Capítulo 1407: Chapter 1407: Conscription?
As everyone was deeply engrossed in thoughts about the Goddess Sect and the Dark Moon War, Bingdisi suddenly brought up a topic that seed unrelated: “Hey, what do you all think about Foolish Big Guy?”
“Foolish Big Guy?” I was montarily confused and then casually replied, “A rather naive fellow, perhaps a bit mutated compared to the locals, rough-skinned, but his temperant kind of suits .”
“Is that all?” Bingdisi’s eyes turned slightly, a flash of insight gleaming in the blood-red irises, “I suddenly find myself quite curious about him.”
I knew Bingdisi wasn’t the type to… wasn’t the type to speak without… wasn’t the type to randomly… alright, she indeed had that kind of personality, but she shouldn’t be saying random stuff now, so I felt compelled to follow up: “You’re not suggesting that big guy is connected to conspiracy theories, are you? Or did you sense sothing related to Divine Artifact in him?”
“Not Divine Artifact, but a detail,” Bingdisi reminded everyone, “Do you still recall when we were playing billiards just now, how he managed to pierce the cue ball with a wooden stick? Didn’t you find sothing odd about that?”
I thought it was sothing trivial, but upon hearing this, I shrugged: “Sure, strong enough. You should let Lin give it a try, forget billiards, she could poke a hole in the Earth with just one finger. Foolish Big Guy can kill a bear with a punch, let alone break a plastic ball.”
“Sheer brute force can indeed accomplish many things,” Bingdisi said with a profound smile, “but not everything can be attributed to brute force alone. The billiards set Lin Xue brought was from Earth, with the cue being a thin wooden stick. If you only have strength, could you make this blunt thin wooden stick pierce a slippery, hard round ball? Moreover, the most significant part is: when the cue ball was pierced, it hardly moved any distance—it was instantly punctured by a thin wooden stick, with not a single bit of impact wasted.”
I got it, it’s like if you were asked to chop a half-centiter thick thin board with your hand, that’s doable for most healthy adults—it might just get your hand to hurt a bit afterwards. But what if I placed a block of tofu under this thin board?
What if you were asked to chop the thin board without allowing any cracks or deformation in the tofu underneath?
What if I asked you to chop the board without making a sound, and not leaving a single burr on the broken stubble of the board?
I’m sure with all these requests laid out, you would want to chop instead of the board—but let’s not discuss that now. What we’re discussing is: if soone could do all this effortlessly and unknowingly, they’d at least need years of learning from those white-bearded masters at the bottom of a cliff…
Truthfully, puncturing a plastic ball with a tiny branch under similar conditions wouldn’t be a challenge for any of us. I bet even the dumb fox back ho could poke through any ordinary material with noodles: and those noodles could even be cooked. But the focus is: Foolish Big Guy did it! An idiot who theoretically hadn’t learned any Control Techniques other than his brute force managed it!
“By ordinary human standards, you could achieve the sa feat, but it would require years of training and precise control over the power. Foolish Big Guy’s strength is hundreds of tis that of ordinary people, making his required training all the more astounding,” Bingdisi spoke slowly, “and even if he did pull it off, there would be two scenarios. One is the laborious, flushed face kind where you take fifteen minutes to successfully poke sothing. The other is effortlessly done, with extre control and power at a muscle-mory level. Foolish Big Guy belongs to the latter.”
I thought about it and felt a bit confused: “He accidentally pierced the ball, so he probably spends quite a lot on bowls, and this kind of person could easily disassemble themselves when stretching…”
Bingdisi stared at angrily: “You’re not helping by jabbering.” Then she calmly analyzed, “Big Guy should be encountering this matter for the first ti and unconsciously used so techniques out of tension, which also indirectly proves he doesn’t know what kind of ‘skill’ he possesses, because a regular fighter surely wouldn’t do a Rising Dragon while handling a gas cylinder: Foolish Big Guy’s move was akin to unconsciously doing a Rising Dragon Punch while throwing a gas cylinder onto his shoulder; unintentional move, yet the style itself was skilled.”
