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𝙸𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝, 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜, 𝙸 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚌 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎.
𝙵𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚐𝚘, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎. 𝙼𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚕𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝙻𝚎𝚞𝚔𝚊𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚊 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝. 𝚃𝚘𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎, 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚌 𝙸 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕.
𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚊𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜. 𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚜, 𝙸 𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎, 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚔 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚝𝚑.
𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚏 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚗? 𝙸 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗, 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜. 𝙸 𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎. 𝙷𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚊𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚐 𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚢𝚜𝚜.
𝙼𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚛'𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚌 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑. 𝙸𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜. 𝙸 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚑. 𝙷𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝.
𝙾𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚊𝚛𝚢, 𝙸 𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚌 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜. 𝙼𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚜 𝚠𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜. 𝚂𝚊𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢, 𝙸 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝, 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚗, 𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚠, 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝟾 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝙹𝚞𝚕𝚢. 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚠𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚎.
CREDITS:
Image: my property.
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Dedicɑted to ɑll those poets who contɾibute, dɑγ bγ dɑγ, to mɑke ouɾ plɑnet ɑ betteɾ woɾld.
𝙴𝚜 𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚚𝚞𝚎, 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚞𝚎́𝚜 𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚜 𝚊𝚗̃𝚘𝚜, 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚕𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚊 𝚢 𝚕𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚓𝚘́ 𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚒́ 𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚊 𝚎𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚎𝚛𝚍𝚘 𝚍𝚎 𝚖𝚒 𝚑𝚒𝚓𝚊.
𝙷𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗̃𝚘𝚜, 𝚎𝚕 𝚖𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚜𝚎 𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚟𝚒𝚘́ 𝚖𝚊́𝚜 𝚘𝚜𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚘 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚊 𝚖𝚒́. 𝙼𝚒 𝚙𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚗̃𝚊 𝚑𝚒𝚓𝚊, 𝚌𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚞𝚜 𝚘𝚓𝚘𝚜 𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚜 𝚍𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚍 𝚢 𝚜𝚞 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚘𝚜𝚊, 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚘́ 𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚊𝚍𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚘. 𝙻𝚊 𝚕𝚎𝚞𝚌𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚊 𝚜𝚎 𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚘́ 𝚜𝚞 𝚌𝚞𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚘, 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚘 𝚜𝚞 𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚊 𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚒 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚘́𝚗. 𝙷𝚘𝚢, 𝚎𝚗 𝚎𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚘 𝚍𝚎 𝚜𝚞 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚍𝚊, 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚘 𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚋𝚒𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚋𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚊 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚣𝚊, 𝚕𝚊 𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣𝚊 𝚢 𝚕𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚊𝚞́𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚘.
𝙴𝚕 𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚘 𝚗𝚘 𝚑𝚊 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚙𝚊𝚍𝚘 𝚖𝚒 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚣𝚊. 𝙰 𝚟𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚜, 𝚌𝚞𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚎𝚕 𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚞𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚊 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚜 𝚊́𝚛𝚋𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚜, 𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚘 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚞 𝚟𝚘𝚣, 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚊́𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊́ 𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚊. 𝙻𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚘́𝚗 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚢𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚎 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊, 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚘 𝚜𝚒 𝚜𝚞 𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚊 𝚜𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚋𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚊 𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚗 𝚕𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚜. 𝙻𝚊 𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚘𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚊 𝚝𝚘𝚍𝚊𝚟𝚒́𝚊 𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚊 𝚕𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚍𝚎 𝚜𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚋𝚎𝚣𝚊, 𝚢 𝚖𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚍𝚘𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚛.
¿𝚀𝚞𝚎́ 𝚎𝚜 𝚕𝚊 𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚘 𝚕𝚊 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚊 𝚎𝚗 𝚞𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚞𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘? 𝚂𝚞𝚎𝚗̃𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚊 𝚍𝚎 𝚗𝚞𝚎𝚟𝚘, 𝚌𝚘𝚗 𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚞 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚊 𝚢 𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚜. 𝙸𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚘 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚐𝚞́𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚘́𝚗 𝚍𝚎𝚕 𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘, 𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘, 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚢 𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚘. 𝙻𝚊 𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣𝚊 𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚕𝚊 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚣𝚊 𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚣𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚜𝚖𝚘.
𝙻𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚊 𝚍𝚎 𝚖𝚒 𝚑𝚒𝚓𝚊 𝚗𝚘 𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚘́ 𝚌𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚞 𝚞́𝚕𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚘 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚘. 𝙴𝚜𝚝𝚊́ 𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚊𝚜 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊 𝚢 𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚜 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚜𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚜. 𝙻𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚞𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚎𝚕 𝚜𝚘𝚕 𝚊𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚊 𝚖𝚒 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚕 𝚢 𝚌𝚞𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚕𝚊 𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚟𝚒𝚊 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚊 𝚕𝚊 𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚊. 𝚂𝚞 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚊 𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚣𝚌𝚕𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚗 𝚎𝚕 𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚘, 𝚢 𝚜𝚞 𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚣𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚍𝚘 𝚍𝚎 𝚖𝚒 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚘́𝚗.
𝙴𝚗 𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚘, 𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚘 𝚕𝚊 𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚘𝚜 𝚢 𝚕𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚊𝚞́𝚗 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚊. 𝙼𝚒 𝚑𝚒𝚓𝚊 𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚎𝚛𝚍𝚘𝚜, 𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚎𝚗̃𝚘𝚜 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚓𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚜 𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚜. 𝙻𝚊 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚣𝚊 𝚢 𝚕𝚊 𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗, 𝚢 𝚎𝚗 𝚎𝚜𝚊 𝚍𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚍 𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚞𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚎𝚕𝚘, 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚖𝚒 𝚜𝚎𝚐𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚓𝚘, 𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚠, 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚎𝚕 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚊𝚍𝚘 𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚍𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚕𝚒𝚘 𝚌𝚞𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚘́ 𝟾 𝚊𝚗̃𝚘𝚜. 𝚀𝚞𝚒𝚣𝚊́𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚐𝚞́𝚗 𝚍𝚒́𝚊, 𝚌𝚞𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚖𝚒 𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚘 𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚞𝚎, 𝚗𝚘𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚜 𝚎𝚗 𝚞𝚗 𝚊𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚘 𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚘.
CRÉDITOS:
Imágenes: de mi propiedad.
Títulos: CoolText
Dedicɑdo ɑ todos ɑquellos que contɾibuγen, díɑ ɑ díɑ, ɑ hɑceɾ de nuestɾo plɑnetɑ, un mundo mejoɾ.
Dedicɑdo ɑ todos ɑquellos que contɾibuγen, díɑ ɑ díɑ, ɑ hɑceɾ de nuestɾo plɑnetɑ, un mundo mejoɾ.