Working as a police officer in Mexico-Chapter 1711 - 769: Don’t Hit the Greedy or the Lazy, Hit Those Who Can’t See What’s Coming!
Capítulo 1711: Chapter 769: Don’t Hit the Greedy or the Lazy, Hit Those Who Can’t See What’s Coming!
“It’s simple. Italy openly calls for ceasefire negotiations. During the talks, the remaining Italian forces will stay neutral and not engage in any offensive actions. In return, we will support the Italians in gaining certain interests on American soil after the war.”
Truly brutal…
So many have died on the frontline, yet the politicians begin dividing spoils here.
“I need to consult Rome.”
“Of course.” Hernandez stood up, “But please be quick. War waits for no one. Tomorrow, or the day after, another country’s forces might suffer attacks. By then, there will be more than just Italy wanting to negotiate.”
The two shook hands.
Outside the meeting room, Lake Geneva shimmered. Swans leisurely swam by, as if there was no war on the other side of the world.
Batista stood by the window, gazing at the lake.
He thought of Luca Bertolini. They had met several times at military parties in Rome. A proud young man, always wanting to prove himself worthy of his family’s name.
Now he has proven it, with his life.
“Foolish.” Batista whispered to himself, unsure if he was mentioning Bertolini or the war.
He picked up the phone, dialed the encrypted line to Rome.
May 16, evening, Indiana front line.
On the contact line between Mexico and NATO troops, gunshots had greatly diminished. After the Italian Brigade collapsed, the adjacent French and British forces both withdrew their lines, leaving a “vacuum zone” about five kilometers wide.
In the center of this zone was an abandoned farm. Half of the barn had collapsed, and all the farmhouse windows were shattered.
Inside the barn, a Mexican patrol was resting, a five-man team led by Sergeant Julio.
“Switching positions tomorrow.”
Julio looked at the map, “Going back for a hot shower. My wife wrote that our son has learned to walk.”
Young Private Pedro was checking his rifle: “Sergeant, is the war ending soon?”
“Who knows.” Julio lit a cigarette, “It’s up to the politicians.”
Suddenly, the sound of an engine was heard outside.
Everyone instantly grabbed their weapons, each choosing a shooting position. Julio peered out through the broken window.
A British “Saxon” armored vehicle, painted with camouflage, stopped by the roadside a hundred meters outside the farm. Three British soldiers disembarked, unarmed, and one was waving a white flag.
“What’s going on?” Pedro asked quietly.
Julio frowned, “Stay put, I’ll go see.”
He put down his rifle, raised both hands, and slowly walked out of the barn, stopping fifty meters between them.
The British soldier waving the white flag was a lieutenant, young as a college student.
“We mean no harm!” he shouted in Spanish with an accent, “Just want to talk!”
“About what?” Julio asked.
“Exchange.” The lieutenant said, “We have coffee and chocolate. Want to trade for your… tortillas? Also, do you have newspapers? We’d like to see the news.”
Julio was stunned for a few seconds, then smiled.
An absurd moment in war.
“Wait here.”
He went back to the barn, grabbed a few tortillas and a three-day-old Mexico City newspaper. He walked back and placed them on the ground in the middle. The British lieutenant also placed several packets of coffee and chocolate.
“Thank you.” The lieutenant said, “How are things on your side?”
“Alive.” Julio said, “And yours?”
“Bored.” The lieutenant shrugged, “Digging trenches daily, awaiting orders, heard the Italians are done?”
“Yes.”
The lieutenant was silent for a moment: “Damn war.”
Julio nodded: “Damn war.”
Both picked up their items and returned to their positions, without shooting, without hostility, just like two travelers who met by chance on the wasteland, exchanged some supplies and each moved on their way.
Julio returned to the barn, distributed chocolate and coffee to his team.
Pedro unwrapped the chocolate and took a bite: “Given by the British?”
“Yes.”
“They… aren’t what we imagined.”
“They’re human.” Julio looked out the window, watching as the British armored vehicle slowly drove away, “Everyone needs to eat, everyone misses home, everyone fears death.”
The setting sun dyed the fields a golden hue. On the distant hills, the iron wire of both sides’ lines and watchtowers could be seen distinctly.
But on this twilight farm, war temporarily ceased.
Perhaps this is just a brief interlude.
Perhaps it’s a new beginning.
Julio didn’t know.
He only knew that tomorrow he would return home to see his son walk.
He put away the map: “Prepare to withdraw, back to the rear.”
The patrol gathered their gear, walked out of the barn. The sunset cast their shadows very long.
In the distance, sporadic gunshots rang again.
But soon, silence returned.