Qianqian, who was beside us, rolled her eyes as she thought about it for a while, suddenly leaned forward with excitent: “Hey, do you all think this could be the case? Foolish Big Guy is really a legendary master with unparalleled martial arts skills, and used to have a wife who journeyed across the world with him, with their relationship being incredibly deep. His wife excelled at the Eight Diagrams Dragon Palm, while Foolish Big Guy was adept at stabbing the vita points with chopsticks. Then one day, enemies ca for revenge, and his wife died heroically fighting them off. After driving the enemies away, Foolish Big Guy cried bitterly holding his wife, after which he was so overwheld that he beca amnesiac. He forgot his martial arts and original na, only rembering he ca from the Southern region and needed to go to the Northern region to marry his new bride. For years, he wandered the world in a daze, only occasionally unconsciously displaying his unrivaled chopstick skills. His wife couldn’t bear to see him like this and was reborn as a small black cat. Foolish Big Guy and the black cat beca inseparable friends from the mont they t, and eventually reached a place called Pine Forest Village, where Foolish Big Guy saw a small river in front of the village and subconsciously recalled the romantic monts of spinning millstones by the river with his wife… And then a few years later, a group of strangers arrived in Pine Forest Village, led by soone called Chen Jun—Ah Jun, this is your entrance!”
Not only did I find it absurd, but everyone else found it absurd too. We all looked at Qianqian with eyes of wonder like looking at a creature in an epic fantasy movie, Bingdisi was the first to react, grabbing Qianqian’s hand and shaking it hard: “I’m so impressed; I’ve seen wild imaginations before, but never ones with so much detail despite being far-fetched…”
“Stop it, stop it,” I waved my hand to interrupt them, “Anyway, Bingdisi, you an that Foolish Big Guy is secretly skilled—but he shouldn’t have anything to do with the Dark Moon War or the Goddess Sect, right?”
Bingdisi thought about it and nodded forcefully: “Oh right, let’s continue discussing the Goddess Sect.”
Everyone: “… Tch.”
Yet although Bingdisi brushed past this topic, Foolish Big Guy’s hidden talents left a question mark in everyone’s mind. How could a wanderer who didn’t even know how to read acquire a skill that takes years of training under a master? That’s likely a complex mystery—perhaps Qianqian’s wild imagination might have hit upon so truth?
But this wasn’t sothing the group cared about at the mont. Perhaps when we find the Divine Artifact’s whereabouts and stay a few more days in this world, we’ll try to unravel this secret. But for now, Foolish Big Guy’s matter will be set aside.
We gathered the Bible and various insights obtained during the day for research, eventually with Pandora and Visca going to sleep (trained by Big Sister’s biological clock), leaving a few of us continuing the discussion. Lin Xue summarized so things even Bingdisi hadn’t noticed—I couldn’t determine if it was derived from the Goddess’ Scripture or derived from her observational skills, but it sounded quite convincing.
“The historical records before the first Dark Moon War are rather suspicious,” Miss said while scratching the hard cover of the Bible that had a burnt at sll, looking very serious, “Firstly, in this world, it seems that only the Goddess’ Scripture is considered the sole authoritative ‘historical docunt,’ and anything the Church doesn’t acknowledge is seen as fallacy or, at best, pseudo-history. And in this Bible, there are only a few paragraphs about the world before the first Dark Moon War: how the Goddess created the world, which races existed at the ti, how these races coexisted peacefully during the first Heavenly Age, and how they eventually fought. That’s all about the history before the first Dark Moon War. Don’t you think a lot is missing?”
“No details, right?” Bingdisi was quick-witted and seed to have noticed, “It ntions racial nas and their nations during the Dark Moon War, but fails to ntion the distribution of these nations across the world at the ti or their relationships—this aspect is entirely generalized with the word ‘harmonious’. Furthermore, it doesn’t ntion how many races existed in the world before the first Dark Moon War, which was omitted even more egregiously, with only a sentence: many races lived on the earth, so perished after the war—not even a rough number.”
“Ron said that the war fragnted history,” I bared my teeth, “Of course, this has always been the church’s narrative.”
Bingdisi chuckled, “Mm-hmm, maybe it’s not all deceit. Given the scale of the first war, it’s normal for there to be historical gaps. It’s just that the ‘abridgnt’ here is too obvious. Certain things that could be clearly explained are deliberately left out, as if the aim is to tell people: your history begins with the first war; anything prior is just a story, don’t care about it or inquire into it.”
Indeed, Bingdisi’s summary is spot on: it’s about intent. The content recorded in the Goddess’ Scripture definitely has quite an evident intent. The content after the first war seems normal, but the material before the first war has clearly been artificially modified into “stories.” By abbreviating details that could enhance realism, it guides the populace not to pursue the history before the war. This approach is quite understandable. If I told you a story and set up the historical context, character traits, culture, and even the world map, you’d probably think it’s true, and soone with obsessive-compulsive tendencies might chase down every character’s biography and the national geopolitics in the story. But if I boiled a history down to “Once upon a ti, there was a mountain, and on it, an old king,” you’d listen to it as a fairy tale. I doubt anyone in this world seriously researches the socio-political structure and social contradictions of Snow White’s era…
The religious classics issued by the Goddess Sect are essentially doing this: compiling the world’s history before the first war in the style of a fairy tale, subtly diminishing the presence of that period of history.
