𝗨𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗱𝗼𝘄𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝗖𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗱𝗮, 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗰𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱, 𝗮 𝗺𝗶𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗹𝗲 𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵. 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗮 𝗯𝗮𝗹𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗶𝗱 𝗮𝗶𝗿, 𝗯𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗶𝘁 𝗮 𝗱𝗲𝗲𝗽, 𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗵𝘆 𝘀𝗰𝗲𝗻𝘁: 𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗼𝗿. 𝗘𝗮𝗰𝗵 𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵 𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗱𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗶𝘀𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲, 𝗮 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱𝘆 𝗺𝗶𝘅 𝗼𝗳 𝘄𝗲𝘁 𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗵, 𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗯𝘂𝗱𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘁 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗳𝘂𝗺𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁 𝗳𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿𝘀. 𝗦𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗮𝗹𝘀 𝗶𝘁𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝘆 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗰𝗿𝗼𝗰𝘂𝘀𝗲𝘀, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁 𝗳𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵, 𝗮𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘀𝗻𝗼𝘄𝗱𝗿𝗼𝗽𝘀 (𝗚𝗮𝗹𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗵𝘂𝘀 𝗡𝗶𝘃𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘀) 𝗽𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝗻𝗼𝘄, 𝘂𝗻𝗳𝘂𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗽𝘂𝗿𝗽𝗹𝗲-𝘄𝗵𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗮𝗹𝘀 𝗮𝗺𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗮𝗺𝗽 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗼𝘄𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗱𝗶𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗲𝘀. 𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗱𝗮𝘆, 𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗸 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗸, 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝗺𝗶𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗳𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿𝘀, 𝘀𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗱 𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆.
𝗖𝗿𝗼𝗰𝘂𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗿𝘆𝘀𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗵𝘂𝘀, 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘀𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗳𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗽𝘂𝗿𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗴𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗮𝗹𝘀, 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀 𝗯𝗼𝗹𝗱𝗹𝘆 𝗮𝗺𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗻𝗼𝘄𝘆 𝗱𝗲𝗯𝗿𝗶𝘀. 𝗜𝘁𝘀 𝘃𝗶𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀 𝘀𝗲𝗲𝗺 𝘁𝗼 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗶𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗯𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵. 𝗔𝗹𝗹 𝗮𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝘁, 𝗿𝗲𝗷𝘂𝘃𝗲𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗺𝗼𝘀𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝗮𝘁𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳𝘆 𝗴𝗿𝗲𝗲𝗻, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗴𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝘀𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗲𝗹𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸 𝗳𝗿𝗲𝗲 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝗰𝗲.
𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗲𝘀, 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗮𝗿𝗲, 𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗴𝗹𝗶𝗺𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗶𝗻𝘆 𝗯𝘂𝗱𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝘀𝗼𝗼𝗻 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲𝘀. 𝗔𝘀 𝗜 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝘂𝗽, 𝗮 𝗳𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝗼𝗳 𝗴𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗴𝘂𝗿𝗲𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗹 𝗯𝗹𝘂𝗲 𝘀𝗸𝘆, 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗳𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗲𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮 𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘂𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗻𝗼𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗴𝗶𝗰 𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘀. 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗹𝗹𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗯𝗶𝗿𝗱𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗴𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝗳𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗴𝘀, 𝗮𝘀 𝗶𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗽𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗱𝘂𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿.
𝗜𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝗲𝗲𝗺𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗸; 𝗻𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗰𝗲𝗹𝗲𝗯𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻. 𝗔𝗺𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗼𝗼𝘁𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗿𝗼𝗰𝘂𝘀, 𝗮 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗲𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗶𝘁𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳. 𝗛𝗲𝗿 𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗔𝘂𝗿𝗼𝗿𝗮, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗹 𝗰𝗿𝗼𝗰𝘂𝘀. 𝗛𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘃𝗼𝗶𝗰𝗲, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝘁 𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀:
“𝗔𝘁 𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘁, 𝗜 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘂𝗻'𝘀 𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲”, -𝘀𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗔𝘂𝗿𝗼𝗿𝗮-, 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱. "𝗜 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗼 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗺𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁". 𝗛𝗼𝘄 𝗺𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗜 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝗰𝗲, 𝗳𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗲𝗻𝗱. 𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝗻𝗼𝘄, 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗜 𝗮𝗺, 𝗼𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻, 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵.
