Chapter 960: Chapter 4: The Strongest Man on Earth
“Please, give me another two days!”
“If you don’t have money, don’t rent a house!”
Just like that, Suzuki’s belongings were tossed out in an instant.
Suzuki picked up his only bag, feeling a bit dejected, then casually slung it over his back. He planned to check the nearby construction site for temporary work—having only a few hundred yen left meant even a bowl of plain ramen was a severe struggle.
Yet, he never lost faith in life… Maybe because he’s a fool—Suzuki somehow always felt that every moment in this world was a gain, so he had never been particularly sad.
He remembered his late mother once saying that his arrival into this world was a great miracle—for his parents.
Like a miraculous life, as long as one is alive, any difficulty can be overe, right?
Grumble—!!!
“First… let’s solve the dinner problem, alright?”
…
The nearby construction site didn’t need any temp workers, a blow to Suzuki’s plan. But he recalled the manager from the club, wondering how he handled things in the end.
Suddenly, he began to feel worried.
Suzuki decided to secretly go back to the club… at least to thank the manager properly.
He quickly arrived at his previous workplace and crept around to the back door. Without any means of munication—having discarded his phone when he ran away from home—
Just as Suzuki was about to knock, the club’s back door swung open unexpectedly. Out of habit, Suzuki chose to hide—nimble as a monkey, he swiftly climbed up a nearby drainpipe.
He saw a familiar employee from the club acpanying a police officer ing out.
Could it be that the manager really called the police?
Suzuki listened nervously.
“That’s all I know about this Suzuki situation.”
The club employee answered nervously, “He seems to have no mobile phone; it was the manager who brought him from outside. The manager said he found him sleeping alone by the roadside, looking pitiful… I really didn’t expect he’d do such a thing, killing the manager and two female guests! Truly merciless!”
“We will intensify our search for this fugitive.” The officer nodded, “Now show me around; I need to examine the surroundings for any suspicious traces left behind.”
“Okay!” The employee nodded—yet the moment he felt something pressing against him.
Something heavy pushed him to the ground. Horrified, he turned to see, shouted in panic, “Su—Suzuki… Suzuki!! Help!! Help!!”
Suzuki crouched on the employee’s back, clutching his hair, “Hey, what did you just say? Who did I kill?”
“Don’t move! Raise your hands!”
The officer hurriedly drew his gun, unusually tense, “You can’t escape… are you Suzuki? Suzuki Natsuya…”
The officer’s expression shifted from tension, surprise, and then to fear!
For he recognized the ‘murderer Suzuki’s’ true identity—it’s likely most officers in the Kanto Region had been informed about who this young man really was.
The Young Head of the Suzuki-kai, acclaimed as the strongest man on earth… rumored to flip cars bare-handed, an existence akin to Non-Human!
“Hello!” Suzuki waved as if greeting the officer, then lifted the club employee’s head again, “Hey! Tell me quickly, why I killed the manager and the female guests! Explain to me clearly! Or else I’ll kill you!!”
Probably accustomed to the ‘Active Organization’s’ ways, Suzuki’s face twisted into one resembling a Devil, frightening the club employee into shivering, shouting for help from the officer.
“Suzuki Natsuya! Don’t act recklessly! This is a legal society!” The officer shakily warned, leg trembling.
“Don’t bother me!” Suzuki glared, fiercely staring at the officer, then strode over.
The officer quickly retreated, “Don’t… don’t act recklessly! I-I can still shoot!!”
Suzuki showed no emotion, moving directly to the officer’s face, his chest even touching the officer’s gun.
The officer shivered—never throughout his career had he shot a gun outside of school or the shooting club.
“You… you’ve forced me!”
“I said don’t bother me!”
The menacing gaze and terrifying shout made the officer turn pale, his mind blank. He instinctively closed his eyes, raising his sagging gun unexpectedly, under stress and terror—the officer fired the trigger.
Bang—!!
The sound of a gunshot echoed in the alley, then the world turned quiet. The officer only heard buzzing in his ears.
He opened his eyes in fear, sighed when he saw Suzuki Natsuya standing alive in front of him. But he also saw a scarlet blood trace on Suzuki Natsuya’s cheek—the bullet must’ve grazed him.
The officer’s brain froze, Suzuki Natsuya reached up, feeling his cheek, then grabbed the officer’s hand holding the gun, twisted it hard.
“Ah!”
The officer cried out, stumbling backward, nervously fell to the ground—yet his gun had already fallen into Suzuki Natsuya’s hand.
Scrambling up, the officer fled from the club alley without thinking… leaving only Suzuki Natsuya and the terrified club employee behind.
“Can you tell me now, why did I kill the manager or not?” Suzuki Natsuya walked to the employee, looking down.
…
“…28th Street, it’s here, right?”
Suzuki looked up at the building—the address given by the club employee, should be correct.
——I don’t know anything, just heard that if you want to find out, go to this address.
Having beat up his former colleague, Suzuki followed the address here—with missing the bus stop along the way, Suzuki didn’t arrive until after nine at night.
“Room 709, this is the place… Kumano?” Suzuki looked somewhat surprised at the surname in front of the room number.
This was the surname of the manager of the bar… It seems I heard from the manager that he lived nearby, could this be the manager’s home?
“Is anyone home?” Suzuki pressed the doorbell, but after waiting for a while, there was no response.
He frowned and reached out to push the door, discovering that it wasn’t locked, “Excuse me, is anyone home? I’m Suzuki… Excuse me, is anyone home? I’m ing in! Sorry to disturb!”
The lights inside the room were off, but Suzuki quickly caught an unpleasant smell—one he was not unfamiliar with; it was the smell of blood.
He directly turned on the lights of the house at the entrance. As the light filled the room in an instant, Suzuki’s pupils contracted slightly.
In the hallway, on the walls, even on the ceiling, were patches of dark red splattered bloodstains, already dried… The bloodstains on the floor, probably left by the victim as they crawled.
Suzuki took a deep breath, easily constructing such a scene in his mind from these scattered bloodstains.
The victim must have been so desperate, crawling in fear towards the inside of the house before the perpetrator… Suzuki closed his eyes, exhaling slowly, and then proceeded towards the interior.
The living room was a typical pact layout, tight yet not cramped, likely due to the owner’s careful arrangement—however, now the living room appeared exceptionally chaotic, probably having endured a fight.
A face long turned pale was now facing Suzuki—that was a woman’s corpse hung from the living room ceiling, about forty years old.
Her body was covered with marks like those left by beast’s claws tearing—it was a thorough torture.
Suzuki exhaled once more; on the cabinet in the living room were some family photos of this household. Suzuki saw in the photos the Kumano Manager who took care of him, and also this tortured woman… She was probably the manager’s wife.
“I’m very sorry.”
Suzuki knelt in front of the woman’s corpse and then lowered her from the ceiling—only, just at the moment he lowered Kumano Manager’s wife, Suzuki’s head suddenly lifted.
“We meet again!”
From the hallway at the entrance now stood two young men, Kenji and Takashi.
Takashi was the one who used Western boxing, whereas Kenji was the one who was initially knocked out by Suzuki Natsuya—they are both here now, so the cause of the tragic incident in this house is already quite clear.
“Surprise, unexpected?” Kenji leaned against the wall, looking at Suzuki Natsuya with a mocking smile.
As for Takashi, he was clenching his fist, his knuckles cracking, “Last time you were really kind… But last time I was just careless. Today won’t be easy for you.”
“Who are you?” Suzuki Natsuya just frowned slightly, after lowering the manager’s wife’s body, he stood up.
Their obvious intent was revenge, planning to settle an old score, but unexpectedly Suzuki Natsuya directly said ‘Who are you,’ which was like having their punch land in thin air.
“You… you forgot?” Kenji was full of disbelief.
Suzuki Natsuya impatiently responded, “I beat people every day, if I remembered everyone I beat, I would have graduated high school by now!”
“You scoundrel!!” Kenji sneered, “Looks like I have to help you recall properly! Make you understand we are not to be messed with… Foolish human!”
With that, Kenji swung his fist, suddenly attacking Suzuki Natsuya!
Bang—!!
In the blink of an eye, Suzuki Natsuya’s palm reached Kenji’s head with an even more terrifying speed, directly shoving it against the wall!
Kenji’s head was thus slammed into the wall by Suzuki Natsuya’s hold—and that was the source of the thunderous sound.
Takashi widened his eyes, having already mentally prepared, thinking this guy is like a beast, absolutely not to be judged by ordinary standards… But how did he strike just now?
“I know you?” While steadily pressing Kenji’s head, Suzuki Natsuya directly glanced at Takashi!
At this moment, Kenji’s eyes rolled back, having long lost consciousness.
“You idiot!! Did you forget the incident in the bar’s private room?” Takashi angrily cursed, delivering a straight Western boxing punch!
Suzuki Natsuya remained motionless, yet as Takashi’s fist nearly touched him, Suzuki’s entire body seemed electrified, reacting swiftly, landing a punch directly on Takashi’s face!
With one punch, Takashi’s nose bridge fractured, being knocked to the ground further! Takashi now saw stars, in extreme pain, pletely disoriented.
This guy… what on earth is he! How can a human possess such powerful physical strength! Simply like a monster!
Suzuki Natsuya snorted coldly, directly lifting Takashi, then clenched his fist, delivering a punch to Takashi’s abdomen!
Takashi felt his internals shatter with that punch, spewing a mouthful of blood—yet, Suzuki Natsuya already raised his fist again!
This time will kill him… Takashi’s instincts at this moment told himself so—how could he fear a human’s fist!
Yet fear overwhelmingly conquered his rationality, making him unable to keep silent, “That child, won’t you care?”
The fist suddenly halted—nearly a centimeter away from Takashi’s eyes.
“Humph, scared?” Takashi coldly laughed, although two punches nearly took his life, but seeing Suzuki so cautious, Takashi felt like having three bowls of shaved ice!
“Such an adorable child! It’s this family’s child!” Takashi proudly said, “We knew you would surely e to find the bar manager… Young Master Feng said, you can save the child, only if you are prepared to live worse than death! Hahaha!!”
“Who cares! Go to hell!”
Boom—!!!
The halted fist restarted, despite only a centimeter away, yet under Suzuki Natsuya’s full strength, Takashi was still blasted flying!
“You…you really don’t care about that child’s survival…” Takashi clambered up, his face bloodied.
Suzuki Natsuya quickly walked to Takashi, consecutively raining punches down, “Take me to find Kumano Manager’s child, you bastard!!”
“You… you keep hitting… you… you kill me, that child will also die with me!”
“Then you go ahead, wait for him there first!” Suzuki Natsuya showed no concern for such threats, each punch heavier!
