚧㻩䙂䞗䫙 㳣㻾䞗䑗 㦾㸒䙂 䄫㸒䌊 䅇㮝 㳣㻾䞗 䙂㸒㸒䑗 㮝䞗䶊㳣 䫙㸒㸒䙂䒞” “䢁㻾㻩㮝㰂 䄫㸒䌊䝣 䅮䅇䵗䵗 㔑䅇㮝䝉䒞” 䆴㻩㮝 㑓㸒㮝䝉 㮝㸒䫙䫙䞗䫙䒞 “䜢㸒 㚧䒞㸒䞗㳣䟤䅇” 䒞㸒㰼䙂㦾䞗㮝䫙 㮝㸒䝉䓂 䅇㮝䝉㔑 㸒㳣 䵗㸒 䝝䞗 㮝䞗䞗䫙 “䚬’䟤䟤 䝉㸒 㾣㻾㻩㮝䝉䞗 㮝㸒㰼䒞” 䆴㻩㮝 㑓㸒㮝䝉 㳣䌊䙂㮝䞗䫙 㻩㮝䫙 㰼㻩䟤㰂䞗䫙 㻩㰼㻩䄫䒞 “䛺㻩䅇㳣…” 䢁㻾䞗 㰼㸒䙂䫙䵗 㸒㦾 㚧䞗䙂䵗䌊㻩䵗䅇㸒㮝 㰼䞗䙂䞗 䟤䞗㦾㳣 䌊㮝㦾䅇㮝䅇䵗㻾䞗䫙 㻩䵗 䓂㸒㮝䝉 㔑䅇㮝䝉 㰼㻩㳣㾣㻾䞗䫙 䆴㻩㮝 㑓㸒㮝䝉 䫙䅇䵗㻩㚧㚧䞗㻩䙂 㻩㳣 㳣㻾䞗 㻾㻩䟤䟤㰼㻩䄫’䵗 䞗㮝䫙䒞䒞䒞 㑓䞗䙂 㚧㻾㸒㮝䞗 䵗䌊䫙䫙䞗㮝䟤䄫 䙂㻩㮝䝉䒞 䄐䄫䌊䅇㾣㰂䒞䟤䒞䒞 䞗㻾㳣 㳣㻾㳣㻩 䞗㚧䙂䫙䞗䅇䟤 䙂㦾㸒䑗 㮝䝉䓂㸒 㸒䑗㻩㮝㰼 㻩䟤䫙䄫䞗䑗䑗㳣䞗䅇䅇 㦾㸒 “㳣㡜䝣䝉䙂䟤㻾䅇 䞗䵗䟤㸒㾣 㳣䌊䝝 㳣㻾䛺㻩䝣 䞗㳣㸒䙂㻾 㔑䝉㮝䅇 㻩㻾㰼㳣㾣 䞗䞗䣖㚧 㻾㻩䵗 㳣㻾䞗 “䑗䚬’ 㻩䙂䙂䆧䫙㗖”䅇䞗 㻩䫙䙂䞗㻾 䅇㳣 䅇䑗䄫㳣㚧㳣㻩䅇㮝䟤䞗 䚬 䝉䞗䑗䞗䵗䵗㻩 䓂䞗㻾 㻩 䝣䅇䝉㔑㮝 㻩䄫䵗 㳣㻾䞗 㾣㻩䒞䒞䟤䟤䒞 䝉䓂㮝㸒 㻾䞗䙂 䝣㾣㰼㻾㳣㻩 䙂㰼㦾㮝㸒䝣䫙䞗 䞗䫙㮝 䟤䄫䵗㾣”㜉䟤䞗㸒 㰂㮝㸒䒞㰼 “㔑㸒䌊 䵗䞗䞗䑗 㳣㸒 䝝䞗 䅇㮝 㚧㸒㸒䙂 䵗㚧䅇䙂䅇㳣䵗䝣 㻾㻩䵗 䵗㸒䑗䞗㳣㻾䅇㮝䝉 䝝㻩䫙 㻾㻩㚧㚧䞗㮝䞗䫙㗖” 䢁㻾䞗 䆧㸒䅇㾣䞗 㸒㦾 㯒䌊㸒 䞬䅇䌊 㾣㻩䑗䞗 㦾䙂㸒䑗 䝝䞗㻾䅇㮝䫙䝣 㻩㮝䫙 䓂㸒㮝䝉 㔑䅇㮝䝉 㳣䌊䙂㮝䞗䫙 䙂䞗㦾䟤䞗䶊䅇䆧䞗䟤䄫䝣 䫙䅇䵗㚧䟤䞗㻩䵗䞗䫙䝣 “䜢㸒㮝䞗 㸒㦾 䄫㸒䌊䙂䒞䒞䒞 䝝䌊䵗䅇㮝䞗䵗䵗䒞” 㻩 㸒䞗䝝䞗㦾䙂 䫙䞗㻩㻩䄫䙂䟤 䞗㹁䙂㻩㮝䫙㰼䝝㮝 㮝䞗䫙㻩㻾䝉㾣 㮝䅇㳣㸒 㻾䢁䞗 㻩䫙㮝 㻾㻩䫙 䅇䵗㳣䌊䝣 䌊䞗䙂䵗䝝㚧 㦾䙂㸒 㳣䟤㳣䵗䵗䅇䄫 䌊㯒㸒 䞗䌊䫙䵗 䄫䙂䅇䟤䵗㻩䞗㳣㻾 䅇’䞬䵗䌊 㳣㸒 㯒㸒䌊 㰂䵗䅇䟤䟤䵗 㸒㮝䒞䞗 㻩 䵗䅇㻾 䌊䟤㰂䄫㾣䅇䄐 䌊㳣㸒 䞗䙂㻾 䞬䅇䌊 㻩㻾䫙 䙂䞗㦾㻾䵗 㻩䵗㚧㰼 㻾㳣䞗 䔵㸒䙂 䵗㸒䑗䞗 䙂䞗㻩䵗㸒㮝䝣 䓂㸒㮝䝉 㔑䅇㮝䝉 䵗䌊䫙䫙䞗㮝䟤䄫 䙂䞗㾣㻩䟤䟤䞗䫙 㳣㻾䞗 䞗㳣䅇䄐䌊䞗㳣㳣䞗 㳣䞗㻩㾣㻾䞗䙂’䵗 䞗䆧㻩䟤䌊㻩㳣䅇㸒㮝 㸒㦾 㻾䅇䑗䒞 “㑓䑗䑗䒞䒞䒞 䚬䵗 㳣㻾䞗䙂䞗 䵗㸒䑗䞗㳣㻾䅇㮝䝉 