𝗔𝗹𝗹 𝗮𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝗮 𝘀𝘆𝗺𝗽𝗵𝗼𝗻𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗻𝘀. 𝗔 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗿𝗿𝗲𝗹 𝘀𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗽𝗮𝘀𝘁, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲𝘀 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝗽𝗮𝘄𝘀 𝗮𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮 𝗿𝗵𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗺𝗶𝗰 𝘁𝗼𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀𝗰𝗮𝗽𝗲. 𝗔 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗴 𝗱𝗲𝗲𝗿, 𝗲𝘆𝗲𝘀 𝗯𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗶𝗼𝘀𝗶𝘁𝘆, 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝗰𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗻𝗶𝗳𝗳 𝗔𝘂𝗿𝗼𝗿𝗮. 𝗜𝘁𝘀 𝗽𝗮𝘄𝘀 𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝘀𝗼𝗳𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗻𝗲𝘄𝗹𝘆 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗴𝗿𝗮𝘀𝘀, 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮 𝗳𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗵 𝘀𝗰𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗳𝗶𝗹𝗹𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝗶𝗿.
𝗛𝘆𝗮𝗰𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗵, 𝗔𝘂𝗿𝗼𝗿𝗮'𝘀 𝗻𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝗯𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗻𝘁, 𝗺𝘂𝗿𝗺𝘂𝗿𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗹𝘆: “𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘂𝗻 𝗯𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝘂𝘀 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸, 𝘆𝗲𝘀, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗶𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗹𝘀𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗲𝘀 𝘂𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗴𝘁𝗵”. 𝗗𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗿𝗼𝗽𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂? 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗳 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘂𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗺𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗵 𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗴𝗿𝗼𝘄𝘁𝗵.
𝗔𝘂𝗿𝗼𝗿𝗮 𝘀𝗺𝗶𝗹𝗲𝘀, 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗮𝗹𝘀 𝘃𝗶𝗯𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝘀𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗹𝘆, 𝘀𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗮𝗹𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝘀 𝗮 𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗴 𝗱𝗲𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗽𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗻𝗶𝗳𝗳 𝗵𝗲𝗿. 𝗔 𝗳𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝗼𝗳 𝗴𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲 𝗰𝗿𝗼𝘀𝘀𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗸𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗼𝘂𝘁𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗲𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀. 𝗔𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗴𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗲𝘀, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝗹𝗱𝗲𝗻 𝗵𝘂𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗱𝘂𝘀𝗸 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀𝗰𝗮𝗽𝗲. 𝗦𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗼𝗯𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱, 𝗶𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗱. 𝗜𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗲𝘅𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗼𝗳𝘁 𝗯𝘂𝗱𝘀, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘁 𝗳𝗿𝗮𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗱𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗱, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺. 𝗜𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗳𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘀𝗲𝘀, 𝗮 𝗰𝗲𝗹𝗲𝗯𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀, 𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗱𝘀 𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝘆. 𝗜 𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗶𝘁, 𝗜 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹 𝗶𝘁, 𝗜 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝘀𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹.
Come ɑnd pɑɾticipɑte becɑuse γou still hɑve, time…
A Pictuɾe Is Woɾth A Thousɑnd Woɾds
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Dedicɑted to ɑll those poets who contɾibute, dɑγ bγ dɑγ, to mɑke ouɾ plɑnet ɑ betteɾ woɾld.