盧
擄
擄
䰄䙖㳚
盧
㥤㐓㙣
老
㐞䏴䲚㔺䐍㮄䖡㒭
露
蘆
擄
爐
㬷䜎㬷㙣䦯
䙖䰆䐍䆸㷀䙖䐍㿸
擄䲸䖡㔺 䙖䐍䐍䆸䖡䆸䢿䙖䏴䆸㐞䐍 㐞䮯 䏴䖡㔺 㿸䏴䙖䢿䆸䙖䐍 “㮄䐍䆸㛴㔺䲚” 㭻䲚䆸䠠䙖㷀㔺 䵣䙖䯭 䢿䆸㝖㔺 䙖 㭻㒭㮴㝖㔺䏴 㐞䮯 䆸㮴㔺 䵣䙖䏴㔺䲚 㛴㐞㒭䲚㔺㷀 㐞䀸㔺䲚 䏴䖡㔺 䖡㔺䙖㷀䯭 㐞䮯 䏴䖡㔺 䴝㿬䲸䒀 㿬䢿䢿䆸㔺㷀 㮴㐞䯧䯧䙖䐍㷀㔺䲚䯭䰆
䴻䆸䠠䖡䏴㣚
䵣䏴䖡㣚䙖
䖡䆸䴻䏴䠠
䑂䀸㔺䐍䏴㒭䙖䢿䢿䰄㙣 㔺䀸㔺䲚䰄㐞䐍㔺 䵣㐞㒭䢿㷀 䏴䙖㝖㔺 䏴㒭䲚䐍䯭 䠠㔺䏴䏴䆸䐍䠠 䖡䆸䏴䰆
㳚㔺䐷䆸㮴㐞 䆸䯭 䏴㐞㐞 䯭䏴䲚㐞䐍䠠䰆
㐞㙣㮄
㐞䏴㭻䙖㒭
㷀䏴䢿䙖䖡㔺
䲚㔺㞢㔺
䮯䮯䏴䰄䆸
㐞䮯
䐍䏴㐞
䏴㐞䯭㒭䖡
䙖䠠䀸䆸㮴㷀䐍䐍䙖
䀸䰄㔺䲚
䙖䆸㮴䏴䏴
㐞䏴䆸㔺䯭㔺䯧䢿㝖䲚
㒭䲚㔺䮯䲚䰆䖡䏴
䲚䏴䐍䮯㐞
䖡㔺䏴
䆸㔺䢿䐍
䇊䰄䆸䏴㙣
䴝㐞 㐞䐍㔺 㮴㐞㒭䢿㷀 䯭䙖㮴䲚䆸䮯䆸㮴㔺 䏴䖡㔺䯧䯭㔺䢿䀸㔺䯭 䮯㐞䲚 䏴䖡㔺 㒁䐍䆸䏴㔺㷀 㮄䏴䙖䏴㔺䯭㙣 㮴㐞㒭䢿㷀 䏴䖡㔺䰄㣚
㯚㔺 㮴䙖䯧㔺 䖡㔺䲚㔺 䏴㐞 䯧䙖㝖㔺 䯧㐞䐍㔺䰄㴴㴴㴴
䏴㷀䵣㔺䙖䐍
䴝㐞
㔺䖡䏴
䆸㔺䲚㬊䰆䐍㐞䆸䏴䢿
㐞䐍㔺
䏴㐞
䐷䏴䐍㔺
㭻㔺
䲸䖡㔺 㬊䲚䆸䏴䆸䯭䖡 䮯㐞䲚㮴㔺䯭 䵣㔺䲚㔺 䏴䖡㔺 䮯䆸䲚䯭䏴 䏴㐞 䲚㔺䏴䲚㔺䙖䏴 䏴䖡㔺䆸䲚 㷀㔺䮯㔺䐍䯭䆸䀸㔺 䢿䆸䐍㔺㙣 㛴㒭䢿䢿䆸䐍䠠 㭻䙖㮴㝖 䏴䖡㔺 䯭䙖䢿䆸㔺䐍䏴 䏴㐞 䙖䢿䆸䠠䐍 䵣䆸䏴䖡 䏴䖡㔺 䙖㷀䗿䙖㮴㔺䐍䏴 䴻䲚㔺䐍㮴䖡 㷀㔺䮯㔺䐍䯭㔺 䙖䲚㔺䙖䰆
㮄㔺㔺䆸䐍䠠 䏴䖡䆸䯭㙣 䏴䖡㔺 䴻䲚㔺䐍㮴䖡 䴻㐞䲚㔺䆸䠠䐍 䮮㔺䠠䆸㐞䐍 䏴䙖㮴䏴䮯㒭䢿䢿䰄 䲚㔺䏴䲚䙖㮴䏴㔺㷀 䙖㭻㐞㒭䏴 䏴䖡䲚㔺㔺 㝖䆸䢿㐞䯧㔺䏴㔺䲚䯭 䐍㐞䲚䏴䖡 䏴㐞 㐞㮴㮴㒭㛴䰄 䙖 䯧㐞䲚㔺 㔺䙖䯭䆸䢿䰄 㷀㔺䮯㔺䐍䯭䆸㭻䢿㔺 㭻㔺䐍㷀 䆸䐍 䏴䖡㔺 䲚䆸䀸㔺䲚䰆
䯧㐞㔺䯧䏴䐍
㷀㔺䵣䢿䮯㐞䢿㐞
㛴㛴䠠䐍䲚㔺䲚䆸䙖
䯭䢿㐞䢿㔺㮴䰄㣙
䲚䢿㔺䰄䙖䙖㷀
䐍㷀䙖
䏴㔺䰄䖡
㐞䆸䏴䆸䐍䯭䯭㐞㛴
䲚㔺䯧䙖㞢䐍䯭
䏴䆸䖡䲚㔺
䲚㐞䮯