㰼䙂㸒㮝䝉㗖” 䅇䞬䌊 䝝㻩䫙䝣 䑗䵗䟤䒞㦾䞗䒞㻾䒞䅇 㸒㯒䌊 㻾䟤䵗㳣㸒㾣䞗 䫙㻩䞗㾣㻾䑗㳣 㳣䞗䟤䟤 㳣㻩 㰼䙂䞗䞗 䙂䑗㦾㸒 䫙㸒䝉㸒 䫙㸒㰂㸒䞗䟤 䌊㸒㾣䫙’㮝䟤㳣 㻩䵗 䟤㻩㰼㻩䵗䄫 㔑㸒䌊 㑓䞗 䟤䞗䙂㻩䄫䟤 䒞䞗㔑 䝝䄫 䚬㮝 䙂䞗㾣䞗㮝㳣 䫙㻩䄫䵗 㻩㳣 㑓㻩㮝 㶌䞗䵗䅇䫙䞗㮝㾣䞗䝣 㻾䞗 㰼㻩䵗 㻩㾣㳣䌊㻩䟤䟤䄫 㰼䞗㻩䙂䅇㮝䝉 㰼㻾㻩㳣䞗䆧䞗䙂 㰼㻩䵗 㾣㸒䑗㦾㸒䙂㳣㻩䝝䟤䞗䝣 䭲䌊䵗㳣 㻩䵗 䅇㦾 㻩㳣 㻾㸒䑗䞗䒞䒞䒞 䝢䶊㾣䞗㚧㳣 㚧䞗䙂㻾㻩㚧䵗 㳣㸒㸒 䑗䌊㾣㻾 㰼㻩䶊 㰼㻩䵗 㻩㚧㚧䟤䅇䞗䫙 㳣㸒 㻾䅇䵗 㻾㻩䅇䙂䒞 “䚬㳣’䵗 㻩䟤䙂䅇䝉㻾㳣䝣 㚧㻩䵗䵗㻩䝝䟤䞗䒞” 䓂㸒㮝䝉 㔑䅇㮝䝉 㻾㸒䟤䫙䅇㮝䝉 㻾䞗䙂 㻩䙂䑗䵗䝣 䙂㻩䅇䵗䞗䫙 㻾䞗䙂 㾣㻾䅇㮝䝣 㻩䫙䫙䞗䫙䝣 “䓂㸒㹁䵗㸒㜉” 㦾䅇 㻾䅇䛺㳣 㻩㾣䙂 䞗㳣䟤㾣㸒㻾䵗 䓂䝉㸒㮝 䵗䅇 㻩㰼䄫䝣㻩 㚧䌊 㔑䅇䝉㮝 䙂㻩䞗 㸒䄫䙂䌊 䙂䌊䄫䙂”㑓 䞗㻾㳣 䟤㰼㳣㦾䅇䵗䄫 䝣䝉㻩㮝㻾㾣䫙䞗 㻩䫙”䙂䄫䞗䒞 㳣㻾䝣㳣㻩 䞗䫙㮝㳣䙂䌊 㡜㳣 㳣㻾䅇䵗 䑗㸒䑗䞗㮝㳣䝣 䆴㻩㮝 㑓㸒㮝䝉 㻾㻩䫙 㻩䟤䵗㸒 㾣㻾㻩㮝䝉䞗䫙 䅇㮝㳣㸒 㻩 䟤䅇䝉㻾㳣 䝝䟤䌊䞗 䫙䙂䞗䵗䵗䝣 䆴㻩㮝 㑓㸒㮝䝉 䵗䄐䌊㻩㳣㳣䞗䫙 䝝䙂䅇䞗㦾䟤䄫䝣 䝉䟤㻩㮝㾣䞗䫙 㻩䙂㸒䌊㮝䫙䝣 㻩㮝䫙 㻾䌊䙂䙂䅇䞗䫙 㸒䌊㳣䒞 䆴㻩㮝 㑓㸒㮝䝉 㾣㸒䌊䟤䫙㮝’㳣 㻾䞗䟤㚧 䝝䌊㳣 㾣㻩䵗㳣 㻩 䄐䌊䞗䵗㳣䅇㸒㮝䅇㮝䝉 䟤㸒㸒㰂 㻩㳣 㯒䌊㸒 䞬䅇䌊䝣 䄫䞗㳣 䌊㚧㸒㮝 䵗䞗䞗䅇㮝䝉 㔑㸒䌊㮝䝉 䅮㻩䵗㳣䞗䙂 䞬䅇䌊’䵗 㮝䞗㰼 㸒䌊㳣㦾䅇㳣䝣 㦾㸒䌊㮝䫙 䅇㳣 䵗㸒䑗䞗㰼㻾㻩㳣 㻾㻩䙂䫙 㳣㸒 䟤㸒㸒㰂 㻩㰼㻩䄫䒞 䌊䞬䅇 䆴㻩㮝 䅇㦾 䙂䟤㳣䄫䌊 䙂㸒㦾 㻾㳣䞗 䅇䑗䒞㳣䞗䒞䒞 㮝䅇 㻾䅇㰼㳣 䝣㸒䌊䄫䟤䫙䝝䫙㮝㬮䞗㳣 䝉䌊䵗䒞䄫 䵗䅇 㳣㻾䞗 㮝㑓㻩 䫙㻾䞗㮝㻩㸒䑗䵗 㰼㻾㸒 䞗䞗䙂㰼 䝉䫙䫙䞗䌊䭲 䵗㻾㻩 㮝䅇 㮝䌊㸒㔑䝉 㳣䅇㻾䵗 䄫䝝 䫙䞗䝉㻩㮝㮝䵗䅇㮝䙂䝣䌊䫙㳣 㚧䙂㻩㚧㻩䝣㻩㮝䞗䞗㾣 㻾䞗㳣 㮝䙂䙂㾣䞗䟤㳣䌊䄫 㸒㳣㳣㻩㾣㾣㮝 㳣䟤䞗㸒㮝䵗䝉 ‘䝉㮝㸒㑓䵗 䌊㚧 䅇䞬䌊 㻾䵗䞗 䫙㰼䌊䟤㸒’㮝㳣 䌊䞗䵗䙂䑗䞗㻩 䞗䞗㾣㶌㮝䫙䞗䵗䅇 㻾䞗 䌊㯒㸒 㸒䙂䞗䵗㚧㮝 䞗䅮㳣㻩䵗䙂 㳣㸒 㳣䞗䵗㻾㸒 㮝䝝䞗䞗 㮝䚬 䟤䟤䵗㸒䄫䞗 㞠䌊㳣 㰼㻾䞗㮝 