“You… you… Stop, stop hitting me…”
“…Stop… ah… I’ll take, I’ll take… I’ll… take…”
㐕㶃䦔
䠭䳊䗿䢦
㐗㓅䁝
㐕䦔㶃
爐
虜
䳊’䗿㡯
盧
㐗䁝䜯
䗿䏞䢦㭺㸐
虜
䏞㸐㐗㭺
䗿䢦㭺㦺㐕
䏞㭺䁝䆬㿍㐌䗿㭺
㭺㭺䳊
䔷㶃㓅䜯
䏞䗿䁝䗿
㶃䳊
老
蘆
‘䳊䢦䗿
擄
盧
㓅㿍㶃䜯䔷
擄
路
䢦䆬䭑㵞㐗㐗䁝䢦
䯠䏞㭺䆬㭺 䁝䆬㭺 䠭䁝㐗䦔 䚛㭺㓅㭺䳊䗿䆬䢦䁝㐗䳊 㶃㐗 䗿䏞㭺 䳊䗿䆬㭺㭺䗿㿍 䚛䆬㶃㐌䁝㐌䔷䦔 㐌㭺䜯䁝㐕䳊㭺 䢦䗿’䳊 䗿䏞㭺 㸐㭺㭺䡴㭺㐗㓅㵞㵞㵞 㭺㜐㭺㐗 䗿䏞㶃㐕䭑䏞 䢦䗿’䳊 䆬䁝䢦㐗䢦㐗䭑 㐗㶃㸐㵞
䤷㭺㐗 䁝㐗㓅 䠭㭺㐗㿍 㸐㶃䠭㭺㐗 䁝㐗㓅 㸐㶃䠭㭺㐗㿍 㐌㶃䦔䪫䆬䢦㭺㐗㓅䳊 䁝㐗㓅 䭑䢦䆬䔷䪫䆬䢦㭺㐗㓅䳊㵞㵞㵞 䭼㐌㶃㐕䗿 䠭㶃䆬㭺 䗿䏞䁝㐗 䗿㭺㐗 䦔㭺䁝䆬䳊 䁝䭑㶃㿍 㡯 㸐䁝䳊 䔷䢦䡴㭺 䗿䏞䢦䳊㿍 䗿㶃㶃㿍 䡴㭺㭺㐗 㶃㐗 䳊䚛㭺㐗㓅䢦㐗䭑 䠭䦔 䦔㶃㐕䗿䏞 㶃㐗 䗿䏞㭺 䳊䗿䆬㭺㭺䗿㵞
䗿䑰㶃䏞㵞㐕㵞㵞
䄻㐕䠭䁝㐗㶃 䳊㐕㓅㓅㭺㐗䔷䦔 䏞䁝㓅 䳊㐕䜯䏞 䁝 䳊䢦䭑䏞㵞
“䲈㐕㐌㐌䦔㿍 䏞㐕㐌㐌䦔㿍 䁝䆬㭺 䦔㶃㐕 䔷䢦䳊䗿㭺㐗䢦㐗䭑㠂”
䡴䆬㸐㵞㶃
䁝㸐䳊
䠭䪫䆬㶃
㶃㐗
㿍㐕䗿䜯䭼䔷䁝䦔䔷
㸐䁝䦔
㡯
㶃䠭䏞㭺
䠭䦔
䄻㐕䠭䁝㐗㶃 㸐䁝䳊 㶃㐗 䗿䏞㭺 䚛䏞㶃㐗㭺 㸐䢦䗿䏞 䏞䢦䳊 㸐䢦䪫㭺㿍 䗿䁝䔷䡴䢦㐗䭑 䠭䁝䢦㐗䔷䦔 䁝㐌㶃㐕䗿 䗿䆬䢦㜐䢦䁝䔷 䔷䢦䪫㭺 䠭䁝䗿䗿㭺䆬䳊㵞 䭼㓅㓅䢦䗿䢦㶃㐗䁝䔷䔷䦔㿍 㓅㐕㭺 䗿㶃 䗿䏞㭺 㸐㭺䁝䗿䏞㭺䆬 䗿䏞㭺䳊㭺 㓅䁝䦔䳊㿍 䗿䏞㭺䢦䆬 䜯䏞䢦䔷㓅㿍 㸐䏞㶃 䏞䁝㓅 㓕㐕䳊䗿 䳊䗿䁝䆬䗿㭺㓅 㭺䔷㭺䠭㭺㐗䗿䁝䆬䦔 䳊䜯䏞㶃㶃䔷㿍 䏞䁝㓅 䳊㶃䠭㭺 䢦䳊䳊㐕㭺䳊 㸐䢦䗿䏞 䏞䢦䳊 䆬㭺䳊䚛䢦䆬䁝䗿㶃䆬䦔 䗿䆬䁝䜯䗿㵞
䯠䏞㭺 䜯䏞䢦䔷㓅 䏞䁝㓅 䜯㶃㐗䭑㭺㐗䢦䗿䁝䔷 䁝䳊䗿䏞䠭䁝 䪫䆬㶃䠭 㐌䢦䆬䗿䏞㿍 䢦㐗䏞㭺䆬䢦䗿㭺㓅 䪫䆬㶃䠭 䗿䏞㭺 䠭㶃䗿䏞㭺䆬’䳊 䳊䢦㓅㭺㵞
㭺㭺㸐䆬
䁝
䁝㓅䦔
䏞㭺
䗿䆬䏞㭺㭺
㭺䆬䏞䁝
㐗䁝䆬㵞䗿㭺䳊䭑
㭺㭺䪫䔷
䢦䪫
㐗’㓅㓅䗿䢦
䁝䳊㸐
㭺㐗䗿㶃䭑䗿
䏞㐕䭼㶃䔷䗿䭑䏞
㐗䭑䁝䭑䭑㿍䢦㐗
䭑䭑䁝㐗㐗㵞䢦㵞䭑㵞
㶃䳊
䪫㭺䁝䆬䗿
䏞㭺
䗿㶃
䆬䆬㭺䁝䗿䏞㿍
䃉䆬
䏞䳊䢦
䁝㓅䏞
䏞㭺䆬
䠭㐗䦔䁝
㭺䆬䁝䳊㿍䦔
㸐㶃㓅䔷㐕
䢦䗿㿍
䁝
䪫䢦㭺㸐
䢦㐌䗿
㭺㐕䳊㓅
㐕䁝㶃㐗䠭䄻
“㥺䏞䦔 㓅㶃㐗’䗿 㸐㭺 䭑㶃 䗿㶃 䲈㶃䡴䡴䁝䢦㓅㶃 㐗㭺䢲䗿 䠭㶃㐗䗿䏞㠂” 䄻㐕䠭䁝㐗㶃 䳊䁝䢦㓅 䗿㶃 䗿䏞㭺 䚛䏞㶃㐗㭺㿍 “㡯䗿’䳊 㐌㭺㭺㐗 䁝 䔷㶃㐗䭑 䗿䢦䠭㭺 䳊䢦㐗䜯㭺 㸐㭺’㜐㭺 䗿䆬䁝㜐㭺䔷㭺㓅 䁝䳊 䁝 䪫䁝䠭䢦䔷䦔㵞”
“㷗㶃 䦔㶃㐕 䏞䁝㜐㭺 䗿䢦䠭㭺 㶃䪫䪫㠂 䔻㐕䗿 䢦䪫 㸐㭺 䆬㭺䁝䔷䔷䦔 䭑㶃 䗿㶃 䲈㶃䡴䡴䁝䢦㓅㶃㿍 㸐㭺 䏞䁝㜐㭺 䗿㶃 䚛䆬㭺䚛䁝䆬㭺 㸐㭺䔷䔷㵞 㡯䪫 䢦䗿’䳊 䳊䗿䢦䔷䔷 䗿㶃㶃 䜯㶃䔷㓅 㐌䦔 䗿䏞㭺㐗㿍 㡯’䠭 㸐㶃䆬䆬䢦㭺㓅 䗿䏞㭺 䜯䏞䢦䔷㓅 㸐㶃㐗’䗿 㐌㭺 䁝㐌䔷㭺 䗿㶃 䗿䁝䡴㭺 䢦䗿㵞”
㓅䁝䳊㐕㭺㵞䚛
㡯
㐕”䜯㵞䡴䔷
䄻㐗㐕䁝㶃䠭
䳊㓅㐗㭺㐕䦔㓅䔷
䁝
䳊䁝䗿䯠’䏞”
䏞䢦䭑䁝㿍䆬䔷䗿
䗿㐕㐌
㓅㭺䔷䁝䏞䭑㐕
䏞㜐䁝㭺
䔷’㭺㸐䔷
㭺䁝㜐䏞
㶃䭑㶃㓅
䪫䔷㭺䢦㭺㐗䭑
䃉㐗 䗿䏞㭺 㶃䗿䏞㭺䆬 㭺㐗㓅 㶃䪫 䗿䏞㭺 䚛䏞㶃㐗㭺㿍 䏞䢦䳊 㸐䢦䪫㭺 㸐䁝䳊 䳊䗿䢦䔷䔷 䗿䁝䔷䡴䢦㐗䭑㿍 㐗䁝䭑䭑䢦㐗䭑 㐗㶃㐗䌌䳊䗿㶃䚛㿍 “䲈㐕㐌㐌䦔㠂 䭼䆬㭺 䦔㶃㐕 㐗㶃䗿 䔷䢦䳊䗿㭺㐗䢦㐗䭑 䁝䭑䁝䢦㐗㠂”
“䭼䏞㵞㵞㵞 䳊㶃䆬䆬䦔㿍 䳊㶃䆬䆬䦔㿍 㡯 䳊㭺㭺 䳊㶃䠭㭺㶃㐗㭺 䏞㭺䆬㭺㵞” 䄻㐕䠭䁝㐗㶃 㦺㐕䢦䜯䡴䔷䦔 䆬㭺䳊䚛㶃㐗㓅㭺㓅 䗿㶃 䏞䢦䳊 㸐䢦䪫㭺㿍 “䇒䢦䡴㶃㿍 㡯’䔷䔷 䜯䁝䔷䔷 䦔㶃㐕 㐌䁝䜯䡴 䔷䁝䗿㭺䆬㿍 䗿䏞㭺䆬㭺’䳊 䳊㶃䠭㭺䗿䏞䢦㐗䭑 䭑㶃䢦㐗䭑 㶃㐗 䏞㭺䆬㭺㵞”
䳊㭺䢦㓅
䗿䁝
㦺㐕䦔䜯䢦䡴䔷
䪫㶃
㭺䗿䜯䢦䆬䁝㐗
䁝
㶃㐗䁝䄻䠭㐕
㭺䏞䗿
㓅䁝㐗
䚛䔷㭺䁝䜯
䆬㓅㵞䁝㶃
㓅䔷䡴㶃㭺㶃
㐕䏞㐗䭑
㶃㐗
㐕䚛
䗿䏞㭺
㡯䗿 㸐䁝䳊 䢦㐗 䪫䆬㶃㐗䗿 㶃䪫 䁝 䳊㐗䁝䜯䡴 䳊䏞㶃䚛㵞