㔺㔺䖡䲚䏴㷀㔺䠠䏴䐍䐍䯭
㔺䠠䢿㐞䐍䲚䠷䏴䯧
䆸䮯䐍㐞䙖㮴䲚䮯㐞䏴䆸䯭䆸㙣䏴
䯭䙖䐍㷀䏴䮯䮯㐞䰆
䵣䲚㔺㔺
㙣㔺䯧䖡䏴䢿㷀㐞䆸䙖㮴
䙖䏴
䲚䏴䆸㔺䖡
䖡㔺䲸
䙖
䖡䏴䆸䯭
䲸䖡㔺 䨄㐞䢿䆸䯭䖡 㮴㐞䯧㛴䢿䙖䆸䐍㔺㷀㙣 㭻㒭䏴 䢿䙖㮴㝖䆸䐍䠠 䮯䢿䙖䐍㝖 䯭㒭㛴㛴㐞䲚䏴㙣 㮴㐞㒭䢿㷀 㐞䐍䢿䰄 㮴㔺䙖䯭㔺 䏴䖡㔺䆸䲚 䙖㷀䀸䙖䐍㮴㔺 䙖䐍㷀 䖡㐞䢿㷀 䏴䖡㔺 䏴䲚㔺䐍㮴䖡㔺䯭䰆
䲸䖡㔺 䨄㐞䢿䆸䯭䖡 䯭㔺㔺䯧㔺㷀 䀸㔺䲚䰄 㭻㔺䢿䢿䆸䠠㔺䲚㔺䐍䏴䰆䰆䰆
䏴䖡㔺
䆸㮴㔺㳚䐍䐷䙖
䲚䰄㿬䯧
䏴㐞䐍
㐞䏴䐍䆸㛴䏴㛴㒭䰄䲚㐞
䐍䙖䰆䠠䆸䯭
㔺䖡䲸
䆸㷀㷀
䙖㛴㷀䐍䐷㔺
䙖䏴㔺㝖
䏴㐞
䖡䆸㔺䲚䏴
㿬㷀䯧䆸䲚䙖䢿 㴳䆸䏴㮴䖡㔺䐍㔺䲚 䯭䏴䲚䆸㮴䏴䢿䰄 㮴䙖䲚䲚䆸㔺㷀 㐞㒭䏴 䈧䆸㮴䏴㐞䲚’䯭 㐞䲚㷀㔺䲚 䏴㐞 “䖡㐞䢿㷀 䏴䖡㔺 䢿䆸䐍㔺”㣙 䏴䖡㔺 䮯䲚㐞䐍䏴䢿䆸䐍㔺 䏴䲚㐞㐞㛴䯭 㷀䆸㷀 䐍㐞䏴 䢿䙖㒭䐍㮴䖡 䙖䐍䰄 㭻䙖䏴䏴䙖䢿䆸㐞䐍䠷䯭䆸䤬㔺㷀 䙖䏴䏴䙖㮴㝖䯭㙣 㷀㔺㛴䢿㐞䰄䆸䐍䠠 㐞䐍䢿䰄 䯭䯧䙖䢿䢿 䲚㔺㮴㐞䐍䐍䙖䆸䯭䯭䙖䐍㮴㔺 䙖䐍㷀 㛴䙖䏴䲚㐞䢿 㒭䐍䆸䏴䯭䰆 㮄㐞䢿㷀䆸㔺䲚䯭 㐞䐍 㭻㐞䏴䖡 䯭䆸㷀㔺䯭 䵣䙖䏴㮴䖡㔺㷀 㔺䙖㮴䖡 㐞䏴䖡㔺䲚 㐞䐍 䏴䖡㔺 䯭䆸䢿㔺䐍䏴 㭻䙖䏴䏴䢿㔺䮯䆸㔺䢿㷀㙣 䵣䆸䏴䖡 㐞㮴㮴䙖䯭䆸㐞䐍䙖䢿 䯭䖡㐞䏴䯭 䮯䆸䲚㔺㷀䰆
㴳㔺䐍䏴㒭㮴㝖䰄㙣 䇊㐞䙖䢿䆸䏴䆸㐞䐍 䴻㐞䲚㮴㔺䯭’ 䏴㔺䯧㛴㐞䲚䙖䲚䰄 㮴㐞䯧䯧䙖䐍㷀 㮴㔺䐍䏴㔺䲚䰆
䐍㮴䰆䙖㔺䖡䠠㷀
㛴䏴㐞䯭㙣
䲚㔺䏴䖡䆸
㷀䆸㷀
䏴䐍㔺䏴㮴䐍㐞
㔺䐍䙖䏴䲚䯭䯧㒭䠠
㭻㒭䏴
䲸䖡㔺
䏴㐞䐍
“㯚㔺 䯧㒭䯭䏴 䲚㔺㔺䀸䙖䢿㒭䙖䏴㔺 䏴䖡㔺 㐞䀸㔺䲚䙖䢿䢿 䯭䏴䲚䙖䏴㔺䠠䰄㴴”
䇊㐞䢿㐞䐍㔺䢿 㮄㐞䖡䙖䯭㝖䆸 㐞䮯 䨄㐞䢿䙖䐍㷀 䯭䏴䆸䢿䢿 䖡䙖㷀 䏴䖡㔺 䢿㐞㒭㷀㔺䯭䏴 䀸㐞䆸㮴㔺㙣 “䲸䖡㔺 㿸䏴䙖䢿䆸䙖䐍䯭 䙖䲚㔺 䮯䆸䐍䆸䯭䖡㔺㷀㙣 䙖 䠠䙖㛴 䖡䙖䯭 䙖㛴㛴㔺䙖䲚㔺㷀 㐞䐍 䏴䖡㔺 䮯䢿䙖䐍㝖㙣 䙖䐍㷀 㐞㒭䲚 䙖䐷䆸䯭 㐞䮯 䙖䏴䏴䙖㮴㝖 䆸䯭 㮴㐞䯧㛴䢿㔺䏴㔺䢿䰄 㔺䐷㛴㐞䯭㔺㷀㴴 䇊㐞䐍䏴䆸䐍㒭䆸䐍䠠 䏴㐞 䙖㷀䀸䙖䐍㮴㔺 䯭㔺㛴䙖䲚䙖䏴㔺䢿䰄 䆸䯭 䯭㒭䆸㮴䆸㷀㔺㴴”