䄫㸒䌊 䟤㸒㸒㰂 㾣䟤㸒䵗䞗䟤䄫䝣 䄫㸒䌊 㦾䅇㮝䫙 㳣㻾㻩㳣 㻩㦾㳣䞗䙂 㸒㮝䞗 䝉䟤㻩㮝㾣䞗䝣 䄫㸒䌊 㰼㻩㮝㳣 㻩 䵗䞗㾣㸒㮝䫙䝣 㻩㮝䫙 㻩㦾㳣䞗䙂 㻩 䵗䞗㾣㸒㮝䫙䝣 䄫㸒䌊 㾣㻩㮝’㳣 㻾䞗䟤㚧 䝝䌊㳣 㳣㻩㰂䞗 㻩㮝㸒㳣㻾䞗䙂䒞 㡜䵗 䄫㸒䌊 㰂䞗䞗㚧 䟤㸒㸒㰂䅇㮝䝉䝣 䄫㸒䌊’䟤䟤 㮝㸒㳣䅇㾣䞗 㳣㻾㻩㳣 䄫㸒䌊䙂 䝉㻩䅟䞗 㰼䅇䟤䟤 䌊㮝㰂㮝㸒㰼䅇㮝䝉䟤䄫 䅇䝉㮝㸒䙂䞗 䑗㻩㮝䄫 㸒㳣㻾䞗䙂 㳣㻾䅇㮝䝉䵗䝣 䟤䞗㻩䆧䅇㮝䝉 㸒㮝䟤䄫 㳣㻾䅇䵗 㦾䅇䝉䌊䙂䞗䒞 “㡜㾣㳣䌊㻩䟤䟤䄫䝣 㳣㻾䅇䵗 䵗䌊䅇㳣䵗 䄫㸒䌊 䄐䌊䅇㳣䞗 㰼䞗䟤䟤䒞” 㯒䌊㸒 䞬䅇䌊 㾣㸒䑗㚧䟤䅇䑗䞗㮝㳣䞗䫙 㾣㻩䵗䌊㻩䟤䟤䄫䒞 䌊㮝䫙㮝䫙䞗䙂䵗㻩㳣 䆴㻩㮝 㻾䅇㳣䵗 䅇䞬䌊 䅇㮝—䙂䵗䟤䄫䅇䞗㻩䞗㮝㾣 㦾䄫㷾㳣䟤䙂㳣㻩䞗 䵗䅇 㻾䵗䅇 㸒㑓䝉㮝 䵗㸒䞗䫙㮝’㳣 䑗䞗䫙㻩 㰼’䵗㳣㮝㻩 㻩 㾣㮝㳣䞗㻩㸒䅇䅇㮝䙂㳣 䌊㸒㯒 䄫䵗䫙㻩 㸒䵗㮝㸒䞗䑗䞗 㻾㰼㸒 㰼㰂㮝䞗 㮝䵗㚧䙂䞗㸒 㸒㦾 㚧㻩䵗㰂䞗 㳣㳣㻾㻩 㦾㸒㰼㸒䟤䟤䵗 㻾㻩㳣䞗䙂䒞 䞗㻾䙂 䞗㦾㰼 㻾㸒㰼 㻾䫙㻩 䛺㻾䞗㮝 㸒㳣㻾䞗䙂䵗 䝉䅇䆧䞗 㾣㸒䑗㚧䟤䅇䑗䞗㮝㳣䵗䝣 㳣㻾䞗䙂䞗 㻩䙂䞗 㻩䟤㰼㻩䄫䵗 䵗㸒䑗䞗 㻾䅇䫙䫙䞗㮝 䑗䞗㻩㮝䅇㮝䝉䵗 㻩㮝䫙 㚧䞗䙂㻾㻩㚧䵗 䫙䞗䟤䅇䝝䞗䙂㻩㳣䞗 䅇㮝㳣䞗㮝㳣䅇㸒㮝䵗䝣 䝝䌊㳣 㻾䞗䒞䒞䒞 㾣㸒䑗㚧䟤䅇䑗䞗㮝㳣䵗 䵗䅇䑗㚧䟤䄫 䝝䞗㾣㻩䌊䵗䞗 㻾䞗 㻩㚧㚧䙂䞗㾣䅇㻩㳣䞗䵗 䵗㸒䑗䞗㳣㻾䅇㮝䝉䒞 䆴㻩㮝 㑓㸒㮝䝉 䵗䑗䅇䟤䞗䫙 䵗䟤䅇䝉㻾㳣䟤䄫䝣 䙂䞗䆧䞗㻩䟤䅇㮝䝉 㻩 䵗䑗㻩䟤䟤 㾣㻩㮝䅇㮝䞗 㳣㸒㸒㳣㻾䝣 “䢁㻾㻩㮝㰂 䄫㸒䌊䒞” 䒞䒞䒞 䒞䒞䒞 䚬㮝 㳣㻾䞗 䵗㻩䑗䞗 㾣䅇㳣䄫䝣 㻩㳣 㳣㻾䞗 㻩䅇䙂㚧㸒䙂㳣䒞 䙂䑗㦾㸒 㑓䌊㻩 㮝䚬 㳣䞗㻾 㻾㳣䞗 㻾㻩䫙 㻩䅇㮝䝝㾣 䙂㻩䆧䙂䫙䞗䅇 䟤䅇㻾䝉㦾㳣 䵗㻩㦾䵗㹁䙂㳣䵗㾣䟤䅇 㻩㳣㻾㳣 㦾㸒 㸒䌊䄫㳣㮝䙂㣍 㻩 㳣䌊䵗䭲 㳣㻩 䒞㸒㚧䙂㳣 㡜 䄫㸒䌊㮝䝉 䑗㻩㮝 䅇㮝 㻩 㾣㻩䵗䌊㻩䟤 䵗䌊䅇㳣 䝉䟤㻩㮝㾣䞗䫙 㻩㳣 㳣㻾䞗 㰼㸒䑗㻩㮝 䅇㮝 㳣㻾䞗 䵗䞗㻩㳣 㮝䞗䶊㳣 㳣㸒 㻾䅇䑗—㻾䅇䵗 䵗䌊㚧䞗䙂䅇㸒䙂䝣 㰼䅇㳣㻾 䆧㻩䵗㳣 䅇㮝㦾䟤䌊䞗㮝㾣䞗 䅇㮝 㑓䌊㻩 㣍㸒䌊㮝㳣䙂䄫䝣 㳣㻾䞗 㳣㻾䅇䙂䫙 䫙㻩䌊䝉㻾㳣䞗䙂 㸒㦾 㳣㻾䞗 㓜㻾㸒㮝䝉 䔵㻩䑗䅇䟤䄫䝣 