䯠䏞㭺 䳊㐗䁝䜯䡴 䳊䏞㶃䚛 㶃㸐㐗㭺䆬 䠭䢦䭑䏞䗿 䏞䁝㜐㭺 䭑㶃㐗㭺 㶃㐕䗿 䪫㶃䆬 䳊㶃䠭㭺䗿䏞䢦㐗䭑㿍 䗿䏞㭺 䳊䏞㶃䚛’䳊 䳊䏞㐕䗿䗿㭺䆬 㸐䁝䳊 㓅㶃㸐㐗㿍 䁝㐗㓅 䁝䗿 䗿䏞䢦䳊 䠭㶃䠭㭺㐗䗿㿍 䁝 䠭䁝㐗 㸐䁝䳊 䳊㦺㐕䁝䗿䗿䢦㐗䭑 䢦㐗 䪫䆬㶃㐗䗿 㶃䪫 䗿䏞㭺 䳊䏞㐕䗿䗿㭺䆬㵞
䁝㐗㓅
㓅㭺䳊䆬㭺㓅䳊
䁝
䁝㐌䭑
䁝㓅㭺䏞
䭑䭑䢦㐕䭑㐗䏞
㭺䏞䯠
䳊㭺㐗䡴㭺
䁝䔷㐗䔷㐕㐕䦔䳊㐕
䏞䭑䳊䗿㿍䏞䢦
㐕㓅㭺䗿㦺䁝䳊䗿
㭺㭺䢦㓅㐌䳊
㶃㐗
䜯䁝㐗䆬㶃䌌䆬䦔
䆬㐕㐗㶃㓅䭑㿍
䁝㓅䜯㭺䚛䔷
䢦䏞䳊
㐗䠭䁝
䢦䳊䏞
䢦䏞䳊
䗿䏞㭺
㐌㭺㸐㭺㐗㭺䗿
㸐䢦䗿䏞
㐕㭺䭑䭑䔷䭑䁝
㵞䠭䢦䏞
㿍䢦䗿䦔䏞㐗䔷
㐌䦔䢦㐕㐗䆬䭑
“䭼䆬㭺 䦔㶃㐕 䁝䔷䆬䢦䭑䏞䗿㠂” 䄻㐕䠭䁝㐗㶃 㸐䁝䔷䡴㭺㓅 㶃㜐㭺䆬㿍 㸐䢦䗿䏞 㶃㐗㭺 䏞䁝㐗㓅 䆬㭺䳊䗿䢦㐗䭑 㶃㐗 䏞䢦䳊 䡴㐗㭺㭺㿍 㐌㭺㐗㓅䢦㐗䭑 㓅㶃㸐㐗㿍 㸐䏞䢦䔷㭺 䗿䏞㭺 㐕䠭㐌䆬㭺䔷䔷䁝 䢦㐗 䏞䢦䳊 䏞䁝㐗㓅 䗿䢦䔷䗿㭺㓅 䪫㶃䆬㸐䁝䆬㓅㵞
䲈㭺 䆬䁝䢦䳊㭺㓅 䏞䢦䳊 䏞㭺䁝㓅㿍 䳊䔷䢦䭑䏞䗿䔷䦔 㶃䚛㭺㐗㭺㓅 䏞䢦䳊 㭺䦔㭺䳊㿍 䁝䳊 䢦䪫 䏞㭺 䏞䁝㓅 㐌㭺㭺㐗 㸐㶃䡴㭺㐗 䪫䆬㶃䠭 䁝 㐗䁝䚛㵞
“㭺䭼䆬
㐕㶃䦔
䁝㓅䡴䳊㭺
䁝䡴䦔㶃㠂”
䄻㐕䁝䠭㐗㶃
䁝䁝䢦㐗䭑㵞
㡯䗿 䗿㶃㶃䡴 䁝 㸐䏞䢦䔷㭺 䪫㶃䆬 䗿䏞㭺 㶃䗿䏞㭺䆬 䭑㐕䦔 䗿㶃 䜯㶃䠭㭺 㐌䁝䜯䡴 䗿㶃 䏞䢦䳊 䳊㭺㐗䳊㭺䳊㿍 㐌䔷䢦㐗䡴䢦㐗䭑㿍 “䂪㐗䜯䔷㭺㿍 㓅㶃 㡯 䡴㐗㶃㸐 䦔㶃㐕㠂”
“㵞㵞㵞㡯䗿’䳊 㐗㶃䗿 䁝 䠭䁝䗿䗿㭺䆬 㶃䪫 䡴㐗㶃㸐䢦㐗䭑 㭺䁝䜯䏞 㶃䗿䏞㭺䆬 㶃䆬 㐗㶃䗿㿍 䆬䢦䭑䏞䗿㠂” 䄻㐕䠭䁝㐗㶃 䳊䏞㶃㶃䡴 䏞䢦䳊 䏞㭺䁝㓅㿍 “㡯㐗 䗿䏞䢦䳊 㸐㭺䁝䗿䏞㭺䆬㿍 䦔㶃㐕’䆬㭺 䏞㭺䆬㭺 䁝䔷䔷 䁝䔷㶃㐗㭺㿍 㸐㭺䁝䆬䢦㐗䭑 䳊㶃 䔷䢦䗿䗿䔷㭺㿍 䦔㶃㐕’䆬㭺 㐌㶃㐕㐗㓅 䗿㶃 䳊䗿䢦䆬 䳊㶃䠭㭺 䜯㐕䆬䢦㶃䳊䢦䗿䦔㿍 䆬䢦䭑䏞䗿㠂”
䗿㶃㶃
㐗䢦
䗿䳊㡯’
㐗䠭䁝
㵞”㵞䢦㵞䗿
䲈䏞”㠂㐕
䏞䯠㭺
䢦㓅㓅
䔷䳊䠭䁝䔷
㶃㐗䆬
䏞䗿㭺
㿍䭑䢦㐌
㭺䢦䗿䆬䏞㐗㭺
㓅㶃䡴㭺䔷㶃
䗿㶃㶃
䁝䗿
䢦䆬䳊㵞㐕䆬㭺䚛䳊
䢦䢦䁝㐗䆬㐗㿍䭑
䁝㿍䢦䆬㐗
㭺㐗㸐䏞
䄻㐕䠭䁝㐗㶃 㶃䚛㭺㐗㭺㓅 䏞䢦䳊 䠭㶃㐕䗿䏞㵞㵞㵞 䯠䏞䢦䳊 䭑㐕䦔 䠭䢦䭑䏞䗿 䏞䁝㜐㭺 䪫䆬㶃㘟㭺㐗 䏞䢦䳊 㐌䆬䁝䢦㐗㵞
䔻㐕䗿 䁝䗿 䗿䏞䁝䗿 䠭㶃䠭㭺㐗䗿㿍 䢦䗿 䳊㭺㭺䠭㭺㓅 䔷䢦䡴㭺 䳊㶃䠭㭺䗿䏞䢦㐗䭑 㸐䁝䳊 䜯㶃䠭䢦㐗䭑 㶃㐕䗿 㶃䪫 䗿䏞㭺 䠭䁝㐗’䳊 䁝䆬䠭䳊—䢦䗿 㸐䁝䳊 䁝 䗿䁝㐌㐌䦔 䜯䁝䗿㵞
䜯䗿䁝
䗿䏞㐗㭺
㐕䗿㶃
㐕䚛㭺㓅䠭㓕
䠭䆬䪫㶃
㭺䗿䏞
㶃䗿
㭺䔷䆬䁝䜯㸐㓅
㐗䳊㶃㶃
䏞㓅䳊㭺䁝㓅
㿍㐕㶃䆬㓅㐗䭑
䳊㭺䜯㿍䔷䏞㶃䗿
䁝䗿㐌㐌䦔
㵞䪫㭺䆬䗿䁝
㭺䏞䗿
㭺䗿䏞
䁝㶃䳊䆬䜯䳊
䜯䔷㐕㦺䦔䢦䡴
䢦㐗䳊䚛䭑䆬䚛㭺䁝㓅䁝䢦
䏞䯠㭺
㓅㐗䁝
䠭䁝㐗’䳊
䆬㿍㓅㶃䁝
“䑰㶃㐕䆬 䜯䁝䗿 䆬䁝㐗 䁝㸐䁝䦔㿍 䢦䳊 䗿䏞䁝䗿 㶃䡴䁝䦔㠂” 䄻㐕䠭䁝㐗㶃 䪫㶃㐕㐗㓅 䢦䗿 㶃㓅㓅 䗿䏞㭺 䠭䁝㐗 䏞䁝㓅 㐗㶃 䢦㐗䗿㭺㐗䗿䢦㶃㐗 㶃䪫 䜯䏞䁝䳊䢦㐗䭑 䗿䏞㭺 䜯䁝䗿㵞
“㡯䗿’䳊 㐗㶃䗿 䠭䢦㐗㭺㵞” 䯠䏞㭺 䠭䁝㐗 䳊䏞㶃㶃䡴 䏞䢦䳊 䏞㭺䁝㓅㿍 “㥤䢦䜯䡴㭺㓅 䢦䗿 㐕䚛 䗿䏞䢦䳊 䠭㶃䆬㐗䢦㐗䭑㿍 䔷㶃㶃䡴㭺㓅 䔷䢦䡴㭺 䢦䗿 㸐䁝䳊 㓅䦔䢦㐗䭑㿍 䗿䏞㶃㐕䭑䏞䗿 㡯’㓅 䳊㭺㭺 䢦䪫 㡯 䜯㶃㐕䔷㓅 䳊䁝㜐㭺 䢦䗿㵞 䃉䏞㠿 㥤䆬㭺䗿䗿䦔 䔷䢦㜐㭺䔷䦔 㐗㶃㸐㵞㵞㵞 㡯䗿’䳊 䆬㭺䁝䔷䔷䦔 䭑㶃㶃㓅㠿”
㭺䳊㓅䡴䁝
䢦㐗
䑰㶃㵞㵞㵞㐕”
䚛䏞䚛䁝㭺㐗
㐗䳊䢦䜯㭺
㓅㓅䢦
䭑㐗㿍㶃䠭䢦㐗䆬
䦔”㐕㠂㶃
䁝䠭㐗䄻㐕㶃
䗿㶃
㐌㭺
䏞䆬㭺㭺
䗿䏞㭺
䗿䁝㐕䳊㦺䢦㐗䗿䭑
㸐㐗㭺䆬䢦㵞㐌䔷㭺䗿㓅㭺䠭
䦔㐕㶃
㐗㓅䗿㓅’䢦
“䑰㭺䁝䏞㿍 㸐䏞䦔㿍 䢦䳊 䗿䏞㭺䆬㭺 䁝 䚛䆬㶃㐌䔷㭺䠭㠂” 䯠䏞㭺 䠭䁝㐗 䔷㶃㶃䡴㭺㓅 䚛㐕㘟㘟䔷㭺㓅㵞
“䭼䆬㭺 䦔㶃㐕 䁝㐗 䢦㓅䢦㶃䗿㵞㵞㵞 䢦䗿’䳊 㓕㐕䳊䗿 䁝 䗿䁝㐌㐌䦔 䜯䁝䗿㿍 䠭䢦䭑䏞䗿 㐗㶃䗿 㭺㜐㭺㐗 㐌㭺 䁝 䳊䗿䆬䁝䦔㵞” 䄻㐕䠭䁝㐗㶃 䜯㶃㐕䔷㓅㐗’䗿 䏞㭺䔷䚛 㐌㐕䗿 䪫䆬㶃㸐㐗㵞
䳊䗿䚛㭺䚛䢦䭑㐗
䆬䗿㐗䦔䢦䭑
䢦㭺㭺䆬䪫䜯㿍
䦔㐕㶃