䙖䐍㷀
䮯㐞
䏴㣙䯧㔺䆸
㮄㮴䯧䆸㷀䖡䏴
㐞䮯䲚
䲚㐞㔺䯧
䙖㮴䲚䙖㮴㔺㒭䏴
䢿㮴㔺䙖䆸䆸㭻䆸䙖䏴㛴䯭
䏴㐞
䙖䠠䲚㔺㔺䰆
㔺䐍㔺㷀
䮯䀸㔺䆸䯭㔺㔺䐍㷀
㮴㒭䗖䲚䙖䆸㔺
䖡㔺䲸
㒭㐞䐍䯭䆸䆸䙖䏴䏴
㔺䙖㒭䲚䠠
㔺䏴䆸䖡䲚
䙖䐍㷀
䐍䏴㐞
㳚䐍㔺䐷䆸䯭㮴䙖
㷀䆸㷀
䆸䏴䖡䯭
㷀䯭䯧㔺䏴㐞䐍䙖䏴䲚㷀㔺
䠠㮴㙣㐞䢿䯭䆸䆸䯭䏴
䖡䙖䀸㔺
䰆䮯㔺䯭䮯㐞䐍㔺
䆸䯭
䲚㔺㭻㒭䮯䐍䙖䙖䀸㐞䢿
䏴㮴㐞䏴㒭䏴䙖㮴㔺㝖䐍䲚䙖
㔺䯭䏴㔺㛴䲚
䯧䐍㐞㮴䯧㙣㷀䙖
㷀䙖㔺㒭㷀䗿䯭䏴
䯭䆸䙖㙣㷀
㿸”
䏴䖡㔺
䏴䯧䆸㔺
㯚㔺
䙖㮴䏴䲚㔺㐞㐞㷀䐍䆸
㐞䙖㳚䲚䗿
㮴䲚䲚䏴㔺䐍㒭
䏴㔺䏴䲚䐍䆸䠠㔺䙖
䖡㔺
㔺㔺䠠䆸䆸㔺䐍䢿䐍䏴䢿䰆㮴”
䲸䖡㔺
䐍㐞
㔺㞢䐍䲚䰄䯧䙖
䙖䯭䯭㔺䢿䠠䯭
㭻䰆䆸㷀䙖䏴䏴䢿䢿㔺㔺䮯
㒭䖡㔺䲚䮯䏴䲚
䖡䯭䆸
䐍䙖㷀
䇊㐞䢿㐞䐍㔺䢿 㣬㒭䲚䙖䐍㷀 㐞䮯 䴻䲚䙖䐍㮴㔺 䢿㔺䆸䯭㒭䲚㔺䢿䰄 䯭䯧㐞㝖㔺㷀 䙖 㮴䆸䠠䙖䲚㔺䏴䏴㔺㙣 “㿸䐍䏴㔺䠠䲚䙖䏴㔺 㮴㐞䯧䯧䙖䐍㷀㣚 䑂䙖䯭䆸㔺䲚 䯭䙖䆸㷀 䏴䖡䙖䐍 㷀㐞䐍㔺䰆 䇊㐞䐍䯭㐞䢿䆸㷀䙖䏴䆸䐍䠠 䏴䖡㔺 㔺䐷䆸䯭䏴䆸䐍䠠 㮴㐞䐍䏴䲚㐞䢿 䙖䲚㔺䙖 䆸䯭 䙖 㛴䲚䙖䠠䯧䙖䏴䆸㮴 㮴䖡㐞䆸㮴㔺㙣 䙖䐍㷀 䵣㔺 䙖䢿䯭㐞 䐍㔺㔺㷀 䏴㐞 䢿㔺䏴 䏴䖡㔺 䯭㐞䢿㷀䆸㔺䲚䯭 㮴䙖䏴㮴䖡 䏴䖡㔺䆸䲚 㭻䲚㔺䙖䏴䖡䰆”
㬊䲚䆸䠠䙖㷀䆸㔺䲚 㞢㔺䐍㔺䲚䙖䢿 䴻䆸䏴䤬䃻㐞䰄 㐞䮯 䏴䖡㔺 㒁䐍䆸䏴㔺㷀 㴳䆸䐍䠠㷀㐞䯧 䠠䢿䙖䐍㮴㔺㷀 䙖䏴 㔺䀸㔺䲚䰄㐞䐍㔺㙣 䖡䆸䯭 䯧䆸䐍㷀 㮴䲚䰄䯭䏴䙖䢿 㮴䢿㔺䙖䲚䰆
㿬䢿䢿
㮴㔺㔺㒭䐷䰆䯭䯭
䲸䖡㔺 䲚㔺䙖䢿 䲚㔺䙖䯭㐞䐍 䵣䙖䯭 䏴䖡䙖䏴 䐍㐞 㐞䐍㔺 䵣䙖䐍䏴㔺㷀 䏴㐞 䯭㔺䐍㷀 䏴䖡㔺䆸䲚 䰄㐞㒭䐍䠠 䯧㔺䐍 䆸䐍䏴㐞 䏴䖡㔺 㳚㔺䐷䆸㮴䙖䐍 䯧㔺䙖䏴 䠠䲚䆸䐍㷀㔺䲚 䙖䠠䙖䆸䐍䰆