𝗨𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗱𝗼𝘄𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝗖𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗱𝗮, 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗰𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱, 𝗮 𝗺𝗶𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗹𝗲 𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵. 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗮 𝗯𝗮𝗹𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗶𝗱 𝗮𝗶𝗿, 𝗯𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗶𝘁 𝗮 𝗱𝗲𝗲𝗽, 𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗵𝘆 𝘀𝗰𝗲𝗻𝘁: 𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗼𝗿. 𝗘𝗮𝗰𝗵 𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵 𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗱𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗶𝘀𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲, 𝗮 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱𝘆 𝗺𝗶𝘅 𝗼𝗳 𝘄𝗲𝘁 𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗵, 𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗯𝘂𝗱𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘁 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗳𝘂𝗺𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁 𝗳𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿𝘀. 𝗦𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗮𝗹𝘀 𝗶𝘁𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝘆 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗰𝗿𝗼𝗰𝘂𝘀𝗲𝘀, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁 𝗳𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵, 𝗮𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘀𝗻𝗼𝘄𝗱𝗿𝗼𝗽𝘀 (𝗚𝗮𝗹𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗵𝘂𝘀 𝗡𝗶𝘃𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘀) 𝗽𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝗻𝗼𝘄, 𝘂𝗻𝗳𝘂𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗽𝘂𝗿𝗽𝗹𝗲-𝘄𝗵𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗮𝗹𝘀 𝗮𝗺𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗮𝗺𝗽 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗼𝘄𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗱𝗶𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗲𝘀. 𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗱𝗮𝘆, 𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗸 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗸, 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝗺𝗶𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗳𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿𝘀, 𝘀𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗱 𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆.
𝗖𝗿𝗼𝗰𝘂𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗿𝘆𝘀𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗵𝘂𝘀, 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘀𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗳𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗽𝘂𝗿𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗴𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗮𝗹𝘀, 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀 𝗯𝗼𝗹𝗱𝗹𝘆 𝗮𝗺𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗻𝗼𝘄𝘆 𝗱𝗲𝗯𝗿𝗶𝘀. 𝗜𝘁𝘀 𝘃𝗶𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀 𝘀𝗲𝗲𝗺 𝘁𝗼 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗶𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗯𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵. 𝗔𝗹𝗹 𝗮𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝘁, 𝗿𝗲𝗷𝘂𝘃𝗲𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗺𝗼𝘀𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝗮𝘁𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳𝘆 𝗴𝗿𝗲𝗲𝗻, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗴𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝘀𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗲𝗹𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸 𝗳𝗿𝗲𝗲 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝗰𝗲.
𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗲𝘀, 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗮𝗿𝗲, 𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗴𝗹𝗶𝗺𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗶𝗻𝘆 𝗯𝘂𝗱𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝘀𝗼𝗼𝗻 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲𝘀. 𝗔𝘀 𝗜 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝘂𝗽, 𝗮 𝗳𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝗼𝗳 𝗴𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗴𝘂𝗿𝗲𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗹 𝗯𝗹𝘂𝗲 𝘀𝗸𝘆, 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗳𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗲𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮 𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘂𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗻𝗼𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗴𝗶𝗰 𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘀. 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗹𝗹𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗯𝗶𝗿𝗱𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗴𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝗳𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗴𝘀, 𝗮𝘀 𝗶𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗽𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗱𝘂𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿.
𝗜𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝗲𝗲𝗺𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗸; 𝗻𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗰𝗲𝗹𝗲𝗯𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻. 𝗔𝗺𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗼𝗼𝘁𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗿𝗼𝗰𝘂𝘀, 𝗮 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗲𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗶𝘁𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳. 𝗛𝗲𝗿 𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗔𝘂𝗿𝗼𝗿𝗮, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗹 𝗰𝗿𝗼𝗰𝘂𝘀. 𝗛𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘃𝗼𝗶𝗰𝗲, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝘁 𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀:
“𝗔𝘁 𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘁, 𝗜 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘂𝗻'𝘀 𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲”, -𝘀𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗔𝘂𝗿𝗼𝗿𝗮-, 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱. "𝗜 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗼 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗺𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁". 𝗛𝗼𝘄 𝗺𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗜 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝗰𝗲, 𝗳𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗲𝗻𝗱. 𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝗻𝗼𝘄, 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗜 𝗮𝗺, 𝗼𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻, 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵.