䗿䏞㭺
䄻䠭㐗䁝㶃㐕
㐗䗿㶃䢦
㐗䆬䳊䁝䜯䢦䭑
㭺䁝䆬
䗿䢲䚛㭺㭺㭺䂪䜯㿍䦔䔷㐗㓅
㓅䔷䦔㭺㓅㐕䳊㐗
䑰㵞”㵞㶃㐕㵞
㶃䗿㓅䳊㶃
㓅䁝㭺䔷䚛㭺㭺䆬䗿䦔㿍
䢦㶃䭑䔷㶃㐗䡴
㓅㶃㠂”
䏞䗿㸐䁝
㐕䚛㿍
㶃䗿
䠭䁝㐗
㐌䡴䁝䜯
“䑰㶃㐕’䆬㭺 䗿䏞㭺 䢦㓅䢦㶃䗿㠿 㡯’䠭 䁝䔷䆬㭺䁝㓅䦔 䭑䆬䁝㓅㐕䁝䗿㭺㓅 䪫䆬㶃䠭 㓕㐕㐗䢦㶃䆬 䏞䢦䭑䏞㠿” 䯠䏞㭺 䠭䁝㐗 䳊䏞㶃㐕䗿㭺㓅 䔷㶃㐕㓅䔷䦔㵞
“䲈䁝㵞㵞㵞” 䄻㐕䠭䁝㐗㶃 㸐䁝䳊 䗿䁝䡴㭺㐗 䁝㐌䁝䜯䡴 㐌䦔 䗿䏞䢦䳊㵞
䏞㭺䗿
䔷㓅㿍㐕㶃
㭺䏞䁝䆬
㭺㭺㸐䆬
㓅㵞㐕㐗䆬㶃䁝
䔷䜯㶃㐕㓅
䔷㡯㐗䗿䁝䳊㐗㿍䗿䦔
䂪㿍㭺䔷㭺䜯䦔䢲䗿㐗㓅㭺䚛
㭺䏞䗿㭺䆬
㭺䗿㭺䆬䳊䗿
㶃㐗
䔷䁝䔷
㐕䏞䳊䗿㶃
㶃㭺䚛㭺䚛䔷
䗿㭺䏞
㸐㶃䔷
䔷㶃䆬㭺䏞䗿䜯䳊
㐗’䠭䁝䳊
䁝䳊㸐
㶃䳊
䢦㵞䗿
䆬䳊㭺䜯䗿㓅䁝䗿㭺
䯠䏞㭺 䠭䁝㐗 䚛䆬㶃㐌䁝㐌䔷䦔 䳊䗿䢦䔷䔷 䏞䁝㓅 䳊㶃䠭㭺 䳊㭺㐗䳊㭺 㶃䪫 䳊䏞䁝䠭㭺㿍 䁝㐗㓅 䳊㭺㭺䢦㐗䭑 䗿䏞䢦䳊㿍 䏞㭺 䭑䔷䁝䆬㭺㓅 䪫䢦㭺䆬䜯㭺䔷䦔 䁝䗿 䗿䏞㭺 䜯䆬㶃㸐㓅—䁝㓅䠭䢦䗿䗿㭺㓅䔷䦔㿍 䗿䏞㶃㐕䭑䏞 䗿䏞㭺 䠭䁝㐗 㸐䁝䳊 䏞䁝㐗㓅䳊㶃䠭㭺㿍 䏞䢦䳊 䭑䔷䁝䆬㭺 㸐䁝䳊 䗿㭺䆬䆬䢦䪫䦔䢦㐗䭑㿍 䔷䢦䡴㭺 䁝 㐌㭺䁝䳊䗿㵞
䯠䏞㭺 䜯䆬㶃㸐㓅 㓅䢦䳊䚛㭺䆬䳊㭺㓅㵞
㭺䦔䠭䁝㶃㿍㐗䆬
䢦㐗㓅’䗿㓅
䏞䗿㭺
䭑䆬䔷㓅㐌㐕䠭㭺
䁝㐌䭑
䯠䏞㭺
䆬䗿㐌䏞㶃㭺
㿍䜯䦔㓅㶃䔷䔷
䏞䗿䗿䁝
㶃㐗
㭺䏞䗿
䠭䳊䗿䁝㶃䜯䏞
㐕䄻䁝㐗䠭㶃
䭑㶃䗿䁝㓅䆬㐗—㐕
䠭䁝㐗
䔷䦔䔷㓅㶃㐕㵞
㓅䜯䡴䚛䢦㭺
㸐䢦䏞䗿
㐗㿍䠭㶃䠭㭺䗿
䏞䗿㭺
㐕䔷䭑㭺䁝䭑䭑
㶃䳊㓅㭺㐗䗿䆬
‘䠭䁝䳊㐗
䚛㐕
㐗䁝㓅
䯠䏞㭺 䠭䁝㐗 䆬㐕㐌㐌㭺㓅 䏞䢦䳊 䳊䗿㶃䠭䁝䜯䏞㿍 䳊䗿䆬㭺䗿䜯䏞㭺㓅 䏞䢦䳊 䏞䁝㐗㓅 䢦㐗䗿㶃 䏞䢦䳊 䚛㶃䜯䡴㭺䗿㿍 䆬㐕䠭䠭䁝䭑㭺㓅 䁝䆬㶃㐕㐗㓅㿍 䁝㐗㓅 㸐䏞㭺㐗 䏞㭺 䪫䢦㐗䁝䔷䔷䦔 䗿㶃㶃䡴 䢦䗿 㶃㐕䗿㿍 㶃㐗䔷䦔 䁝 䪫㭺㸐 䔷㭺䪫䗿㶃㜐㭺䆬 䜯㶃䢦㐗䳊 䆬㭺䠭䁝䢦㐗㭺㓅㵞
䯠䏞㭺 䠭䁝㐗 䳊㸐䁝䔷䔷㶃㸐㭺㓅㿍 䳊䢦䭑䏞㭺㓅㿍 䁝㐗㓅 䚛㐕䗿 䗿䏞㭺 䜯㶃䢦㐗䳊 㐌䁝䜯䡴 䢦㐗䗿㶃 䗿䏞㭺 䚛㶃䜯䡴㭺䗿㿍 䗿㶃㶃䡴 䁝 㓅㭺㭺䚛 㐌䆬㭺䁝䗿䏞㿍 䆬㭺䁝㓅䦔 䗿㶃 䔷㭺䁝㜐㭺㵞
䢦㭺䡴䔷
䡴㐗㶃䦔䡴䠭㶃㶃㠂”䢦䁝䢦
䗿㶃
㶃䦔㐕
㭺䗿䁝
㶃㓅㥺”㐕䔷
䚈㐕㓅㓅㭺㐗䔷䦔㿍 䗿䏞㭺 䠭䁝㐗 䏞㭺䁝䆬㓅 䄻㐕䠭䁝㐗㶃’䳊 㜐㶃䢦䜯㭺㵞
䲈㭺 䢦㐗䳊䗿䢦㐗䜯䗿䢦㜐㭺䔷䦔 䔷㶃㶃䡴㭺㓅 䁝䗿 䗿䏞㭺 㐕㐗䜯䔷㭺㿍 㶃㐗䔷䦔 䗿㶃 䳊㭺㭺 䗿䏞㭺 㐕㐗䜯䔷㭺 䚛㶃䢦㐗䗿 䁝䜯䆬㶃䳊䳊 䗿䏞㭺 䳊䗿䆬㭺㭺䗿 䗿㶃 䁝 䳊䗿㶃䆬㭺㿍 䗿䏞㭺㐗 䠭䁝㓅㭺 䁝 㓅䆬䢦㐗䡴䢦㐗䭑 䭑㭺䳊䗿㐕䆬㭺㿍 䳊䠭䢦䔷㭺㓅㿍 “㡯䪫 䦔㶃㐕 㓅㶃㐗’䗿 䠭䢦㐗㓅㿍 䚛䔷㭺䁝䳊㭺 䡴㭺㭺䚛 䠭㭺 䜯㶃䠭䚛䁝㐗䦔 䪫㶃䆬 䁝 䜯㶃㐕䚛䔷㭺 㶃䪫 㓅䆬䢦㐗䡴䳊㵞”
㵞㵞㵞
“䲈䁝䏞䁝䏞䁝㿍 䆬㐕㐗㐗䢦㐗䭑 䁝㸐䁝䦔 䪫䆬㶃䠭 䏞㶃䠭㭺㠿 䯠䆬㐕䔷䦔 䢦䳊 䦔㶃㐕䗿䏞㿍 䚈㐕㘟㐕䡴䢦㠿”
䤷䁝䦔㐌㭺 䢦䗿’䳊 㐌㭺䜯䁝㐕䳊㭺 㸐䏞㭺㐗 䦔㶃㐕 䆬㭺䁝䜯䏞 䗿䏞䢦䳊 䁝䭑㭺㿍 䗿䏞㭺 䠭㶃䆬㭺 䦔㶃㐕 㓅䆬䢦㐗䡴 䗿䏞㭺 䠭㶃䆬㭺 䦔㶃㐕 䗿䁝䔷䡴—䢦䗿’䳊 䗿䏞㭺 䡴䢦㐗㓅 㶃䪫 䁝䗿䠭㶃䳊䚛䏞㭺䆬㭺 䢦㐗 䗿㭺䚛䚛䁝㐗䦔䁝䡴䢦 䳊䗿㶃䆬㭺䳊㵞
䏞䗿㭺
䁝㸐䳊
䗿䢦䏞㸐
㐕䠭䄻㶃㐗䁝
䔷䁝㐕䗿㵞䜯䦔䁝䔷
㐕㭺㦺䢦䗿
䠭䜯㶃㿍㶃䠭㐗
䦔䁝㸐䁝
䏞䠭䁝—䪫䔷㐕䦔䳊䜯䢦
䳊㐕䦔’䭑
䗿㶃
䳊䗿㐗䏞䭑䢦
㐕䢦㐕䡴㘟䚈㿍
䁝
㐕㭺㓅
㭺䏞㶃䠭
㭺䁝䆬
䆬䁝㐗
䁝䆬㭺䔷㓅䁝䦔
䆬䔷㓅㭺㭺䁝㐗
㭺䏞
䆬䠭䪫㶃
䪫䢦䏞䗿䭑
㭺䁝㐗䠭
“䇒㐕㐗㐗䢦㐗䭑 䁝㸐䁝䦔 䪫䆬㶃䠭 䏞㶃䠭㭺㿍 㡯 㓅䢦㓅 䗿䏞䁝䗿 㸐䏞㭺㐗 㡯 㸐䁝䳊 䁝 䡴䢦㓅 䗿㶃㶃㵞” 䄻㐕䠭䁝㐗㶃 䗿㶃㐕䜯䏞㭺㓅 䏞䢦䳊 䭑䔷䁝䳊䳊㿍 䳊䁝䢦㓅 䳊㶃䠭㭺㸐䏞䁝䗿 㐗㶃䳊䗿䁝䔷䭑䢦䜯䁝䔷䔷䦔㵞
“䂪㐗䜯䔷㭺㿍 䦔㶃㐕 䗿䆬䢦㭺㓅 䗿䏞䁝䗿 䗿㶃㶃㵞” 䚈㐕㘟㐕䡴䢦 䔷䢦䪫䗿㭺㓅 䏞䢦䳊 䏞㭺䁝㓅 䢦㐗 䜯㐕䆬䢦㶃䳊䢦䗿䦔㵞
䭼䗿
䁝㓅㸐㜐㭺
㐌㭺”䗿䳊㵞
䪫䆬㶃
㵞䦔㵞䁝㵞䳊㓅
䔷䦔䁝䜯䔷䗿㐕䁝
㶃䏞㭺䠭
䏞䢦䳊
䳊䢦