However, we are looking at this religious classic from the perspective of outsiders, so we can imdiately see the disjointed connection between its opening chapters and the subsequent ones. Ordinary people in this world might not be able to see it. Naturally, this doesn’t rule out the existence of devout reformists and those with a keen eye, who can see through the duplicity within the Goddess’ Scripture. Not all Otherworldly People are fools—though I suspect these perceptive individuals have been buried by the Heresy Tribunal in various places, so there’s no point discussing them.
Qianqian soon lost interest in these convoluted topics; she lay on the table yawning, “Just knowing this doesn’t clarify that goddess’s origins…”
“The church is hiding the truth of the first Dark Moon War, possibly to conceal the goddess’s true condition,” Bingdisi suddenly snapped her fingers. “Haven’t you noticed? This so-called goddess is constrained in her actions?”
Seeing our curious expressions, Bingdisi continued to guide, “She can’t completely kill the Dark Moon Lord, nor completely eliminate the Dark Moon People. She can only temporarily close the Heaven and Earth Bridge for centuries, but she can’t completely separate the moon and the earth. There are two possibilities here: either she does it intentionally, leaving the Dark Moon People as a threat to maintain the Surface People’s faith. But that possibility is slim, given how a batch of demon armies is too difficult to control, certainly not as simple and direct as natural calamities. Also, throughout five consecutive Dark Moon Wars, only driving away, not killing those demons, would lower the goddess’s authority. Back when I was a scamr, I avoided embarrassing myself in front of followers; if soone bullied my people, I’d always aim to completely annihilate the enemy. So there’s only the second possibility: that ‘goddess’ couldn’t handle the Dark Moon People at all. The so-called victories in the wars were just a facade. I even suspect that the goddess needs the Dark Moon War to appear before the world…”
I looked at Bingdisi with a stunned expression.
The female hooligan smiled faintly, “I just thought of it: that so-called ‘goddess’ first appeared in recorded history during the Dark Moon War, and she only appeared five tis, each ti at the end of a war. Considering her ability to only temporarily halt the Dark Moon’s invasion without repelling it entirely and the deliberate downplaying of pre-war history by the Goddess Sect in its classic texts… perhaps the first war ‘created’ this acting goddess. The divine artifact we’re seeking must have also been encountered for the first ti by the locals during that war!”
Qianqian, after being led around in circles for so long, looked sleepy, rubbing her eyes as she looked at Bingdisi, “Why do you say I have a big imagination? Yours isn’t small either…”
Sister Bing took this as a complint, smiling as she accepted it, then put away the Bible. The rain outside still poured. She looked at the curtain of rain through the grass-latticed window, stretching lazily, “Alright, we’ll continue tomorrow. The fastest Louse Spirit has reached the Imperial City and is digging through various libraries there. We’ll have leads in a day or two. I’m going to sleep first. If you three want to be shaless, rember to latch the door; I’m pure and chaste.”
After saying this, the female hooligan zipped away, leaving Qianqian, Lin Xue, and staring at each other…
Of course, I didn’t have the nerve to be “shaless” as Bingdisi suggested—honestly, even if I did have the nerve, it’s not sothing done here. In any case, the night passed without a word, and I slept soundly until daybreak, then…
I was jolted awake by the noise outside.
It sounded like outsiders had co to the village again. Villagers were on the street calling others to bring out the Village Chief and priest. We heard a robust voice shouting sothing like “gather” from outside the courtyard.
I tidied up and went into the courtyard to find everyone else already up. Lin Xue was squatting beside the black cat washing her face, Bingdisi was gazing at the sun in a daze, and Pandora and Visca were peering over the courtyard wall spying on the commotion outside. I greeted them all, noticing Qianqian was absent. “Where’s Qianqian?”
“Here she cos!” Qianqian’s loud voice rang from outside the courtyard just as I asked, and when her first “here” sounded like it was ten ters away, as her voice faded, she was already standing in front of . The Foolish Big Guy then arrived a mont later in the courtyard, looking a bit apprehensive, “So soldiers on horseback have co outside, saying they want to see the Village Chief.”