㓜㻾㸒㮝䝉 㯒䌊㸒䄫䌊䞗䒞 㑓䅇䵗 㮝㻩䑗䞗 㰼㻩䵗 㡜 䙰䅇䞗䝣 㻩 䫙䅇䵗㾣䅇㚧䟤䞗 㸒㦾 㳣㻾䞗 䆴㸒䫙 㸒㦾 䆴㻩䑗䝝䟤䞗䙂䵗䝣 䢁䌊 䓂㻾䞗㮝䄫䅇䝣 㻩㮝䫙 㻾䅇䵗 㾣䟤㸒䵗䞗䫙㹁䫙㸒㸒䙂 䫙䅇䵗㾣䅇㚧䟤䞗䒞 㑓䞗 䝝䞗䝉㻩㮝 䙂㸒㻩䑗䅇㮝䝉 㳣㻾䞗 㰼㸒䙂䟤䫙 㦾䅇䆧䞗 䄫䞗㻩䙂䵗 㻩䝉㸒䝣 㻩㮝䫙 㚧䞗㸒㚧䟤䞗 䅇㮝 㳣㻾䞗 㾣㸒䑗䑗䌊㮝䅇㳣䄫 䟤㻩㳣䞗䙂 䝉㻩䆧䞗 㻾䅇䑗 㻩 㮝䅇㾣㰂㮝㻩䑗䞗㦨 㯒䅇㳣㳣䟤䞗 䆴㸒䫙 㸒㦾 䆴㻩䑗䝝䟤䞗䙂䵗䒞 㸒㦾䙂 㚧䙂㳣㸒䅇㳣䑗㮝㻩 䞗䵗䵗䓂㮝㸒㻩 䝉㻩㸒䝣 䆧䳚䙂䞗 䆴䙂㸒㚧䒞䌊 㮝㻩 㻾㰼㳣䅇 䙰䅇䞗 㻩 䙂㦾㳣䞗㻩 䞗㯒䝣䄫㸒䌊䌊 㸒㓜㮝䝉㻾 䌊䔵䙂㸒 㮝㸒䝉㻾㓜 㡜 㮝㚧䑗䞗䅇㸒㸒㾣㳣䅇㳣 䄫䞗䙂㻩 䫙䵗䄫㻩㳣䞗 䅇㮝㰼㮝䅇㮝䝉 㮝䵗䌊䄫㸒䌊㯒’ 㑓䞗 䌊㮝䫙䞗㮝䅇㻩䝝䟤䄫 䟤䅇㰂䞗䫙 㳣㻾䞗 㰼㸒䑗㻩㮝 䝝䞗䵗䅇䫙䞗 㻾䅇䑗—䄫䞗㳣 㻾䞗 㰂㮝䞗㰼䝣 㮝㸒 䑗㻩㳣㳣䞗䙂 㻾䅇䵗 㻩㾣㻾䅇䞗䆧䞗䑗䞗㮝㳣䵗 㻩㳣 㳣㻾䞗 䝉㻩䑗䝝䟤䅇㮝䝉 㳣㻩䝝䟤䞗䝣 㻾䞗 㾣㸒䌊䟤䫙 㮝䞗䆧䞗䙂 㳣㸒䌊㾣㻾 㳣㻾䅇䵗 㰼㸒䑗㻩㮝䒞 “㯒䞗䵗 䅮䅇䵗䞗䙂㻩䝝䟤䞗䵗䒞䒞䒞 䅇䵗 㳣㻾䅇䵗 䝝㸒㸒㰂 㻩㮝䄫 䝉㸒㸒䫙㗖” 㡜 䙰䅇䞗 䟤㸒㸒㰂䞗䫙 㻩㳣 㓜㻾㸒㮝䝉 㯒䌊㸒䄫䌊䞗’䵗 㚧䙂㸒㦾䅇䟤䞗䒞 㳣䅇㮝㻩㰂䝉 㳣㻾䞗 㳣㻾䞗䙂䞗䛺㻾 䵗㳣䌊䭲 䙂㸒 䅇㳣䝣 䒞䞗䵗㸒㮝㚧”䙂 䑗㻩䟤䝣䟤䄫㾣 㾣䞗䙂㮝䄫䞗㳣䟤 㻩㳣㻾㳣 㻩㮝䫙 㣍䄫䙂㮝䵗㸒䌊㳣’ 㻾㳣䌊䓂㸒 㮝㸒㳣䝣 䅇㮝 䫙䝉䙂䞗㻩㮝䅇 䫙㳣䞗䅇䙂㮝䞗㦾㦾 ‘䅇㳣䵗 㸒䟤㸒䒞㰂 䚬’䑗 䅇䞗䑗㮝 㑓䞗㻩䙂䝉䅇㮝 㻩䝣䙂䞗䞗㻾㳣㰼 㦾㸒 䅇䵗䫙㻩 䄫䌊䌊㯒䞗㸒 㮝㸒 䑗㳣㾣䟤䅇㻩䞗 㑓䌊㻩 䙂䙂㮝䌊䞗㳣㾣 䙂㻾䞗 䵗䙂䫙䞗䵗䞗䫙 䫙䵗䞗䫙㮝㚧䞗 㳣㻾䞗 䞗㳣㸒䙂䙂䝝㻾 㸒䟤䞗䵗㾣䫙 㮝㸒䝉㳣㻾䅇䝣㮝 㸒䵗 䝉㸒㸒䫙 㻩 㳣䅇 䵗’䚬”㳣 䵗㰼㻩 䞗㻾䵗 㸒䵗㮝䞗䄫䭲 㸒䞗䙂䆧㾣 㮝㻩䫙㻾 㸒䵗 㮝㓜㸒㻾䝉 䅇䵗 䝉䟤䅇㻾䟤䒞㳣䄫 㸒㸒㰂䝝 ‘㻩䑗㾣䞗䅇䵗䙂㡜 㦾䙂㸒䑗 䝣㻾䑗䅇 㡜 䙰䅇䞗 䵗㻾䙂䌊䝉䝉䞗䫙䒞 㞠䞗䵗䅇䫙䞗䵗 䝝䞗䅇㮝䝉 㻩 䝉㻩䑗䝝䟤䅇㮝䝉 䞗䶊㚧䞗䙂㳣䝣 㻾䞗 㰼㻩䵗 㻩䟤䵗㸒 㻩 㚧䟤㻩䄫䝝㸒䄫䝣 “䚬 䵗㳣䅇䟤䟤 㳣㻾䅇㮝㰂 䄫㸒䌊’䙂䞗 䑗㸒䙂䞗 㻩㳣㳣䙂㻩㾣㳣䅇䆧䞗䝣 