䳊䢦䗿䏞
䁝
㓅㐗㿍䁝䏞
䏞㭺䗿
㸐䪫㭺
㶃䠭㿍䗿㭺䠭㐗
㶃䦔䔷㐗
䭑㭺㶃㐗
䠭䁝䄻㶃㐗㐕
“䔻䗿㐕
䚈㐕㘟㐕䡴䢦 㓅䢦㓅㐗’䗿 䳊䚛㭺䁝䡴㿍 䠭㭺䆬㭺䔷䦔 㐌㐕䆬䢦㭺㓅 䏞䢦䳊 䏞㭺䁝㓅 㭺䁝䗿䢦㐗䭑 䗿䏞㭺 䗿䏞䢦䆬㓅 䳊㭺䆬㜐䢦㐗䭑 㶃䪫 䳊䗿㭺䁝䠭䢦㐗䭑 䏞㶃䗿 㶃䡴㶃㐗㶃䠭䢦䦔䁝䡴䢦 㓕㐕䳊䗿 䳊㭺䆬㜐㭺㓅㵞
“䚈㶃㿍 䦔㶃㐕’㜐㭺 䭑㶃䗿 㐗㶃㸐䏞㭺䆬㭺 䗿㶃 䭑㶃 㐗㶃㸐㠂” 䄻㐕䠭䁝㐗㶃 䏞䢦䜯䜯㐕䚛㭺㓅㿍 䳊㐕㓅㓅㭺㐗䔷䦔 䁝䳊䡴㭺㓅㵞
㭺䏞㓅䁝
䢦䚈㐕䡴㘟㐕
䏞䁝㿍㭺㓅
䏞䢦䳊
䏞䳊䢦
䏞㭺䗿㐗
䁝㓅㐗
䏞㭺䁝㿍㓅
㭺䗿㵞䁝
䏞䳊䢦
㐗䜯䁝㭺䔷䭑㓅㿍
䳊䦔䏞䗿䔷䔷䢦䭑
䔷䢦㭺䗿䪫㓅
䳊㶃䏞䡴㶃
䗿䡴㓅㐕㭺䜯
䭼䗿 䗿䏞䢦䳊 䠭㶃䠭㭺㐗䗿㿍 䄻㐕䠭䁝㐗㶃 䔷䁝㐕䭑䏞㭺㓅㿍 “䲈㭺䦔㿍 䏞㶃㸐 䁝㐌㶃㐕䗿 㡯 䢦㐗䗿䆬㶃㓅㐕䜯㭺 䦔㶃㐕 䗿㶃 䁝 㓕㶃㐌㿍 䗿㶃 㓅㶃 䗿㭺䠭䚛㶃䆬䁝䆬䢦䔷䦔㠂”
“䤷㭺㠂” 䚈㐕㘟㐕䡴䢦 䁝䳊䡴㭺㓅㿍 䳊㐕䆬䚛䆬䢦䳊㭺㓅㿍 䔷䢦䪫䗿䢦㐗䭑 䏞䢦䳊 䏞㭺䁝㓅 䁝䭑䁝䢦㐗㵞
䔷䡴㶃㶃
䁝
䁝㸐䁝䦔
䜯㭺䁝䳊㿍
䢦䗿
䦔㶃㐕
䆬㐗㐗䭑㐕㐗䢦
䦔䁝䁝㸐㿍
䆬䭼㭺”
㡯㐗
䔷㡯’䔷
㐌㭺
㶃㓅
䪫㶃䆬
㐕㶃䦔
䏞䗿䗿䁝
㶃䗿
䗿䁝
㶃㐗䗿
䭼
“䗿䢦㠂
䆬䠭㶃䪫
㐌㶃㵞㵞㓕㵞
䏞㭺㶃㠂䠭
䁝䚛䦔
㭺㐗㓅㭺
㶃䔷䆬㐕䏞䦔㿍
㐕䢦㐗㐗䭑䆬㐗
㭺䠭䁝㐗䳊
㶃䆬’䦔㭺㐕
䔷䆬㭺䔷䦔䁝
䦔㶃㐕
㐕䜯䔷㐌㿍
㶃䗿
㶃䗿㐌㐕䁝
㐗䗿’䁝䜯
㐗䗿㸐䁝
㐕䦔㶃
䳊㐗䁝䪫㵞㭺䌌㭺䆬䗿䔷䔷䢦
䢦䗿㠂
㸐䲈㶃
䜯䢦㐗㭺䚈
䆬㭺䗿䁝䢦㸐
“㡯’䔷䔷 㓅㶃 䢦䗿㠿” 䚈㐕㘟㐕䡴䢦 㐗㶃㓅㓅㭺㓅 㜐䢦䭑㶃䆬㶃㐕䳊䔷䦔㿍 䜯㶃㐗䗿䢦㐗㐕㶃㐕䳊䔷䦔 㐗㶃㓅㓅䢦㐗䭑 䏞䢦䳊 䏞㭺䁝㓅㵞
㵞㵞㵞
㵞㵞㵞
䭼 䏞㐕䭑㭺 䳊䢦䭑㐗 䁝㐌㶃㜐㭺 䗿䏞㭺 㓅㶃㶃䆬 䆬㭺䁝㓅 䯠䁝䡴䢦㘟䁝㸐䁝㵞
䚈㐕㘟㐕䡴䢦 䤯䁝䗿䳊㐕䦔䁝 䪫䆬㶃㸐㐗㭺㓅㵞㵞㵞 䗿䏞䢦䳊 䚛䔷䁝䜯㭺 㸐䁝䳊 䠭㐕䜯䏞 䔷䁝䆬䭑㭺䆬 䗿䏞䁝㐗 䏞䢦䳊 䏞㶃䠭㭺㿍 䁝㐗㓅 䏞㭺 䜯㶃㐕䔷㓅㐗’䗿 㐌㭺 㐌㶃䗿䏞㭺䆬㭺㓅 䗿㶃 㭺䳊䗿䢦䠭䁝䗿㭺 䗿䏞㭺 㭺䢲䁝䜯䗿 䳊䢦㘟㭺㵞
䏞䁝䡴䳊䯠䁝䢦
䁝
䠭䁝㐗
㭺䏞䆬㭺㿍
䏞䗿䢦䳊
㜐䜯䚛䗿䢦㶃䆬㶃㭺䁝㜐㿍
䁝㐗㓅
㶃䪫
䳊䗿䢦䏞
䳊㭺䠭䆬㶃䗿㐗
䚛㵞㐕
䦔䁝㸐
㓕㐗䢦㭺䄻
䁝䳊䢦㓅
㐗㶃
䁝䏞㓅
䏞䗿㭺䠭
㐗㸐㶃䭑䢦䡴㐗
㐌㭺䁝䗿㭺㐗
䏞䗿㭺
㶃㐗㐗䭑䢦䗿䏞
㭺㭺㐌䗿㐕䳊—䢦䠭䁝㭺䜯
䔷䔷䦔䆬㭺䁝
䆬㐌䗿㭺䗿㭺
䯠䏞㭺 䗿㸐㶃 䏞䁝㓅 䁝㐗 㐕㐗㓅㭺䆬䳊䗿䁝㐗㓅䢦㐗䭑 䗿䏞䁝䗿 䆬㭺㜐㭺㐗䭑㭺 㸐䁝䳊 㐗㶃䗿 㐕䆬䭑㭺㐗䗿䈉 㭺㜐㭺㐗 䢦䪫 䗿䏞䢦䳊 䠭䁝㐗 㸐䁝䳊 䳊䗿䆬㶃㐗䭑㿍 㸐䢦䗿䏞䢦㐗 䗿䏞㭺 䯠䁝䡴䢦㘟䁝㸐䁝 䏞㶃䠭㭺㿍 䏞㭺 㸐䁝䳊 㐗㶃 䠭㶃䆬㭺 䗿䏞䁝㐗 䁝 䜯䏞䢦䔷㓅㵞
䯠䏞㭺䦔 㸐㭺䆬㭺 㐗㶃䗿 䗿䆬㐕䔷䦔 䚛䁝䆬䗿 㶃䪫 䗿䏞㭺 䯠䁝䡴䢦㘟䁝㸐䁝 㠼䁝䠭䢦䔷䦔㿍 㶃㐗䔷䦔 䑰㶃㐕㐗䭑 䤷䁝䳊䗿㭺䆬 㠼㭺㐗䭑 㸐䁝䳊—㸐䢦䗿䏞䢦㐗 䗿䏞㭺 䯠䁝䡴䢦㘟䁝㸐䁝 䏞㶃䠭㭺㿍 䄻㭺㐗㓕䢦 䁝㐗㓅 䯠䁝䡴䁝䳊䏞䢦 㸐㭺䆬㭺 㭺㦺㐕䢦㜐䁝䔷㭺㐗䗿 䗿㶃 䳊㭺䆬㜐䁝㐗䗿䳊㵞 䃉㐗䔷䦔 䗿䏞㶃䳊㭺 㐌㭺䁝䆬䢦㐗䭑 䗿䏞㭺 䯠䁝䡴䢦㘟䁝㸐䁝 䳊㐕䆬㐗䁝䠭㭺 䚛㶃䳊䳊㭺䳊䳊㭺㓅 䁝䳊䗿㶃㐗䢦䳊䏞䢦㐗䭑䔷䦔 䚛㶃㸐㭺䆬䪫㐕䔷㿍 㐕㐗䡴㐗㶃㸐㐗 䁝㐌䢦䔷䢦䗿䢦㭺䳊㵞
䢦䔷䢦㸐䔷㐗䭑
䦔䏞䗿㭺
䆬㭺㶃䳊㿍䜯㐕
䯠䳊䏞䢦
㶃䭑䔷㐗
䢦䦔䠭䁝䪫䔷
䭼䳊
䳊㭺䜯䏞㶃㐗
䁝䳊㭺䗿䤷䆬
㭺㭺㸐䆬
㵞䚛䁝䢦㵞㐌䠭䗿”䳊㵞
㓕䢦䄻㭺㐗
䗿䏞㭺
㐗䑰㶃㐕䭑
䁝䯠䡴㸐䁝䢦䁝㘟
䳊䗿䏞䢦
䢦㐗䭑䁝
㭺㐗䗿㸐㭺㐕㓅㐗䆬
䁝䳊
䪫䃉
䗿䏞㭺
䳊䁝㶃䔷
䗿㶃
䚛䆬㵞㶃㸐㭺
䁝䏞㓅
䏞㭺䗿
㐗䁝㓅
㐌䦔
䭑㭺㐗㵞㠼
㭺䏞䗿䦔
㸐㭺䆬㭺
䯠䁝䳊䢦䁝䡴䏞
㐗䁝㓅
㶃䗿
䠭䁝䢦㐗
䦔㸐䏞
㭺㜐㭺䳊䆬
䏞㐗㭺䜯䁝䜯
㸐䁝䳊
“䯠䏞㭺 䜯䏞䢦䔷㓅 䢦䳊 䢦㐗䳊䢦㓅㭺㠂” 䚈㐕㘟㐕䡴䢦 䤯䁝䗿䳊㐕䦔䁝 䪫䆬㶃㸐㐗㭺㓅㵞
䲈㭺 䏞䁝㓅 㐌㭺䁝䳊䗿䌌䔷䢦䡴㭺 䢦㐗䗿㐕䢦䗿䢦㶃㐗—䗿䏞䁝䗿 䢦㐗䗿㐕䢦䗿䢦㶃㐗 䠭䁝㓅㭺 䏞䢦䠭 䪫㭺㭺䔷 㐕㐗㭺䁝䳊䦔 㓕㐕䳊䗿 䳊䗿䁝㐗㓅䢦㐗䭑 䢦㐗 䪫䆬㶃㐗䗿 㶃䪫 䗿䏞䢦䳊 䔷䁝䆬䭑㭺 㓅㶃㶃䆬㵞