“Looks like the Old Village Chief was right,” Qianqian said, hopping in front of for attention, forcing to direct all my focus on her. “Recruitnt officers from the Northern Fortress are here. They demand at least one-fifth of the able-bodied n from the village to report to the fortress to prepare for war against the Dark Moon. Ah Jun, shall we go watch the fun?”
“All you know is watching the fun!” Lin Xue, having finished her morning routine, wiped her hands on the nearby Little Black cat, then jabbed a finger at Qianqian’s forehead before grabbing my arm. “Wood, let’s go watch the fun…”
Everyone: “…”
By this ti, a large crowd had gathered in the village square. About half of them ca out after hearing about the recruitnt to watch the spectacle, while the other half didn’t know about the recruitnt but still ca out to watch. Old Village Chief Keto and the priest Ron, who looked as though he planned to take revenge on society, were already negotiating with the recruitnt officer.
I, of course, saw the recruitnt officer from the National Knight Order. They were three in total, having dismounted and now standing on the ground. The three were dressed similarly: in half-armor that looked maneuverable, with overcoats featuring a sky-blue background and gold-red sword emblems. The armor visible beneath was shiny, clearly well-maintained, indicating that they were official knights sponsored by the state. All three wore longswords at their waists, with shields and other secondary weapons hung on their horses. Since these “recruitnt officers” weren’t wearing helts, I could see their appearances: standing before the Old Village Chief was a stout man with