𝗔𝗹𝗹 𝗮𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝗮 𝘀𝘆𝗺𝗽𝗵𝗼𝗻𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗻𝘀. 𝗔 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗿𝗿𝗲𝗹 𝘀𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗽𝗮𝘀𝘁, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲𝘀 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝗽𝗮𝘄𝘀 𝗮𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮 𝗿𝗵𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗺𝗶𝗰 𝘁𝗼𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀𝗰𝗮𝗽𝗲. 𝗔 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗴 𝗱𝗲𝗲𝗿, 𝗲𝘆𝗲𝘀 𝗯𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗶𝗼𝘀𝗶𝘁𝘆, 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝗰𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗻𝗶𝗳𝗳 𝗔𝘂𝗿𝗼𝗿𝗮. 𝗜𝘁𝘀 𝗽𝗮𝘄𝘀 𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝘀𝗼𝗳𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗻𝗲𝘄𝗹𝘆 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗴𝗿𝗮𝘀𝘀, 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮 𝗳𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗵 𝘀𝗰𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗳𝗶𝗹𝗹𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝗶𝗿.
𝗛𝘆𝗮𝗰𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗵, 𝗔𝘂𝗿𝗼𝗿𝗮'𝘀 𝗻𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝗯𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗻𝘁, 𝗺𝘂𝗿𝗺𝘂𝗿𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗹𝘆: “𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘂𝗻 𝗯𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝘂𝘀 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸, 𝘆𝗲𝘀, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗶𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗹𝘀𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗲𝘀 𝘂𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗴𝘁𝗵”. 𝗗𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗿𝗼𝗽𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂? 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗳 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘂𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗺𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗵 𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗴𝗿𝗼𝘄𝘁𝗵.
𝗔𝘂𝗿𝗼𝗿𝗮 𝘀𝗺𝗶𝗹𝗲𝘀, 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗮𝗹𝘀 𝘃𝗶𝗯𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝘀𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗹𝘆, 𝘀𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗮𝗹𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝘀 𝗮 𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗴 𝗱𝗲𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗽𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗻𝗶𝗳𝗳 𝗵𝗲𝗿. 𝗔 𝗳𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝗼𝗳 𝗴𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲 𝗰𝗿𝗼𝘀𝘀𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗸𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗼𝘂𝘁𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗲𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀. 𝗔𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗴𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗲𝘀, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝗹𝗱𝗲𝗻 𝗵𝘂𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗱𝘂𝘀𝗸 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀𝗰𝗮𝗽𝗲. 𝗦𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗼𝗯𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱, 𝗶𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗱. 𝗜𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗲𝘅𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗼𝗳𝘁 𝗯𝘂𝗱𝘀, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘁 𝗳𝗿𝗮𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗱𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗱, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺. 𝗜𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗳𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘀𝗲𝘀, 𝗮 𝗰𝗲𝗹𝗲𝗯𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀, 𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗱𝘀 𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝘆. 𝗜 𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗶𝘁, 𝗜 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹 𝗶𝘁, 𝗜 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝘀𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹.
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.
This is a beautiful story of a beautiful time ... the dawn (Aurora) of spring!
I have learned to marvel at the characteristics of each season, we are coming out of winter, there is still winter present. I'm glad you stopped by my entry. Again, I remembered Roberta Flack, who left a month ago, as I have told you, you inspire me.
Very wise words to express the magnificence of saffron.
You are full of creativity and elegance.
Thank you. They are just beginning to appear in the garden of the house and in the valley above. The snow has started to disappear and soon we will see the trees dressed up.
What a beautiful piece of the saffron spring you have given.
@amigoponc, you're rewarding 3 replies from this discussion thread.