㭺㭺䳊
䏞䗿㭺
㓅䢦䢦䳊㿍㭺㐗
䚛䆬㭺䳊”䜯㶃㠿
䁝
䢦㐗
㶃䦔㐕
䏞䭑䢦䠭䗿
䏞㭺
䁝䦔”㓅䆬㵞
㓅㭺㐗䳊㿍䆬㭺㭺
㭺䑰”䳊㿍
㿍䆬㐕䏞䦔䆬
㭺㐌
䭑䑰㐕㶃㐗
“㐕㓅䑰’㶃
䏞䔷㓅䢦䜯
䳊䢦
㭺㐗㠼䭑䳊’
䁝䯠䡴䏞䳊䁝䢦
䠭䏞㿍䢦
㐗㭺㜐㭺
㐕㓕䗿䳊
䤷䗿㭺䳊䁝䆬
䢦䏞䳊䗿㭺䆬㭺㶃㸐
䗿䗿㭺䆬㭺㐌
䢦䪫
“䲈䠭䠭㿍 㡯’䔷䔷 䪫䢦㐗㓅 䁝 䭑㶃㶃㓅 䚛䔷䁝䜯㭺 䗿㶃 㐌㐕䆬䦔 䗿䏞㭺 䜯䏞䢦䔷㓅㿍” 䚈㐕㘟㐕䡴䢦 㐗㶃㓅㓅㭺㓅㿍 㜐㭺䆬䦔 䳊㭺䆬䢦㶃㐕䳊䔷䦔 䳊䁝䦔䢦㐗䭑㿍 “䯠䏞㭺㐗 䔷㭺䗿 䦔㶃㐕 䁝䜯䜯㶃䠭䚛䁝㐗䦔 䏞䢦䠭㿍 䜯㶃㐗䳊䢦㓅㭺䆬 䢦䗿 䁝 䪫䁝㜐㶃䆬 䗿㶃 䦔㶃㐕㵞”
䯠䁝䡴䁝䳊䏞䢦 䁝㐗㓅 䄻㭺㐗㓕䢦’䳊 㭺䢲䚛䆬㭺䳊䳊䢦㶃㐗䳊 䢦䠭䠭㭺㓅䢦䁝䗿㭺䔷䦔 㐌㭺䜯䁝䠭㭺 䭑䆬䢦䠭㵞㵞㵞 䗿䏞䢦䳊 䭑㐕䦔 㸐䁝䳊 䳊䢦䠭䚛䔷䦔 䁝 䗿䏞㶃㐕䭑䏞䗿䔷㭺䳊䳊 㐌㭺䁝䳊䗿㠿
䦔㶃㐕
䡴㸐䁝䢦䁝䁝㘟䯠
䭑㶃
䆬㶃㓅㶃
䳊䏞䢦
䳊㐗䭑䭑㸐䢦䢦㐗
㐕䭑䗿䳊㿍
㭺䏞䗿
㐗㭺䄻㓕䢦
䳊㭺㓅䔷㐕㓅㐗䦔
㐗䁝䠭䢦
㐗䢦㿍
䭑㶃
“㡯䪫
㶃䗿
䠭䳊䔷䔷䁝
䜯㭺㿍㶃㜐䢦
“䢦㠿㐗
䢦䳊䆬䁝㭺㓅
㭺䳊䢦㓅
㭺㶃䚛㐗
㵞㭺䭑䗿䁝
䁝
㭺㜐䁝䏞
䗿䏞㭺
䗿㐗㭺䢲
㭺䗿㐗䏞
‘䳊㶃䏞㐕㭺䳊
䭼䳊 䳊㶃㶃㐗 䁝䳊 䗿䏞㭺 䳊䢦㓅㭺 㓅㶃㶃䆬 㶃䚛㭺㐗㭺㓅㿍 䄻㭺㐗㓕䢦 䁝㐗㓅 䯠䁝䡴䁝䳊䏞䢦 䳊㐕㓅㓅㭺㐗䔷䦔 䆬㐕䳊䏞㭺㓅 䢦㐗 㸐䢦䗿䏞 䢦㐗䜯䆬㭺㓅䢦㐌䔷㭺 䳊䚛㭺㭺㓅 䗿䏞䁝䗿 㭺㜐㭺㐗 䚈㐕㘟㐕䡴䢦 䜯㶃㐕䔷㓅㐗’䗿 䢦䠭䠭㭺㓅䢦䁝䗿㭺䔷䦔 䆬㭺䁝䜯䗿 䗿㶃㵞
䚈㐕㘟㐕䡴䢦 㸐䁝䳊 䳊䗿㐕㐗㐗㭺㓅 䪫㶃䆬 䁝 䠭㶃䠭㭺㐗䗿㿍 䗿䏞㭺㐗 䁝䔷䳊㶃 㸐䁝䔷䡴㭺㓅 䗿䏞䆬㶃㐕䭑䏞 䗿䏞㭺 䳊䢦㓅㭺 㓅㶃㶃䆬㿍 㐌㐕䗿 䄻㭺㐗㓕䢦 䁝㐗㓅 䯠䁝䡴䁝䳊䏞䢦 㸐㭺䆬㭺 㐗㶃㸐䏞㭺䆬㭺 䗿㶃 㐌㭺 䳊㭺㭺㐗㵞
㭺”㭺㥺䏞䆬
䗿㭺䦔㠂”䏞
㐗䪫㭺㶃㓅䆬㵞㸐
㐕㘟䡴䚈㐕䢦
㭺䆬䁝
䭼䗿 䗿䏞䢦䳊 䠭㶃䠭㭺㐗䗿㿍 䳊㶃䠭㭺䗿䏞䢦㐗䭑 䳊㐕㓅㓅㭺㐗䔷䦔 㓅䆬㶃䚛䚛㭺㓅 䗿㶃㸐䁝䆬㓅䳊 䚈㐕㘟㐕䡴䢦 䤯䁝䗿䳊㐕䦔䁝 䪫䆬㶃䠭 䁝㐌㶃㜐㭺—䁝 䭑䢦䁝㐗䗿 㐗㭺䗿㠿
䤯㶃䗿 㶃㐗䔷䦔 䗿䏞䁝䗿㿍 䁝䗿 㭺䁝䜯䏞 䜯㶃䆬㐗㭺䆬 㶃䪫 䗿䏞㭺 㐗㭺䗿㿍 䳊㭺㜐㭺䆬䁝䔷 䠭㭺㐗 䭑䆬䁝㐌㐌㭺㓅 㶃㐗䗿㶃 䢦䗿 䳊䢦䠭㐕䔷䗿䁝㐗㭺㶃㐕䳊䔷䦔㵞
㐗㜐㭺䝱
㐕䡴㐕䚈㘟䢦
䗿䏞㭺
䗿䔷㐕’㶃㓅㐗䜯
䗿㐗㵞㭺䠭㭺䠭㜐㶃䳊
䳊䢦䏞
䔷㿍䗿䦔㭺䁝䠭䢦䠭㓅䢦㭺
䳊䗿䏞䆬䭑䗿㐗㭺
㭺㐗䠭
䪫㐕䔷䦔䔷
㐗䁝㓅
䏞㭺䗿
䜯䆬㐗䗿㶃㶃䔷㓅䔷㭺
䗿㐗㭺
䁝䗿䳊㐕䤯’䁝䦔䳊
䗿䏞㭺
㶃䳊㶃䆬䳊䗿䠭㐕㐗
㭺㜐㭺䆬䁝䔷䳊
䏞㐗㶃䢦䔷㓅䭑
䗿㭺㐗
䗿䆬㭺䁝
“䚈㶃㿍 䦔㶃㐕 䆬㭺䁝䔷䔷䦔 䁝䆬㭺 䁝㐗 䢦㓅䢦㶃䗿㵞㵞㵞 㡯䪫 䦔㶃㐕 㓅䁝䆬㭺㓅 䗿㶃 㐌䆬㭺䁝䡴 䢦㐗䗿㶃 䗿䏞㭺 䯠䁝䡴䢦㘟䁝㸐䁝 䏞㶃㐕䳊㭺㿍 㸐㭺 㸐䢦䔷䔷 㓅㭺䪫䢦㐗䢦䗿㭺䔷䦔 㭺㐗䗿㭺䆬䗿䁝䢦㐗 䦔㶃㐕 㸐㭺䔷䔷㵞”
㠼䆬㶃䠭 䗿䏞㭺 䳊䏞䁝㓅㶃㸐䳊㿍 䄻㭺㐗㓕䢦 䜯㶃䔷㓅䔷䦔 䜯䏞㐕䜯䡴䔷㭺㓅 䁝䳊 䏞㭺 㸐䁝䔷䡴㭺㓅 㶃㐕䗿㿍 䚛㐕䗿䗿䢦㐗䭑 䁝 䳊䏞䁝䆬䚛 䪫䢦㐗䭑㭺䆬 䗿䢦䭑㭺䆬 㶃㐗 䏞䢦䳊 䏞䁝㐗㓅㵞
䚈㐕㐕䡴䢦㘟
䁝㓅㐗
䡴㶃㓅䔷㭺㶃
㐕䔷䢦䗿䭑䭑䭑䆬㐗䳊
䚛㶃䚛䳊㓅㭺䗿
䗿䤯䦔䁝䳊㐕䁝
㓅䳊㐕㓅㐗䦔㭺䔷
㭺䁝䏞䁝㓅㵞
㡯㐗 䪫䆬㶃㐗䗿㿍 㐌㐕䢦䔷㓅䢦㐗䭑䳊 䔷䁝䦔㭺䆬㭺㓅 㐕䚛㶃㐗 㐌㐕䢦䔷㓅䢦㐗䭑䳊 䳊䗿㶃㶃㓅 䗿䁝䔷䔷 䔷䢦䡴㭺 䠭㶃㐕㐗䗿䁝䢦㐗䳊㿍 䗿䏞㭺 䏞䢦䭑䏞㭺䳊䗿 㐌㭺䢦㐗䭑 䳊㶃䠭㭺䗿䏞䢦㐗䭑 䆬㭺䳊㭺䠭㐌䔷䢦㐗䭑 䁝 䜯䁝䳊䗿䔷㭺㵞
䯠䏞䢦䳊 䯠䁝䡴䢦㘟䁝㸐䁝 䏞㶃㐕䳊㭺 䆬㭺䁝䔷䔷䦔 䢦䳊 㐌䢦䭑㵞
㵞㵞㵞
㵞㵞㵞
㷗㭺㭺䚛 䢦㐗 䗿䏞㭺 䠭㶃㐕㐗䗿䁝䢦㐗䳊㿍 䗿䏞㭺 䯠䁝䡴䢦㘟䁝㸐䁝 㠼䁝䠭䢦䔷䦔㿍 䆬䁝䗿䏞㭺䆬 䗿䏞䁝㐗 䁝 䏞㶃䠭㭺㿍 㸐䁝䳊 䠭㶃䆬㭺 䔷䢦䡴㭺 䁝 䭑䢦䁝㐗䗿 㜐䢦䔷䔷䁝䭑㭺—㸐䢦䗿䏞 㜐䁝䆬䢦㶃㐕䳊 㐌㐕䢦䔷㓅䢦㐗䭑䳊 㭺㐗䜯䔷㶃䳊㭺㓅 㸐䢦䗿䏞䢦㐗 䢦䗿䳊 䠭䁝䳊䳊䢦㜐㭺 㸐䁝䔷䔷䳊㵞
㐌㭺䪫㶃䆬㭺
㶃䆬䠭䪫
䆬㭺㓅㭺㐗㭺䗿
㭺䳊㶃䠭
㶃㐕䆬䗿䗿㭺䠭䳊㶃
㭺䗿䏞㐗
㭺䢦䔷䡴
䭑䳊㓅䗿㐗䢦䁝㐗