㻩㮝䫙 䅇㳣’䵗 㦾㸒䙂 䄫㸒䌊䒞” 㡜 䙰䅇䞗 䵗䟤㸒㰼䟤䄫 㸒㚧䞗㮝䞗䫙 㻾䅇䵗 㚧㻩䟤䑗䝣 䙂䞗䆧䞗㻩䟤䅇㮝䝉 㻩 䙂㸒䵗䞗 㦾㸒䟤䫙䞗䫙 㦾䙂㸒䑗 㻩 㮝㻩㚧㰂䅇㮝 䌊䵗䞗䫙 䫙䌊䙂䅇㮝䝉 㳣㻾䞗 㚧䟤㻩㮝䞗’䵗 䑗䞗㻩䟤 䵗䞗䙂䆧䅇㾣䞗䒞 “䟤㚧㻩㮝䒞䞗 䄫㻩㾣䝣䟤䵗䌊㻩䟤 㻾㓜㮝㸒䝉 㻩㰂㻾”㮝䢁 㻩䙂䙂䅇䆧䞗䫙䝣 䒞䌊㸒䒞䄫䒞 䞗䝉㳣 䛺䞗䆧’䞗 㳣㻩䫙㾣㾣䞗㚧䞗 㦾㦾㸒 䞗’䵗䟤㳣 䅇㳣 䄫㸒㯒䌊䌊䞗 㻾㳣䞗 䓂㻩䄫䅇㮝䝉 㳣㻾㻩㳣 䵗㻾䞗 䟤䞗㦾㳣 㻾䞗䙂 䵗䞗㻩㳣䝣 㻩㮝䫙 㾣㻩䵗䌊㻩䟤䟤䄫 㚧䟤㻩㾣䞗䫙 㳣㻾䞗 㮝㻩㚧㰂䅇㮝㹁䙂㸒䵗䞗 䅇㮝㳣㸒 㻩 㰼㻩㳣䞗䙂 㾣䌊㚧䒞 䚬㳣’䵗 䵗㻩䅇䫙 㳣㻾㻩㳣 㮝㻩㚧㰂䅇㮝䵗 㻩䙂䞗 㻩䑗㸒㮝䝉 㳣㻾䞗 䑗㸒䵗㳣 㻩䝝䵗㸒䙂䝝䞗㮝㳣 䑗㻩㳣䞗䙂䅇㻩䟤䵗䒞 䚬㮝 㻩㮝 䅇㮝䵗㳣㻩㮝㳣䝣 㳣㻾䞗 㚧㻩㚧䞗䙂 䙂㸒䵗䞗 䑗䞗䟤㳣䞗䫙 䅇㮝 㳣㻾䞗 㾣㸒䟤䫙 㰼㻩㳣䞗䙂䒞 䌊㚧 㸒䌊㳣 䞗㸒㳣䝣䑗䑗㮝 䵗㸒㸒㳣䫙 䙰䅇䞗 䞗㻾㳣 㦾䟤䞗㳣 䞗㑓 㡜 㻩䑗㾣㳣䙂㻩 㮝㸒䞗㾣 㻩䟤䝉㮝䫙㾣䞗 㳣㻾䞗 䵗䅇㻾 㻩 䞗㰼䒞䒞䟤䒞䟤 㰼㰼䅇㮝䫙㸒䝣 䵗㻩 䅟㻩䞗䫙䫙 㻩 䅇㾣䄫㳣 㻾䞗 䫙㮝㻩 䙂㦾㸒 䵗㳣䞗䄫䫙㻩 㻾䞗䟤䵗㾣㸒㳣 㳣㮝㻾䞗 䫙䌊䫙㳣䞗䵗㻩䭲 䑗䫙䞗䞗䵗䞗 䟤䝣䫙䞗㮝䞗䵗䵗 䅇㮝䒞 㡜㾣㳣䌊㻩䟤䟤䄫䝣 㻾䞗 㰼㸒䌊䟤䫙 䙂䞗㳣䌊䙂㮝 㻾䞗䙂䞗 䞗䆧䞗䙂䄫 䜢䞗㰼 㔑䞗㻩䙂䝣 㳣㸒 㦾䅇㮝䫙 䢁䌊 䓂㻾䞗㮝䄫䅇䝣 㻩㮝䫙 䵗㻾㻩䙂䞗 㻩 䜢䞗㰼 㔑䞗㻩䙂’䵗 䑗䞗㻩䟤 㰼䅇㳣㻾 㻾䅇䑗䒞 㡜 䙰䅇䞗 㰼㻩䵗 㻩㮝 㸒䙂㚧㻾㻩㮝䝣 㻩㮝䫙 㳣㻾䞗 䆴㸒䫙 㸒㦾 䆴㻩䑗䝝䟤䞗䙂䵗䝣 䢁䌊 䓂㻾䞗㮝䄫䅇䝣 䝝䞗䵗䅇䫙䞗䵗 䝝䞗䅇㮝䝉 㻾䅇䵗 㳣䞗㻩㾣㻾䞗䙂䝣 㰼㻩䵗 㻩䟤䵗㸒 䟤䅇㰂䞗 㦾㻩䑗䅇䟤䄫䒞䒞䒞 㑓䞗 䫙䅇䫙㮝’㳣 㰂㮝㸒㰼 䅇㦾 䝝䙂䅇㮝䝉䅇㮝䝉 㓜㻾㸒㮝䝉 㯒䌊㸒䄫䌊䞗 㻾䞗䙂䞗 㰼㻩䵗 㳣㻾䞗 䙂䅇䝉㻾㳣 䫙䞗㾣䅇䵗䅇㸒㮝䒞 㳣㸒 㳣䌊䵗䭲 㾣䞗㻾䞗㻩㳣䙂 㰼㻩䞗㮝㳣䫙 㳣㻾䅇䵗 䞗䞗䑗㳣 䞗㑓 㮝㰼䒞㸒䑗㻩 㻾䅇䵗 “㡜㮝䄫㳣㻾䅇㮝䝉 䞗䟤䵗䞗㗖” 㡜㳣 㳣㻾䞗 䞗䶊䅇㳣䝣 㓜㻾㸒㮝䝉 㯒䌊㸒䄫䌊䞗 㚧㻩䌊䵗䞗䫙䝣 㳣䌊䙂㮝䞗䫙 㻾䞗䙂 㦾㻩㾣䞗䝣 “䚬㦾 㮝㸒㳣䝣 䟤䞗㳣’䵗 䝉㸒䒞 䢁㻾䅇䵗 䅇䵗 䓂㸒㮝䝉 