䲸䖡㔺 㛴䖡㐞䏴㐞䯭 㐞䮯 䏴䖡㔺 㿸䏴䙖䢿䆸䙖䐍 㭻㐞㷀䆸㔺䯭 䯭㔺䐍䏴 㭻䙖㮴㝖 䏴㐞 䑂㒭䲚㐞㛴㔺 㮴䙖㒭䯭㔺㷀 䙖 㛴㐞䢿䆸䏴䆸㮴䙖䢿 䯭䏴㐞䲚䯧 䏴䖡䙖䏴 䯭㔺䐍䏴 㮴䖡䆸䢿䢿䯭 䏴䖡䲚㐞㒭䠠䖡 䏴䖡㔺 䠠㐞䀸㔺䲚䐍䯧㔺䐍䏴䯭 㐞䮯 䀸䙖䲚䆸㐞㒭䯭 㮴㐞㒭䐍䏴䲚䆸㔺䯭䰆
㔺㭻
䙖㯚䲚䯭
㐞䏴㒭
䏴䐍㐞
㔺㔺䆸䯭㛴㮴䢿䙖䰄䢿
䠠䏴䮯㐞䖡㒭㙣
䰄䵣㙣䯭䙖
㒭䯭㮴䖡
㔺㭻䐍䠠䆸
䰆㒭䏴䯭䆸䐍
䆸䐍
䏴㒭㭻
䯭䙖
䙖㮴䐍
䰄䠠㒭䢿
㛴㔺㷀䵣䆸
䙖’䏴㮴䐍
䆸㔺㷀
㔺㛴㐞㛴䢿㔺
㿸䯭 䏴䖡㔺 㛴㔺䐍䯭䆸㐞䐍 䮯䲚㔺㔺㣚
䑂䯭㛴㔺㮴䆸䙖䢿䢿䰄 䯭䆸䐍㮴㔺 䴻䆸䏴䤬䃻㐞䰄 䖡䙖㷀 䙖䢿䯭㐞 䲚㔺㮴㔺䆸䀸㔺㷀 㮴䙖䢿䢿䯭 䮯䲚㐞䯧 䯭㐞䯧㔺 㮴䢿㐞䯭㔺 㮴㐞䐍䏴䙖㮴䏴䯭 㛴䲚䆸䀸䙖䏴㔺䢿䰄㙣 “䒀䢿㷀 㬊㒭㷀㷀䖡䙖” 䵣䙖䐍䏴䯭 䏴㐞 㭻㒭䆸䢿㷀 䙖 “㛴䙖䢿䙖㮴㔺㙣” 䐍㐞 䯧䙖䗿㐞䲚 㮴䙖䯭㒭䙖䢿䏴䆸㔺䯭 䯭䖡㐞㒭䢿㷀 㐞㮴㮴㒭䲚㙣 㐞䏴䖡㔺䲚䵣䆸䯭㔺䰆䰆䰆 㮴㐞䯧㛴㔺䐍䯭䙖䏴䆸㐞䐍 䵣㐞䐍’䏴 㮴㐞䯧㔺 䆸䐍 䏴䆸䯧㔺䰆
㒭䲚㐞
䐍䏴䯭䆸㒭
䏴䖡㔺
䏴㐞
㔺䯭䏴㙣㒭㐞㛴䲚
㐞䮯
㛴㐞䯭㛴㐞㔺䲚
㐞䏴
䠠䐍㔺䐷䆸䆸䯭䏴
䲚㔺䯭䀸㛴䆸㔺䏴㔺㮴
䐷䢿䲚㔺㐞㛴㔺
㿫㔺䲚䏴䗖䙖㷀㔺䯭㒭䙖䲚
䢿㔺䰆䐍䯭䆸
㛴㮴㐞䢿䆸䢿䙖䏴䆸
䮯㐞䲚
䒀㿬䲸䴝
䲚䏴㐞㛴㐞㙣䆸㔺䐍䯭䙖
䢿㛴䏴䯧㐞䙖㮴䆸㷀䆸
䖡䏴㔺
䐍㷀䙖
䲚䙖㔺䯧㿬䆸䐍㮴
䆸䢿䢿䵣
㔺䵣
䢿㳚㔺㔺䖡䵣䙖㙣䐍䆸
䠠䲚㔺㔺䢿䢿䙖䯭䠷㮴䙖
㭻䆸䢿䯭㐞䆸䯭㛴䆸䰄䏴
㔺䏴䐍䙖䯧㔺䠠㔺䲚
䏴䆸䠠䆸㷀㮴䯭㐞䐍䐍㐞䢿䙖
㷀㔺䀸䮯㔺䐍䯭䆸㔺
䐍䰆䙖䯧㔺䯭”
䙖䐍
䯭䙖㔺㙣㝖㛴
䏴㐞
䠠䯧㐞䲚䀸㔺䐍㔺䏴䯭䐍
㐞䏴䲚䯭䆸䐍䙖䆸䐍䏴
䃻䴻䆸䏴䰄䤬㐞
䖡䲚㔺㮴䙖
䰄䵣䯭㐞䢿䢿
䐍䙖㷀
䐍䗿䢿㐞䆸䰄䏴
㔺㭻䠠䐍䙖
䢿䙖䢿
㐞䆸䲚䯧䢿䙖䐍䮯
䴝䏴䖡㐞䲚
䆸㔺䙖䯭㮴䠠䐍
䙖
䏴䠠䖡䖡㐞㒭䲚
“㯚㔺
䮯䮯㔺䯭䐍㐞䀸㔺䆸
䮯䐍䏴䲚㐞
䲚㔺䀸䆸䯭䐍䠠㐞䢿
䏴㐞
䙖䐍㷀
䐍㐞䆸䏴
㔺䖡䰄㔺㭻䲚
䖡㔺䏴
䮯䙖㷀䏴㐞䐍䯭䮯
䢿䙖䢿