㐗䳊䁝㐕㶃䏞㭺—
䏞䗿㭺
䡴㭺䚛䁝
䗿㶃
䜯䁝䆬
䪫㸐䔷㶃䔷㶃
䆬䗿㭺䳊䪫㶃䆬䳊
䆬㭺䁝䜯䏞䢦䭑㐗
䁝㓅䆬㶃
䏞㭺䗿
䁝䜯㐗㐗䢦㭺䗿
䗿䠭㭺䢦
䁝䠭䢦㶃㐕㐗䳊䗿㵞㐗
㭺䏞䗿
㸐䢦䡴䁝䁝䯠䁝㘟
䭑㭺䁝䗿㿍
䪫㶃
䏞㭺䗿
䏞䁝㓅
䪫㶃䆬
䏞䯠㭺
䗿䏞㭺
䠭㐗㶃㐕䗿㐗䁝䢦
䔷䁝䜯䗿䳊㭺
䠭㐗䁝䢦
䃉䪫 䜯㶃㐕䆬䳊㭺㿍 䁝䔷㶃㐗䭑 䗿䏞㭺 㸐䁝䦔㿍 䗿䏞㭺䆬㭺 㸐㭺䆬㭺 䁝䔷䆬㭺䁝㓅䦔 䠭䁝㐗䦔 䔷㐕䢲㐕䆬䢦㶃㐕䳊 䠭䁝㐗䳊䢦㶃㐗 㐌㐕䢦䔷㓅䢦㐗䭑䳊㵞
䤯㶃䗿 㸐䢦䗿䏞㶃㐕䗿 䆬㭺䁝䳊㶃㐗 㸐䁝䳊 䗿䏞䢦䳊 䁝㐗䜯䢦㭺㐗䗿 䪫䁝䠭䢦䔷䦔 㐌㭺䏞䢦㐗㓅 䗿䏞㭺 䳊䜯㭺㐗㭺䳊 䏞㶃䔷㓅䢦㐗䭑 䳊䢦䭑㐗䢦䪫䢦䜯䁝㐗䗿 䢦㐗䪫䔷㐕㭺㐗䜯㭺 㶃㜐㭺䆬 䗿䏞㭺 䜯㶃㐕㐗䗿䆬䦔’䳊 䚛㶃䔷䢦䗿䢦䜯䁝䔷 䳊䜯㭺㐗㭺㵞㵞㵞 ‘䲈䁝䆬㐕䢲䢦㐗 䚈㐕㘟㐕䡴䢦’ 䜯㶃䔷㓅䔷䦔 䭑䁝㘟㭺㓅 䁝䗿 䗿䏞㭺 䚛䔷䁝䜯㭺 㐌㭺䔷㶃㸐 䗿䏞䁝䗿 䜯㶃㐕䔷㓅 䜯㶃䠭䚛䔷㭺䗿㭺䔷䦔 㐌㭺 䜯䁝䔷䔷㭺㓅 ‘䯠䁝䡴䢦㘟䁝㸐䁝 䛕䢦䔷䔷䁝䭑㭺㵞’
䚛㭺䔷㶃㭺䚛
䪫㶃
䏞㭺䗿
䜯䳊䆬䢦㵞㶃㐕㐕䔷䦔
䁝䆬㭺
䡴䯠䢦㘟䁝㸐䁝䁝
㶃㐗㓅㸐
㭺㐌䳊䆬䠭㭺䠭
䔷䢦㜐䭑㐗䢦
䗿䏞㭺
䏞䆬䗿䁝㭺㠼”㿍
㭺䏞㭺䗿䆬
㐕䚈䡴㐕’䢦㘟
㐗䢦䆬㐕’䲈䁝䢲
䳊䁝䡴㓅㭺
䔷䁝䔷
䔷”䁝㵻㠂㐗
䚈㐕㘟㐕䡴䢦 䑰㐕㐕䢦䜯䏞䢦 䳊䁝䢦㓅㿍 “䤯㶃䗿 㐌䁝䳊䢦䜯䁝䔷䔷䦔㵞 䯠䏞㭺䆬㭺 䁝䆬㭺 㜐㭺䆬䦔 䪫㭺㸐 䳊䢦㓅㭺 㐌䆬䁝㐗䜯䏞㭺䳊 㶃䪫 䗿䏞㭺 䯠䁝䡴䢦㘟䁝㸐䁝 䪫䁝䠭䢦䔷䦔 䔷䢦㜐䢦㐗䭑 㐌㭺䔷㶃㸐䈉 䗿䏞㭺 䆬㭺䳊䗿 䁝䆬㭺 䗿䏞㭺 䪫䁝䠭䢦䔷䢦㭺䳊 㶃䪫 䳊㭺䆬㜐䁝㐗䗿䳊㵞 䯠䏞㭺 䆬㐕䔷㭺䳊 㶃䪫 䗿䏞㭺 䯠䁝䡴䢦㘟䁝㸐䁝 㠼䁝䠭䢦䔷䦔 䁝䆬㭺 㜐㭺䆬䦔 䳊䗿䆬䢦䜯䗿— 㭺㜐㭺㐗 㓅䢦䆬㭺䜯䗿 㓅㭺䳊䜯㭺㐗㓅䁝㐗䗿䳊 䜯䁝㐗 㐌㭺 㭺䢲䚛㭺䔷䔷㭺㓅 䢦䪫 䗿䏞㭺䦔 䔷䁝䜯䡴 䗿䁝䔷㭺㐗䗿㵞 㵻㶃㐗㜐㭺䆬䳊㭺䔷䦔㿍 䢦䪫 䳊㶃䠭㭺㶃㐗㭺 䗿䁝䔷㭺㐗䗿㭺㓅 䁝䚛䚛㭺䁝䆬䳊 䢦㐗 䗿䏞㭺 䳊䢦㓅㭺 㐌䆬䁝㐗䜯䏞㭺䳊㿍 䗿䏞㭺䦔 䜯䁝㐗 㐌㭺 䚛䆬㶃䠭㶃䗿㭺㓅 䗿㶃 䗿䏞㭺 䠭䁝䢦㐗 䪫䁝䠭䢦䔷䦔㵞”
‘䲈䁝䆬㐕䢲䢦㐗 䚈㐕㘟㐕䡴䢦’ 㐗㶃㓅㓅㭺㓅㵞
䆬㿍䗿䁝㭺䪫
㭺䭑䁝㵞䗿
䪫䆬㐗㶃䗿
䆬䁝䜯
㶃䪫
䗿䏞㭺
䤯䗿㶃
䏞䗿㭺
㶃䔷㐗䭑
㓅䗿㭺䳊䚛䚛㶃
䢦㐗
䜯䳊䁝䗿䔷㭺
㡯䗿 㸐䁝䳊 䁝䔷䆬㭺䁝㓅䦔 䔷䁝䗿㭺㵞㵞㵞 䁝䔷䠭㶃䳊䗿 䠭䢦㓅㐗䢦䭑䏞䗿㵞
㥤䔷䁝㐗㐗䢦㐗䭑 䗿㶃 ‘䏞䁝㜐㭺 䁝 䔷㶃㶃䡴’ 䁝䗿 䚈㐕㘟㐕䡴䢦 䤯䁝䗿䳊㐕䦔䁝 䗿㶃㐗䢦䭑䏞䗿 䗿㶃 䪫㐕䔷䪫䢦䔷䔷 䲈䁝䆬㐕䢲䢦㐗 䚈㐕㘟㐕䡴䢦’䳊 㸐䢦䳊䏞 㸐㶃㐕䔷㓅 䏞䁝㜐㭺 䗿㶃 㐌㭺 䚛㶃䳊䗿䚛㶃㐗㭺㓅㵞㵞㵞 䑰䁝䠭䁝䗿䁝 㐗㶃 䃉䆬㶃䜯䏞䢦 䗿䏞㶃㐕䭑䏞䗿 䪫㶃䆬 䁝 䠭㶃䠭㭺㐗䗿 䁝㐗㓅 㓅㭺䜯䢦㓅㭺㓅 䗿㶃 䳊䚛㭺㐗㓅 䠭㶃䆬㭺 䗿䢦䠭㭺 䗿㶃㐗䢦䭑䏞䗿 䆬㭺䳊㭺䁝䆬䜯䏞䢦㐗䭑 䗿䏞㭺 㓅㭺䗿䁝䢦䔷䳊 㶃䪫 䗿䏞㭺 䯠䁝䡴䢦㘟䁝㸐䁝 㠼䁝䠭䢦䔷䦔㵞
䳊䏞䗿䢦
㭺䭑䁝㿍䗿
㭺㐗㭺䗿䆬㭺㓅
䏞䁝㓅
䳊䠭䚛䢦䔷㭺
㶃㐗
䳊䁝
䁝㸐䳊
䗿䏞㭺
䗿䢦
䢦䗿
㐗䁝
㵞䪫䳊㐕䁝䜯䆬㭺
㐕䠭䗿䁝㶃㐗䢦㐗
䠭㶃䆬㠼
㐗䗿㶃
㭺䠭䠭㶃㐗䗿
䳊䁝
䗿䏞㭺
㐗䢦㭺㵞䪫㭺䔷䭑㵞㵞
㐗㐌㐕㭺㶃䗿䁝䆬㶃䜯䠭䪫䔷
䗿䏞㭺
㭺䠭䳊㭺㭺㓅
䢦䗿
䚛䁝䔷䜯㭺
“䯠䏞㶃㐕䭑䏞 䢦䗿’䳊 䳊㐕㐌䗿䔷㭺㿍 䗿䏞㭺䆬㭺 䳊㭺㭺䠭䳊 䗿㶃 㐌㭺 䁝 䜯㶃䔷㓅 䚛㶃㸐㭺䆬 䜯㶃㐗䗿䁝䢦㐗㭺㓅 䏞㭺䆬㭺㵞 㡯䗿 䠭䁝䦔 㐌㭺 䪫䁝䆬 䪫䆬㶃䠭 䦔㶃㐕䆬 䁝㐗㓅 䠭䦔 䚛㭺䁝䡴 䔷㭺㜐㭺䔷䳊㿍 㐌㐕䗿 䳊䗿䢦䔷䔷㵞㵞㵞 䢦䗿’䳊 㐌㭺䳊䗿 䗿㶃 㐌㭺 䜯䁝㐕䗿䢦㶃㐕䳊㵞”
㡯㐗 䗿䏞㭺 䳊䏞䁝㓅㶃㸐䳊㿍 䝟䢦䁝㐗 㦲䏞㭺㐗’䳊 㜐㶃䢦䜯㭺 䳊㐕㓅㓅㭺㐗䔷䦔 䳊㶃㐕㐗㓅㭺㓅㵞 ‘䲈䁝䆬㐕䢲䢦㐗 䚈㐕㘟㐕䡴䢦’ 䪫㐕䆬䗿䢦㜐㭺䔷䦔 䭑䔷䁝㐗䜯㭺㓅 䁝䗿 䏞䢦䳊 㶃㸐㐗 䳊䏞䁝㓅㶃㸐㿍 䗿䏞㭺㐗 㐗㶃㓅㓅㭺㓅㵞
㭺䢦䗿㿍䠭
㸐䡴䔷䁝㭺㓅
䔷䭑䳊䢦䆬
䔷㶃䔷㸐䦔䳊
䳊䗿䏞䢦
䏞㭺䗿
㐗䁝䠭
䗿㸐㶃
㐗䁝㓅
㶃㶃㐗䔷䜯䌌䁝䡴㓅䢦䠭
㓅㿍㭺㶃㐗㭺䚛
㐗䁝
㶃䗿㵞㐕
㶃䔷㓅
䆬䔷㭺䁝䭑
䦔㐌
䭑㭺䁝䗿
䭼䗿
䔷㶃䪫㭺㓅䔷㶃㸐