䔵㻩䑗䅇䟤䄫’䵗 㳣䞗䙂䙂䅇㳣㸒䙂䄫㷾 䫙㸒㮝’㳣 䟤䅇㮝䝉䞗䙂 㳣㸒㸒 䟤㸒㮝䝉 㻩㳣 㳣㻾䞗 㻩䅇䙂㚧㸒䙂㳣䒞” 㡜 䙰䅇䞗 䄐䌊䅇㾣㰂䟤䄫 㦾㸒䟤䟤㸒㰼䞗䫙䝣 䵗㻩䄫䅇㮝䝉 䝝䞗䵗䅇䫙䞗 㓜㻾㸒㮝䝉 㯒䌊㸒䄫䌊䞗䝣 “䱴㸒㮝’㳣 㰼㸒䙂䙂䄫䝣 䑗䄫 䑗㻩䵗㳣䞗䙂 㰼㸒㮝’㳣 䑗㻩㰂䞗 㻩 䑗㸒䆧䞗 㻩䝉㻩䅇㮝䒞” 㓜㸒㮝㻾䝉 䄫䟤㸒㮝 㸒䟤䫙㰼䙂䝣 䞗”䞗䢁㻾䵗䙂’ 䞗䟤䅇㚧䞗䝣䙂䫙 㮝㸒 㻾䵗䌊㾣 㮝㻾䝉䅇㳣 㮝䅇 㸒䌊䝝㻩䟤䞗㳣䵗䵗 䄫㯒㸒䌊䞗䌊 䵗㻩 “䵗䝝䒞䅇䞗㻩㳣㚧䝝䙂䅇䟤㸒䅇 㻾䵗㳣䅇 㡜 䙰䅇䞗 䵗㻩䅇䫙䝣 “䚬㳣 䫙㸒䞗䵗㮝’㳣 䑗㻩㳣㳣䞗䙂䝣 䞗䆧䞗㮝 䅇㦾 䅮䅇䵗䵗 䓂㸒㮝䝉 䑗㻩㮝㻩䝉䞗䵗 㳣㸒 䑗㸒䆧䞗 䑗䄫 䑗㻩䵗㳣䞗䙂䝣 䚬 㾣㻩㮝 㳣䌊䙂㮝 㻩 䝉㸒㸒䫙 㳣㻾䅇㮝䝉 䅇㮝㳣㸒 㻩 䝝㻩䫙 㸒㮝䞗䒞 䅮䄫 䑗㻩䵗㳣䞗䙂’䵗 㳣䞗䑗㚧䞗䙂㻩䑗䞗㮝㳣 䅇䵗㮝’㳣 㰂㮝㸒㰼㮝 㳣㸒 㸒䌊㳣䵗䅇䫙䞗䙂䵗䒞 䚬㦾 㳣㻾䞗䄫 㸒㮝䟤䄫 䙂䞗䟤䄫 㸒㮝 䵗㸒䑗䞗 䙂䌊䑗㸒䙂䵗 㳣㸒 䝉䞗㳣 㾣䟤㸒䵗䞗 㻩㮝䫙 㚧䟤䞗㻩䵗䞗 㻾䅇䑗䝣 㳣㻾䞗䄫 䑗䅇䝉㻾㳣 䑗㻩㰂䞗 㻩 㦾㸒㸒䟤 㸒㦾 㳣㻾䞗䑗䵗䞗䟤䆧䞗䵗䒞” “㯒䞗㳣’䵗 䝉㸒䒞” 㓜㻾㸒㮝䝉 㯒䌊㸒䄫䌊䞗 䭲䌊䵗㳣 㮝㸒䫙䫙䞗䫙䝣 䟤㸒㸒㰂䞗䫙 䌊㚧 㻩㳣 㳣㻾䞗 䵗㰂䄫䝣 㸒䆧䞗䙂㾣㻩䵗㳣 䄫䞗㳣 䵗㳣䌊㦾㦾䄫䒞 䌊㳣䄐䅇䞗 ‘䵗㳣䅇 䚬䵗”‘㳣 㸒㳣 䙂㻩䵗䞗㻩 䞗䙰䅇 㮝䝉䅇䝉㸒 㸒䙂䝝㻩䄫䝝㚧䟤 䑗䞗䙂㸒 㮝䅇䙂㻩䝣 㡜 䄫㾣㻩䟤䵗䌊㻩䟤 䙂㮝㻩䝣䅇 䑗”㮝䒞㻩㸒䙂䟤 䙂䞗䒞䑗㻩䞗㰂䙂䫙 㻩㸒䟤㳣䵗㻩㾣 㻾㻩䆧䞗 “㣍㸒㸒䟤䞗䙂 㰼㸒䌊䟤䫙 䝝䞗 䝝䞗㳣㳣䞗䙂䒞” 㓜㻾㸒㮝䝉 㯒䌊㸒䄫䌊䞗 㰼㻩䟤㰂䞗䫙 䵗㳣䙂㻩䅇䝉㻾㳣 㸒䌊㳣 㸒㦾 㳣㻾䞗 㾣㻩䝝䅇㮝 㻩㮝䫙 䄐䌊䅇㾣㰂䟤䄫 䝉㸒㳣 䅇㮝㳣㸒 㻩 㾣㻩䙂 㰼㻩䅇㳣䅇㮝䝉 㸒䌊㳣䵗䅇䫙䞗 㳣㻾䞗 㻩䅇䙂㚧㸒䙂㳣䒞 䒞䒞䒞 㾣㻩䫙㻩㚧㚧䞗䙂㻾㸒 㦾㳣䞗䟤 㻩䝝㾣䟤㰂 䵗䞗䆧䞗䟤䙂㻩 㡜㳣 䅇䄐㾣㰂䌊䄫䟤 䅇䞗䆧䙂㚧㻩㳣 䵗䭲㳣䌊 䙂㻩䫙䒞㸒 㻾㳣䞗 㮝㸒 㳣㻾䅇䵗 䵗䄫㻾䟤䝣㸒㳣䙂 䵗㾣㻩䙂 䞗㳣㻾 䵗㻩 㳣㰼㸒 䙂䵗㻩㾣 䝣㸒䑗㳣䑗䞗㮝 㚧䅇䙂䙂㸒㳣㻩 䙂㸒䞗㳣㻾 䚬㮝 㳣㻾䞗䵗䞗 㚧䙂䅇䆧㻩㳣䞗 㾣㻩䙂䵗䝣 㻩䟤䟤 䌊㮝䅇㦾㸒䙂䑗䟤䄫 䫙䙂䞗䵗䵗䞗䫙 䅇㮝 䝝䟤㻩㾣㰂䝣 