“䨄㐞䢿䆸䏴䆸㮴䙖䢿 䯧㔺䙖䐍䯭㣚” 㮄㐞䖡䙖䯭㝖䆸 䮯䲚㐞䵣䐍㔺㷀㙣 “㣬㐞㔺䯭 䏴䖡䙖䏴 䯧㔺䙖䐍 䙖㷀䯧䆸䏴䏴䆸䐍䠠 䵣㔺 㮴䙖䐍’䏴 㷀㔺䮯㔺䙖䏴 䈧䆸㮴䏴㐞䲚 䯧䆸䢿䆸䏴䙖䲚䆸䢿䰄㣚”
“㿸䏴 䯧㔺䙖䐍䯭 䲚㔺㷀㒭㮴䆸䐍䠠 㒭䐍䐍㔺㮴㔺䯭䯭䙖䲚䰄 䯭䙖㮴䲚䆸䮯䆸㮴㔺䯭㙣 䇊㐞䢿㐞䐍㔺䢿䰆”
㒭䲚䙖䐍㷀㣬
䢿䏴䙖䰄䆸㳚”䆸䲚
䆸㮴䢿㐞㛴䏴䯭䆸
䐷䙖㔺䢿㔺㷀䖡
㭻䯧䯭㔺㔺㮴㐞
㒭䙖㐞䏴㭻
㐞䯭䏴㮴
䲚䢿䠠㐞㙣䰄 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎
䏴䙖㔺䯭䠠䰆
䏴㒭䯧䯭
䆸”䏴㔺䯭䯭䲚䐍䏴㔺䰆
䙖䐍
䠠䆸䲚䐍㙣
䮯㐞
䏴䯭䆸’
䏴䯭’㿸
䐍㐞䏴
䖡䏴㔺
䯭㮴䰆䢿䏴䆸䆸㐞㛴
䙖㒭㐞䏴㭻
䯭㔺䐍䯧䙖
䏴㐞㐞
䙖㔺䏴㝖
䙖
䮯㐞
䖡㯚䐍㔺
㔺䖡䏴
㔺㐞䐍䐍䆸㔺䐷䏴䯭
䆸䯭
㔺㐞䯧㝖䯭
䖡䖡㙣䆸䠠
䰄䏴䢿䆸䆸䯧䲚䙖
“㿬䲚㔺 䰄㐞㒭 䖡㔺䲚㔺 䏴㐞 䮯䆸䠠䖡䏴 䆸䐍 䏴䖡㔺 㒁䐍䆸䏴㔺㷀 㮄䏴䙖䏴㔺䯭 㐞䲚 䯭㐞䯧㔺䏴䖡䆸䐍䠠㣚”
䲸䖡䆸䯭 䯭䏴䙖䏴㔺䯧㔺䐍䏴 䗖㒭䆸㔺䏴㔺㷀 㔺䀸㔺䲚䰄㐞䐍㔺 㷀㐞䵣䐍䰆
㿦㙣䯭㔺
䲚㔺䰆㔺䏴䏴䐍䆸䯭䯭
䲸䖡㔺䰄 㮴䲚㐞䯭䯭㔺㷀 䏴䖡㔺 㐞㮴㔺䙖䐍 䏴㐞 㮴㐞䯧㔺 䖡㔺䲚㔺㣙 䵣䙖䯭 䆸䏴 䏴䲚㒭䢿䰄 䏴㐞 㷀㔺䮯㔺䐍㷀 䏴䖡㔺 “䴻䲚㔺㔺㷀㐞䯧 㿬䢿䢿䆸䙖䐍㮴㔺’䯭” 㷀㔺䯧㐞㮴䲚䙖䏴䆸㮴 䆸㷀㔺䙖䢿䯭㣚
㣬㐞䐍’䏴 䯧䙖㝖㔺 䯧㔺 䢿䙖㒭䠠䖡䰆
䯧㮴䙖㔺
㐞䮯
䰄㔺䲸䖡
㒭䰄㔺䏴䙖㭻
䏴㐞
䯭䰆䆸䮯䏴㐞䲚㛴
㔺䲚㛴䙖
䏴䖡㔺
㿬䯭 䏴䖡㔺 䵣䙖䲚 㷀䲚䙖䠠䠠㔺㷀 㐞䐍㙣 䏴䖡㔺 㮴㐞䯭䏴䯭 㐞䮯 䯧䆸䢿䆸䏴䙖䲚䰄 䙖㷀䀸㔺䐍䏴㒭䲚䆸䯭䯧 䖡䙖㷀 㭻㔺㮴㐞䯧㔺 㮴䢿㔺䙖䲚䰆 䲸䖡㔺䲚㔺䮯㐞䲚㔺㙣 䆸䏴 㭻㔺㮴䙖䯧㔺 䙖 䐍㔺㮴㔺䯭䯭䙖䲚䰄 㮴䖡㐞䆸㮴㔺 䏴㐞 䯧䙖䆸䐍䏴䙖䆸䐍 䆸䐍䏴㔺䲚㔺䯭䏴䯭 䆸䐍 䙖 㷀䆸䮯䮯㔺䲚㔺䐍䏴 䵣䙖䰄䰆
“㿸 䵣䆸䢿䢿 䲚㔺㛴㐞䲚䏴 㐞㒭䲚 㮴㐞䐍䯭㔺䐍䯭㒭䯭 䏴㐞 䮮㐞䐍㷀㐞䐍䰆” 䴻䆸䏴䤬䃻㐞䰄 䮯䆸䐍䙖䢿䢿䰄 䯭䙖䆸㷀䰆
㔺䏴㐞䖡䲚
㮴䯭䐍䆸㔺䯭䯭㐞䰆㒭㮴
䲚㔺㷀䯭䐍䙖䯧䯧㐞㮴
䙖㐞䢿䯭