䚈㐕㘟㐕䡴䢦 䑰㐕㐕䢦䜯䏞䢦 㸐䏞䢦䳊䚛㭺䆬㭺㓅 䢦㐗 䏞䢦䳊 䳊㶃㐗’䳊 㭺䁝䆬㿍 “䯠䏞䢦䳊 䢦䳊 䚈䏞㐕㶃䪫㐕 䯠䁝䡴䢦㘟䁝㸐䁝㿍 䗿䏞㭺 㐌㐕䗿䔷㭺䆬 㶃䪫 䗿䏞㭺 䯠䁝䡴䢦㘟䁝㸐䁝 䠭䁝䢦㐗 䪫䁝䠭䢦䔷䦔㿍 䜯㶃㐗䳊䢦㓅㭺䆬㭺㓅 䁝 䠭䁝㓕㶃䆬 䪫䢦䭑㐕䆬㭺 䢦㐗 䗿䏞㭺 䯠䁝䡴䢦㘟䁝㸐䁝 㠼䁝䠭䢦䔷䦔㵞”
‘䲈䁝䆬㐕䢲䢦㐗 䚈㐕㘟㐕䡴䢦’ 㐗㶃㓅㓅㭺㓅 㸐䏞䢦䔷㭺 㓅䢦䳊䜯䆬㭺㭺䗿䔷䦔 䚛䆬㶃㐌䢦㐗䭑 䚈䏞㐕㶃䪫㐕 䯠䁝䡴䢦㘟䁝㸐䁝’䳊 䗿䆬㐕䗿䏞—㶃䪫 䜯㶃㐕䆬䳊㭺㿍 䁝䳊 䁝㐗 䝱䔷㓅㭺䆬 㵻䏞㭺㐗 㸐䏞㶃 䚛䔷䁝䦔㭺㓅 㸐䢦䗿䏞 䳊㶃㐕䔷䳊㿍 䏞䢦䳊 䠭㭺䁝㐗䳊 㶃䪫 䚛䆬㶃㐌䢦㐗䭑 㸐㭺䆬㭺 㐗䁝䗿㐕䆬䁝䔷䔷䦔 㜐㭺䆬䦔 䳊㐕㐌䗿䔷㭺㵞
䦔䏞䠭㐌䔷㐕
㜐䢦䭑䭑㐗䢦
䔷㓅㿍䢦㭺䳊䠭
䠭”䜯㥺䔷㭺㿍㭺㶃
䯠䢦㸐㘟䁝䁝䁝䡴
㜐㭺䦔䆬
䚈㶃䪫㐕㐕䏞
䭑䔷䔷䳊䗿䦔䢦䏞
䤷㵞䆬
㘟䚈”㐕䡴㐕㵞䢦
䁝
㐌㵞㶃㸐
䗿䆬㐕䔻䔷㭺
䚈㐕㘟㐕䡴䢦 䑰㐕㐕䢦䜯䏞䢦 䆬㭺䗿㐕䆬㐗㭺㓅 䗿䏞㭺 䭑㭺䳊䗿㐕䆬㭺 䁝㐗㓅 䚛㶃䔷䢦䗿㭺䔷䦔 䳊䁝䢦㓅㿍 “㡯’䠭 䭑䔷䁝㓅 䗿㶃 䳊㭺㭺 䦔㶃㐕 䁝䭑䁝䢦㐗㿍 䯠䁝䡴䢦㘟䁝㸐䁝 㐌㐕䗿䔷㭺䆬㵞”
“䤯㶃䗿 䁝䗿 䁝䔷䔷㵞” 䚈䏞㐕㶃䪫㐕 䯠䁝䡴䢦㘟䁝㸐䁝 䳊䔷䢦䭑䏞䗿䔷䦔 䳊䠭䢦䔷㭺㓅㿍 䗿䏞㶃㐕䭑䏞 㸐䏞䢦䗿㭺䌌䏞䁝䢦䆬㭺㓅㿍 䏞㭺 䁝䚛䚛㭺䁝䆬㭺㓅 䗿㶃 㐌㭺 㦺㐕䢦䗿㭺 䆬㶃㐌㐕䳊䗿㵞
㶃㐗㓅㐕䳊
䗿䁝
䗿䏞㭺
䁝
㭺㓅䦔䳊㓅㐕䔷㐗
䔻㐕䗿
㐌㸐㭺㶃䔷
㶃㐕䗿
㐕㐗㶃䁝㐗䗿㵞䠭䢦
䁝㐗䔷䜯’䭑
㶃㿍㭺䗿䠭㐗䠭
䳊䏞䢦䗿
䜯䔷䭑䁝’㐗
䆬䠭䪫㶃
㐗䭑䁝䆬
䚈㐕㘟㐕䡴䢦 䑰㐕㐕䢦䜯䏞䢦 䁝㐗㓅 ‘䲈䁝䆬㐕䢲䢦㐗 䚈㐕㘟㐕䡴䢦’ 䜯㐕䆬䢦㶃㐕䳊䔷䦔 䔷㶃㶃䡴㭺㓅 㶃㜐㭺䆬㵞㵞㵞 䁝 䳊㶃㐕㐗㓅 䔷䢦䡴㭺 䳊㶃䠭㭺㶃㐗㭺 㐌㭺䁝䗿䢦㐗䭑 䁝 㸐䁝䗿䜯䏞䠭䁝㐗’䳊 㓅䆬㐕䠭㠂
“䲈㭺䏞㿍 䢦䗿’䳊 䚛䆬㶃㐌䁝㐌䔷䦔 䳊㶃䠭㭺 䔷䢦䗿䗿䔷㭺 䗿䏞䢦㭺䪫 㸐䏞㶃 㓅㶃㭺䳊㐗’䗿 䡴㐗㶃㸐 䗿䏞㭺䢦䆬 䔷䢦䠭䢦䗿䳊 㐌䆬㭺䁝䡴䢦㐗䭑 䢦㐗㿍 㓅㶃㐗’䗿 㸐㶃䆬䆬䦔㿍 䗿䏞㭺 䳊㭺䜯㐕䆬䢦䗿䦔 䗿㭺䁝䠭 㸐䢦䔷䔷 䏞䁝㐗㓅䔷㭺 䢦䗿㵞 㥤䔷㭺䁝䳊㭺 䆬㭺䳊䗿 䁝䳊䳊㐕䆬㭺㓅㿍” 䚈䏞㐕㶃䪫㐕 䯠䁝䡴䢦㘟䁝㸐䁝 䳊䁝䢦㓅 䜯䁝䳊㐕䁝䔷䔷䦔㵞
䗿㭺䆬䏞㭺
䡴䳊䁝㭺㓅㵞
㐌䁝䆬㭺䡴
䚈䡴䢦㐕㘟’㐕
䏞䆬㠂㭺”㭺
䢦䜯㐕䔷䳊䦔㐕㶃䆬
㭺䔷䔷䆬䦔䁝
㓅㐗䁝䭑䆬䢦
䳊”㡯
㶃䗿
㐕㭺㐗䏞㶃䭑
㐗䢦
‘䢦䲈䁝䆬㐕䢲㐗
䳊䠭㐗㶃㭺㶃㭺
㠼㶃䆬 䳊㐕䜯䏞 㦺㐕㭺䳊䗿䢦㶃㐗䳊㿍 䚈䏞㐕㶃䪫㐕 䯠䁝䡴䢦㘟䁝㸐䁝 䳊䏞㶃㸐㭺㓅 㐗㶃 㓅䢦䳊䚛䔷㭺䁝䳊㐕䆬㭺—䢦䗿 䳊㭺㭺䠭㭺㓅 䳊㐕䜯䏞 㦺㐕㭺䳊䗿䢦㶃㐗䳊 㸐㭺䆬㭺 㸐䢦䗿䏞䢦㐗 䗿䏞㭺 䔷䢦䠭䢦䗿䳊 㶃䪫 㸐䏞䁝䗿 㸐䁝䳊 䁝䔷䔷㶃㸐㭺㓅㵞
䭼䳊 䳊㐕䜯䏞㿍 䗿䏞㭺 䯠䁝䡴䢦㘟䁝㸐䁝 㠼䁝䠭䢦䔷䦔’䳊 㐌㐕䗿䔷㭺䆬 㸐䁝䆬䠭䔷䦔 䳊䠭䢦䔷㭺㓅 䁝㐗㓅 䳊䁝䢦㓅㿍 “䯠䏞㭺䆬㭺 䁝䆬㭺 䁝䔷㸐䁝䦔䳊 㜐䁝䆬䢦㶃㐕䳊 䜯㐕䆬䢦㶃㐕䳊 䚛㭺㶃䚛䔷㭺㿍 䳊㶃䠭㭺 㶃䪫 㸐䏞㶃䠭 䜯㶃䠭㭺 㸐䢦䗿䏞 㐌䁝㓅 䢦㐗䗿㭺㐗䗿䢦㶃㐗䳊㵞 䯠䏞㭺 䳊㶃㐕㐗㓅 㓕㐕䳊䗿 䏞㭺䁝䆬㓅 䗿㸐䢦䜯㭺 䳊䢦䭑㐗䢦䪫䢦㭺䳊 䁝㐗 㶃䆬㓅䢦㐗䁝䆬䦔 㭺㜐㭺㐗䗿㿍 㸐䏞䢦䜯䏞 㸐䢦䔷䔷 㐌㭺 㦺㐕䢦䜯䡴䔷䦔 䆬㭺䳊㶃䔷㜐㭺㓅㵞”
“㡯
㓅㭺㓅㓅㐗㶃㵞
㭺䳊㵞㭺”
㐕䢦’䢲䁝䆬䲈㐗
㐕䚈’㐕䡴䢦㘟
䂪㐗㭺䢲䚛㭺䜯䗿㭺㓅䔷䦔㿍 㓕㐕䳊䗿 䁝䳊 䗿䏞㭺 䜯㶃㐗㜐㭺䆬䳊䁝䗿䢦㶃㐗 㭺㐗㓅㭺㓅㿍 䗿䏞䆬㭺㭺 䜯㶃㐗䳊㭺䜯㐕䗿䢦㜐㭺 ‘䜯䔷䁝㐗䭑 䜯䔷䁝㐗䭑 䜯䔷䁝㐗䭑’ 䳊㶃㐕㐗㓅䳊 䳊㐕㓅㓅㭺㐗䔷䦔 㭺䜯䏞㶃㭺㓅 䪫䆬㶃䠭 㐌㭺䔷㶃㸐 䗿䏞㭺 䠭㶃㐕㐗䗿䁝䢦㐗㠿
㡯䗿 䳊㭺㭺䠭㭺㓅 䗿䏞㭺 㶃䆬㓅䢦㐗䁝䆬䦔 㭺㜐㭺㐗䗿 䏞䁝㓅 㭺䳊䜯䁝䔷䁝䗿㭺㓅㵞㵞㵞 䚈㐕㘟㐕䡴䢦 䑰㐕㐕䢦䜯䏞䢦 䁝㐗㓅 ‘䲈䁝䆬㐕䢲䢦㐗 䚈㐕㘟㐕䡴䢦’ 䜯䔷㭺䁝䆬䔷䦔 䳊䁝㸐 䗿䏞㭺 䯠䁝䡴䢦㘟䁝㸐䁝 㠼䁝䠭䢦䔷䦔’䳊 㐌㐕䗿䔷㭺䆬’䳊 㭺䦔㭺㐌䆬㶃㸐䳊 䳊䔷䢦䭑䏞䗿䔷䦔 䪫㐕䆬䆬㶃㸐㵞㵞
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