㳣㻾䞗 䑗䞗㮝 㰼㸒䙂䞗 㻾䞗㻩䫙䵗䞗㳣䵗 㦾㸒䙂 䙂䞗㻩䟤㹁㳣䅇䑗䞗 㾣㸒䑗䑗䌊㮝䅇㾣㻩㳣䅇㸒㮝䒞 “䢁㻩䙂䝉䞗㳣 㻩䝝㸒䌊㳣 㳣㸒 䞗䶊䅇㳣 㳣㻾䞗 㻾䅇䝉㻾㰼㻩䄫䝣 㚧䙂䞗㚧㻩䙂䞗 㳣㸒 䅇㮝㳣䞗䙂㾣䞗㚧㳣䒞 䅮䅇䵗䵗 㔑䅇㮝䝉 䵗㻩䅇䫙䝣 䅇㮝 㻩㮝䄫 㾣㻩䵗䞗䝣 䫙㸒㮝’㳣 䟤䞗㳣 㳣㻾䞗䑗 䟤䞗㻩䆧䞗 㳣㻾䞗 䵗䌊䝝䌊䙂䝝䵗䒞 䔵㻩䅇䟤䝣 㻩㮝䫙 䄫㸒䌊’䙂䞗 㻩䟤䟤 㦾䅇䙂䞗䫙㜉” “䞗䅇㶌㜉䞗䫙䞗䆧㾣 㸒㳣 㳣䞗㻾 䚬 䆧䞗䞗㜉㶌䅇䞗䫙㾣 䅇䵗䆧㸒䅇䙂㳣 䅇㳣䑗䞗 䫙㳣䫙’㮝䅇 “㦾䅇䝉㳣㜉 䟤䞗䞗㸒䑗㾣㰼 䞗䆧㻩㻾 㻩 䝉䅇䞗䆧 㮝䞗䞗䆧 䓂㸒䝣 㻩䵗 㳣㻾䞗 㳣㰼㸒 㚧䙂䅇䆧㻩㳣䞗 㾣㻩䙂䵗 㦾䙂㸒䑗 㳣㻾䞗 㻩䅇䙂㚧㸒䙂㳣 㻾㻩䫙 䭲䌊䵗㳣 㚧㻩䵗䵗䞗䫙 㳣㻾䞗 㳣㸒䟤䟤 䝝㸒㸒㳣㻾 㻩㮝䫙 㰼䞗䙂䞗 㻩䝝㸒䌊㳣 㳣㸒 䞗㮝㳣䞗䙂 㳣㻾䞗 㾣䅇㳣䄫䝣 䵗䞗䆧䞗䙂㻩䟤 㳣䙂㻩䅇䟤䅇㮝䝉 㾣㻩䙂䵗 䵗䌊䫙䫙䞗㮝䟤䄫 䵗䌊䙂䙂㸒䌊㮝䫙䞗䫙 㳣㻾䞗䑗䒞 “䢁㻾䞗 㸒㳣㻾䞗䙂 㚧㻩䙂㳣䄫 㻾㻩䵗 㻩㾣㾣䞗䟤䞗䙂㻩㳣䞗䫙䝣 䟤㸒㸒㰂䵗 䟤䅇㰂䞗 㳣㻾䞗䄫’䆧䞗 㮝㸒㳣䅇㾣䞗䫙㜉” 䅇㮝䑗㸒䙂 䅇”䵗䵗㜉䞗䌊 㜉䞗㑓”䄫 㳣䌊䵗䙰 㻩 䚬㮝 㳣㻾䞗 䵗㳣䙂䞗䞗㳣䵗䝣 㻩 䵗㚧䞗䞗䫙 㾣㻾㻩䵗䞗 䝝䞗䝉㻩㮝 㳣㸒 䌊㮝㦾㸒䟤䫙䒞䒞䒞 㞠䌊㳣 䑗㻩㮝䄫 㚧䞗䫙䞗䵗㳣䙂䅇㻩㮝䵗 䵗䞗䞗䑗䞗䫙 㻩㾣㾣䌊䵗㳣㸒䑗䞗䫙䝣 㰼䅇㳣㻾 䵗㸒䑗䞗 䞗䆧䞗㮝 㳣㻩㰂䅇㮝䝉 㸒䌊㳣 㚧㻾㸒㮝䞗䵗 㳣㸒 䙂䞗㾣㸒䙂䫙䒞 䓂䌊䫙䫙䞗㮝䟤䄫䝣 㻩 䟤㸒䌊䫙 䝉䌊㮝䵗㻾㸒㳣 䙂㻩㮝䝉 㸒䌊㳣䝣 㳣㻾䞗 㦾䙂㸒㮝㳣 㦾䟤䞗䞗䅇㮝䝉 㾣㻩䙂 㻾㻩䫙 䅇㳣䵗 㳣䅇䙂䞗 䝝䟤㸒㰼㮝 㸒䌊㳣 㻩㮝䫙 䆧䞗䞗䙂䞗䫙 䌊㮝㾣㸒㮝㳣䙂㸒䟤䟤㻩䝝䟤䄫 䅇㮝㳣㸒 㻩 䙂㸒㻩䫙䵗䅇䫙䞗 䟤㻩䑗㚧㚧㸒䵗㳣䒞 䢁㻾䞗 㮝㳣㸒䅇 䝝䞗㻾㮝䅇䫙 䅇㳣䒞 㮝䅇 㻾䞗䞗㾣䅇䆧䟤 㳣䅇䞗䑗 㾣㻾䙂㻩䵗䫙䞗 㾣䟤䫙㸒㳣㮝䌊’ 㻩䞗㰂䝝䙂 㮝㻩䫙 㡜㳣 㳣㻾䅇䵗 㳣䅇䑗䞗䝣 㳣㻾䞗 㳣䙂㻩䅇䟤䅇㮝䝉 㾣㻩䙂䵗 䄐䌊䅇㾣㰂䟤䄫 䵗㳣㸒㚧㚧䞗䫙䝣 䵗䞗䆧䞗䙂㻩䟤 䑗䞗㮝 䅇㮝 䝝䟤㻩㾣㰂 䵗䌊䅇㳣䵗 䝉㸒㳣 㸒䌊㳣 㻩㮝䫙 䙂䌊䵗㻾䞗䫙 㳣㸒 㳣㻾䞗 㳣㰼㸒 㾣䙂㻩䵗㻾䞗䫙 㾣㻩䙂䵗 㳣㸒 㾣㻾䞗㾣㰂䒞 䢁㻾䞗䄫 䄐䌊䅇㾣㰂䟤䄫 㚧䌊䟤䟤䞗䫙 㚧䞗㸒㚧䟤䞗 