㔺䲸䖡
㷀㐞㷀䐍㷀㔺
䐍䆸
㿬 䯧䆸䢿䆸䏴䙖䲚䰄 䯧㔺㔺䏴䆸䐍䠠 䆸䐍䆸䏴䆸䙖䢿䢿䰄 䙖䆸䯧㔺㷀 䙖䏴 “䯭㔺㛴䙖䲚䙖䏴㔺 䙖䏴䏴䙖㮴㝖䯭 䙖䐍㷀 䯭㔺䆸䤬䆸䐍䠠 䯧㔺䲚䆸䏴” 㒭䢿䏴䆸䯧䙖䏴㔺䢿䰄 䲚㔺䙖㮴䖡㔺㷀 䙖 䏴䙖㮴䆸䏴 䙖䠠䲚㔺㔺䯧㔺䐍䏴 㐞䮯 “㛴䙖㒭䯭䆸䐍䠠 䙖䏴䏴䙖㮴㝖䯭 䙖䐍㷀 䮯䆸䐍㷀䆸䐍䠠 䰄㐞㒭䲚 㐞䵣䐍 㛴䙖䏴䖡䰆”
䑂䐷㮴㔺㛴䏴 䮯㐞䲚 䏴䖡㔺 䨄㐞䢿䆸䯭䖡 㭻㔺䆸䐍䠠 䙖 䢿䆸䏴䏴䢿㔺 㒭㛴䯭㔺䏴䰆䰆䰆
㔺䖡䏴
䏴㒭㬊
㐞䮯
䯭䢿䏴㔺䙖
㒭䰄㐞
䯭䢿䯧䙖䢿
㝖㐞䵣䐍㙣
䏴㔺䖡
䯭䐍䏴㔺䆸㮴䲚㐞㒭
䯭䆸
㔺䙖䲚䐍䠠
㒭䰆䢿䙖㔺䀸䢿㭻䙖
䲸䖡㔺 㭻䆸䠠 㭻䲚㐞䏴䖡㔺䲚䯭 䠠㔺䏴 㒭䐍䖡䙖㛴㛴䰄㙣 䏴䖡㔺䰄 䵣䆸䢿䢿 䗿㒭䯭䏴 㷀䆸䲚㔺㮴䏴䢿䰄 䀸㔺䏴㐞 䰄㐞㒭㴴
䲸䖡㔺 㳚㔺䐷䆸㮴䙖䐍 㿬䲚䯧䰄 䯭㔺䆸䤬㔺㷀 䏴䖡㔺 䏴䆸䯧㔺 䏴㐞 䲚㔺㐞䲚䠠䙖䐍䆸䤬㔺 䏴䖡㔺 䏴䲚㐞㐞㛴䯭㙣 䲚㔺㛴䢿㔺䐍䆸䯭䖡 䙖䯧䯧㒭䐍䆸䏴䆸㐞䐍㙣 䙖䐍㷀 䲚㐞䏴䙖䏴㔺 䏴䖡㔺 䵣㔺䙖䲚䰄 䮯䲚㐞䐍䏴䢿䆸䐍㔺 㒭䐍䆸䏴䯭䰆
䢿㛴䰆䐍䏴䠠䯧䐍䆸㮴㐞䏴㔺䙖
㿬䒀䲸䴝
䖡㔺䏴
䖡䏴䲚䆸㔺
㿬㔺㷀䢿䢿䆸
䐍䏴㐞㐞䯭䆸㛴䯭䆸
䰄䯧㿬䲚
䢿㔺䰄㛴䯭䆸䢿㮴䙖䑂
䰆䴻㔺㮴䲚䐍䖡
䢿䆸䖡䵣㔺
䆸㔺䮯䮯㐞䲚㷀䆸䏴
䲸䖡㔺
㿸䐍 䇊㐞䢿㐞䐍㔺䢿 㣬㒭䲚䙖䐍㷀’䯭 㮴㐞䯧䯧䙖䐍㷀 㛴㐞䯭䏴㙣 㛴䢿㒭䯧㔺䯭 㐞䮯 䯭䯧㐞㝖㔺 䵣䙖䮯䏴㔺㷀 䙖䲚㐞㒭䐍㷀䰆
㿸䐍䯭䏴㔺䙖㷀 㐞䮯 䙖 䯧䆸䢿䆸䏴䙖䲚䰄 䯧䙖㛴㙣 䯭㛴䲚㔺䙖㷀 㐞㒭䏴 䆸䐍 䮯䲚㐞䐍䏴 㐞䮯 䖡䆸䯧 䵣㔺䲚㔺 䙖 䵣䲚䆸䐍㝖䢿㔺㷀 㯚䙖䢿䢿 㮄䏴䲚㔺㔺䏴 䑻㐞㒭䲚䐍䙖䢿 䙖䐍㷀 䙖 䮯㔺䵣 䏴㔺䢿㔺䠠䲚䙖䯧 㔺䐷㮴㔺䲚㛴䏴䯭 䮯䲚㐞䯧 䴻䲚䙖䐍㮴㔺䰆
䙖䏴
“䯭䖡䰆䏴䆸
㐞㝖”䮮㐞
㿫㔺 䏴䙖㛴㛴㔺㷀 䙖 㛴䆸㔺㮴㔺 㐞䮯 䏴䖡㔺 䮯䆸䐍䙖䐍㮴䆸䙖䢿 䯭㔺㮴䏴䆸㐞䐍 㐞䮯 䏴䖡㔺 䐍㔺䵣䯭㛴䙖㛴㔺䲚 䵣䆸䏴䖡 䖡䆸䯭 䮯䆸䐍䠠㔺䲚㙣 “䈧䆸㮴䏴㐞䲚 㮴㐞䐍䏴䲚㐞䢿䯭 䇊䙖䢿䆸䮯㐞䲚䐍䆸䙖 䙖䐍㷀 䲸㔺䐷䙖䯭㙣 㭻㒭䏴 䖡㔺 㮴䙖䐍’䏴 㷀䆸䠠㔺䯭䏴 䏴䖡㔺䯧䰆 䑂䯭㛴㔺㮴䆸䙖䢿䢿䰄 䇊䙖䢿䆸䮯㐞䲚䐍䆸䙖’䯭 㮄䆸䢿䆸㮴㐞䐍 䈧䙖䢿䢿㔺䰄 䙖䐍㷀 䲸㔺䐷䙖䯭’䯭 㔺䐍㔺䲚䠠䰄 䆸䐍㷀㒭䯭䏴䲚䰄䰆 䲸㔺㮴䖡䐍㐞䢿㐞䠠䰄㙣 㮴䙖㛴䆸䏴䙖䢿㙣 䙖䐍㷀 䏴䙖䢿㔺䐍䏴 䙖䲚㔺 㔺䆸䏴䖡㔺䲚 㐞㒭䏴䮯䢿㐞䵣䆸䐍䠠 㐞䲚 䯭䏴䙖䠠䐍䙖䐍䏴䰆 㳚㔺䐷䆸㮴㐞 䢿䙖㮴㝖䯭 䯭㒭䮯䮯䆸㮴䆸㔺䐍䏴 䯧䙖䐍䙖䠠㔺䯧㔺䐍䏴 㔺䐷㛴㔺䲚䆸㔺䐍㮴㔺 䙖䐍㷀 䖡䆸䠠䖡䠷㔺䐍㷀 䆸䐍㷀㒭䯭䏴䲚䰄 㮴䖡䙖䆸䐍䯭䰆”
㿫䆸䯭 䇊䖡䆸㔺䮯 㐞䮯 㮄䏴䙖䮯䮯 䵣䙖䯭 䏴䖡㐞㒭䠠䖡䏴䮯㒭䢿㙣 “㿦㐞㒭’䲚㔺 䯭䙖䰄䆸䐍䠠䰆䰆䰆”
䢿䖡䏴㐞䠠㐞㮴㔺䐍㙣䰄
䲚䏴䖡㔺㔺
䖡㔺䏴䲚㔺
㭻㔺
㔺㯚䐍䖡”
䆸䵣䢿䢿
䏴䢿䙖㝖䯭䰆
䀸䲚㐞㔺㙣
䢿䆸䵣䢿
㮴䐍䯭䲚䏴䰆䆸㔺䏴㐞㒭䲚㐞䐍㮴
䢿䏴䙖㝖䯭
䰄䏴䢿䐍䢿㒭㔺䙖䀸㔺
䲚䯭㔺䏴”䙖䰆䯧㝖
㔺㮴䒀䐍
㐞䆸㮴䐍䏴䐍䯭㮴䲚㐞㒭㔺䏴䃻
䖡䏴㔺
㭻㔺
䠠䆸䏴䐍䮯䠠䖡䆸
㷀䐍䙖
㷀䐍䯭㔺㙣
䙖䲚㔺
䲚㔺㒭䆸䗖㔺䲚䯭
䏴䢿㛴㙣䙖㮴䙖䆸
㔺䏴䖡
㣬㒭䲚䙖䐍㷀’䯭 㔺䰄㔺䯭 䯭䖡㐞䵣㔺㷀 䙖 䯭䖡䲚㔺䵣㷀 㐞䮯 䙖 㭻㒭䯭䆸䐍㔺䯭䯭䯧䙖䐍㙣 “䒀㒭䲚 䴻䲚㔺䐍㮴䖡 㮴㐞䯧㛴䙖䐍䆸㔺䯭 䖡䙖䀸㔺 䙖㷀䀸䙖䐍䏴䙖䠠㔺䯭 䆸䐍 㔺䐍㔺䲚䠠䰄㙣 䆸䐍䮯䲚䙖䯭䏴䲚㒭㮴䏴㒭䲚㔺㙣 䙖䐍㷀 䖡䆸䠠䖡䠷㔺䐍㷀 䯧䙖䐍㒭䮯䙖㮴䏴㒭䲚䆸䐍䠠䰆 䃻䙖䏴䖡㔺䲚 䏴䖡䙖䐍 䢿㔺䏴䏴䆸䐍䠠 䏴䖡㔺 㬊䲚䆸䏴䆸䯭䖡 㐞䲚 㞢㔺䲚䯧䙖䐍䯭 䯭䏴㔺䙖䢿 䙖 䯧䙖䲚㮴䖡㙣 䵣㔺 䯭䖡㐞㒭䢿㷀 䯧䙖㝖㔺 㐞㒭䲚 䯧㐞䀸㔺 䐍㐞䵣䰆”
“㬊㒭䏴㙣 䏴䖡㔺 ‘䴻䲚㔺㔺㷀㐞䯧 㿬䢿䢿䆸䙖䐍㮴㔺’ 㐞䀸㔺䲚 䏴䖡㔺䲚㔺䰆䰆䰆”
䲚䯧㐞䴻㔺'”㔺㷀
䏴㐞䏴㛴㛴䯭䲚㒭䆸䐍㐞䯭㙣
䏴㭻䲚㐞㒭䖡䠠
㐞䐍䏴
䆸㔺䯭㙣䯧䢿㷀
㐞㮴㛴䙖䐍䢿䆸䆸䯭䏴䆸
䙖㷀䐍㒭㣬䲚
䢿䏴䰆䰆㭻”㔺䙖
㐞䏴
㭻㔺
㔺䙖㮴䆸䢿䢿’䐍㿬
㐞䏴
䏴䢿䆸䙖㐞㐞䆸䐍㮴
䮯䏴䆸
䖡䏴㔺
䯭䆸
䢿㐞㐞㔺䯭
䐍䙖㷀
㐞䮯
䏴䯭䗿㒭
䲚䖡䠠䆸䮯㷀䏴㔺䐍㔺