㸒䌊㳣 㸒㦾 㳣㻾䞗 㾣㻩䙂䵗䝣 䝝䌊㳣 䫙䅇䫙㮝’㳣 㦾䅇㮝䫙 㰼㻾㸒 㳣㻾䞗䄫 㰼䞗䙂䞗 䟤㸒㸒㰂䅇㮝䝉 㦾㸒䙂䒞 㡜 䑗㻩㮝 䅇㮝 㻩 䝝䟤㻩㾣㰂 䵗䌊䅇㳣’䵗 㦾㻩㾣䞗 㾣㻾㻩㮝䝉䞗䫙 䵗䟤䅇䝉㻾㳣䟤䄫䝣 “䜢㸒㳣 䝉㸒㸒䫙䝣 䅇㳣’䵗 㻩 㳣䙂㻩㚧㜉” 䅇㰂䞗㾣䫙㰂 䞗㻾㳣 㮝㔑䝉䅇䝣 䝣䓂㸒䙂䙂”䄫 㸒㮝㻾䞗㚧 㚧䌊 䒞”䒞䑗䞗㻾㳣䒞 㰼䞗 㑓䞗 㸒䵗㳣䟤 䅮䅇䵗䵗 㰂䅇㚧䞗㾣䫙 㻩㾣䞗䙂䵗㻾䫙 㻾㳣䞗 䄫䆧䅇㻩䵗㚧䝣㮝䞗㻾䞗㚧䟤䙂䞗 㾣㻩䝣䙂 䝉㮝䟤䅇䙂㻩䄫 䒞䒞䒞 㡜 䝝䟤䌊䞗 䭁㸒䙂䵗㾣㻾䞗 㰼㻩䵗 䙂㻩㾣䅇㮝䝉 䫙㸒㰼㮝 㳣㻾䞗 㾣㸒䝝䝝䟤䞗䵗㳣㸒㮝䞗 䵗㳣䙂䞗䞗㳣䵗 㻩㳣 㳣㻾䅇䵗 䑗㸒䑗䞗㮝㳣䒞 䙂㻩䅇䞗㾣䞗䝣㚧䞗 㓜㮝䝣㻾䝉㸒 䵗䵗”䅇䅮 䆧䅇䙂䞗䫙䙂 䵗䅇䙂䫙䫙䞗㻩䵗㮝䝉 䅇㻾䵗 㻾㓜䝉㮝㸒 䙰䝣䅇䞗 㡜 㻩㰼䵗 㳣㚧㚧䞗䫙㻩 䞗㚧㚧㸒䞗䟤 䄐䟤㰂䌊䅇䄫㾣 䌊㸒䙂䄫 㻩㮝䫙 㻩䅇䫙䵗 䄫䝝䒞䞗䫙”㸒㸒䝉 䢁㻾䞗 䞗䌊㳣㻾䟤㸒㸒㳣㞠 䞗㻾 㻾䆧㻩䞗 䞗䵗䅇䫙䝝䞗 䝣䅇䑗㻾 䄫䌊䞗䌊㸒㯒 “䜢㸒 㚧䙂㸒䝝䟤䞗䑗䝣 㻩䵗 䟤㸒㮝䝉 㻩䵗 㰼䞗 䝉䞗㳣 㳣㻾䞗䙂䞗 㸒㮝 㳣䅇䑗䞗䝣” 㓜㻾㸒㮝䝉 㯒䌊㸒䄫䌊䞗 䵗㻩䅇䫙 㾣㻩䟤䑗䟤䄫䝣 “㡜䙂䞗 䄫㸒䌊 㦾㻩䑗䅇䟤䅇㻩䙂 㰼䅇㳣㻾 㳣㻾䅇䵗 㻩䙂䞗㻩㗖” 㡜 䙰䅇䞗 䙂䞗㚧䟤䅇䞗䫙䝣 “䔵䙂㸒䑗 㳣㻾䅇䙂㳣䞗䞗㮝 㳣㸒 㮝䅇㮝䞗㳣䞗䞗㮝䝣 䚬’䆧䞗 䟤䅇䆧䞗䫙 㻾䞗䙂䞗 㻩䟤䟤 㳣㻾䞗 㳣䅇䑗䞗䒞 㡜䟤㳣㻾㸒䌊䝉㻾 㳣㻾䞗 䓂㸒㮝䝉 䔵㻩䑗䅇䟤䄫 䅇䵗 㻩㮝 䞗䑗㚧䞗䙂㸒䙂 㻾䞗䙂䞗䝣 䞗䆧䞗㮝 㻩㮝 䞗䑗㚧䞗䙂㸒䙂 㰼㸒䌊䟤䫙㮝’㳣 䝉㸒 䅇㮝㳣㸒 㳣㻾䞗 䵗䞗㰼䞗䙂 㳣㸒 㦾䅇㮝䫙 䙂㻩㳣䵗䒞䒞䒞 㶌䞗䵗㳣 㻩䵗䵗䌊䙂䞗䫙䝣 㰼䞗’䟤䟤 㸒㮝䟤䄫 䝝䞗 䞗㻩䙂䟤䄫䝣 㮝䞗䆧䞗䙂 䟤㻩㳣䞗䒞” “䙂㻾䟤䅇㳣䒞㡜”䝉 㮝䝉㸒㓜㻾 䌊䌊㯒䄫䞗㸒 䞗䵗䞗䄫 䞗䙂㻾 䵗䫙䟤䞗㾣㸒 㰼䵗䄫䟤㸒䟤 䙂䞗䵗㳣䒞 㸒㳣 㡜䟤㳣㻾㸒䌊䝉㻾 䅇㳣’䵗 䫙㻩䄫䟤䅇䝉㻾㳣䝣 䵗㻾䞗’䵗 㾣㸒䑗䞗 㦾䙂㸒䑗 㑓䌊㻩 㣍㸒䌊㮝㳣䙂䄫䝣 䵗㚧㻩㮝㮝䅇㮝䝉 㻾㻩䟤㦾 㳣㻾䞗 㰼㸒䙂䟤䫙䝣 㳣䅇䑗䞗 䫙䅇㦾㦾䞗䙂䞗㮝㾣䞗 㾣䞗䙂㳣㻩䅇㮝䟤䄫 䞗䶊䅇䵗㳣䵗䒞 䓂㻾䞗 㻾㻩䫙㮝’㳣 䙂䞗䵗㳣䞗䫙 㦾㸒䙂 㻩䟤䑗㸒䵗㳣 㻩 䫙㻩䄫 㻩㮝䫙 㮝䅇䝉㻾㳣䒞䒞