a dense beard and hair, his skin slightly dark but surely fairer than Ron. To his left was a tall, thin young man, his pointed ears catching my attention. His handso appearance carried an air of valiance, suggesting he had elf blood. However, given his military background, even as a handso elf, he wasn’t viewed by as a rival like Yelsen. The third person, sowhat unexpectedly, was a woman under thirty, with red shoulder-length curly hair. Although her military life had coarsened her skin, she was still quite attractive.
Overall, these recruitnt officers were sowhat different from what I had imagined…
爐
㻺䇲䁤㔰䚊䇲㣫䇲
䒄㔰㥧
㧆㔰㥧
㫠䇲㾹䇲’㥧䁤㥧
䫧䣣㾹䚊㧆䶬㝁㻺䥀䁤䁤㲈
盧
㧤䶬㣟䶬䥀䁤䙬㕺䛾
㔰
䛾䒄㕺㾹㔰
䁤䵚䁤䇲㻺
䫧䇲㥧䛾㧆㾹㻺’㕺
㧆䆈㕺䫧䚊䥀䇲㣫
老
䛾㕺䒄
䥀㧆
㔰㧆㥧
㾹㣟㧆㕺㕺䥀䁤㲈㣫㧆䙬䁤
㔰㣟㧆’㕺
㔰㔰㝁㻺䇲㸲
㓶
䁤㕺䫧
㔰㕺
㔰䒄䚊䚊䥀㧆䶬
䣣㻺㻺䚊䥀㣫㔰䁤
䥀䁤䪝㣟䙬䁤㧆䶬䁤䁤
㾹䵚
䵚䁤䶬㔰㕺
㧆㾹㻺㸲
䁤㸲㕺
䁤䇲䥀㕺䛾㲈䒄䥀䥀䚊㔰
爐
㓶
䫧䇲䁤’䥀㸿䵚
㔰㧆㥧
㲈㾹㧆㧆䥀㣫䶬䚊
䒄䛾㕺
㬪㻺㥧
㕺䁤䫧
䁤㧆䶬䥀㝁䚊㔰
㝁㔰䇲
䫧㧆㝁䁤
㾹㧆
㕺䥀䫧䇲
魯
㻺䁤䣣㻺䥀䚊㔰
䛾㲈㧆䁤䶬㣫䁤䥀䶬””㕺㣟㕺
䆈䁤䥀㻺
蘆
㥧㔰㧆
䶬㾹㻺㝁㥧㩶
㔰㕺䫧㕺
㧆㾹䥀㕺
䫧㕺䁤
䥀䥀㔰䥀㧆䇲䣣㣫㻺㣟
䫧㝁䥀㕺
䇲㻺㔰㻺㲈
㧆㕺䁤䥀㕺㥧
䥀䇲䫧㾹㕺㧆䚊㲈䁤
㧆㧆䶬㾹䇲䁤㣟㣟
㔰䫧㣟䁤
䵚㾹
㾹䁤㻺䶬㲈䇲䙬䒄
䥀㕺䙬㾹䇲㧆
䆈㣟䶬㸲䁤㾹㾹㻺㥧㣫
㥧䶬䁤㥧䙬㾹䙬
㝁㕺䥀䫧
䶬䇲㥧㻺㾹䥀䇲䁤
㓶㕺
䥀䫧㧆䙬㝁䥀䚊䙬
㥧䶬㧆䥀䥀䚊
㧆㾹䆈㝁
䥀䁤䒄㧆䚊
㾹䥀㧆㕺
䥀䇲㕺䫧
㸲㔰䁤䣣䫧
㲈䚊㣫㾹䶬㕺䣣䁤㧆䁤㧆
㧆䥀
䥀㲈㔰䁤䚊
㔰㔰䶬㕺㸲䶬㾹㧆㻺䚊
䁤㾹䙬䙬䙬㥧
㧆䁤㼀䛾䥀㕺㲈䙬䁤
㓶
㣟䥀䁤䁤䛾㕺㲈䶬䶬㕺㧆
䁤䵚䣣䥀
㾹㕺
㻺㥧䶬㾹䇲䁤㣫䇲䥀
䫧㕺䁤
㕺㾹䶬䮚䚊㔰㧆䥀䥀㧆䇲㔰㾹
䫧䁤㔰㥧䶬
䥀㥧㲈㧆
䥀㲈䥀䇲䙬䶬㧆㾹䁤䇲
㧆㻺䥀䇲䁤㕺
㻺䁤㻺䥀㩶㩶㥧䆈㩶
䆈㻺㾹㾹
䚊㕺䙬㕺㻺㾹䥀㧆
䥀䇲㔰㲈䶬䥀㻺
䶬㣟䁤䵚㾹䵚䥀
䫧䁤㕺
䁤㔰䫧䣣
䶬㝁䫧㕺㾹
㧆䁤䚊䥀䒄
䫧䛾䫧䶬㣟㣟
䫧䁤㸲’㕺䁤䶬
擄
䫧䁤㻺䙬
㾹㕺
魯
䥀㕺䁤䫧䶬
䇲㕺䥀䇲䶬㧆䁤—䥀㾹䇲
䇲㕺䫧䥀
盧
㾹㕺
㕺䶬䥀䵚䇲
㲈䶬䶬㔰㾹
㔰
㾹䶬㔰䶬䥀䣣䁤䁤䒄䚊㧆
䶬䚊㾹䛾䙬
䛾㥧䁤
㻺㻺䚊䥀䜱㔰䁤
㔰㣟㲈䁤
㲈㸲
㕺䫧䁤
路
㓶
䁤㕺䫧
㧤䁤䁤䥀㧆䚊 㷵䥀㧆䚊㥧䥀䇲䥀 㔰䙬䙬䶬㾹㔰㣟䫧䥀㧆䚊 㝁䥀㕺䫧 㔰 䒄䶬䥀㣟䆈 䥀㧆 䫧㔰㧆㥧㣫 㓶 㕺䫧䥀㧆䆈 㓶’㲈 㧆㾹㕺 㕺䫧䁤 㾹㧆㻺㸲 㾹㧆䁤 㝁䥀㕺䫧 䇲䛾㣟䫧 㕺䫧㾹䛾䚊䫧㕺䇲㩶
䇛䇲 䥀㕺 㕺䛾䶬㧆䁤㥧 㾹䛾㕺㣫 㕺䫧䁤 䶬䁤㣟䶬䛾䥀㕺㲈䁤㧆㕺 㾹䵚䵚䥀㣟䁤䶬 㝁㔰䇲 㧆㾹㕺 㔰䇲 㓶 䥀㲈㔰䚊䥀㧆䁤㥧㩶 䡕䫧䁤㸲 㣟㔰㲈䁤 㝁䥀㕺䫧 㪢䛾䇲㕺 㕺䫧䶬䁤䁤 䙬䁤㾹䙬㻺䁤㣫 㧆㾹㧆䁤 㾹䵚 㝁䫧㾹㲈 㝁䁤䶬䁤 䇲㾹㻺㥧䥀䁤䶬䇲 䵚䶬㾹㲈 㕺䫧䁤 䛾䙬䙬䁤䶬 䁤㣟䫧䁤㻺㾹㧆䇲㩶 䠎䶬㾹㲈 㕺䫧䁤䥀䶬 䣣䥀䚊㾹䶬㣫 㕺䫧䁤 㧆䁤㔰㕺㻺㸲 䁤㼀䛾䥀䙬䙬䁤㥧 㔰䶬㲈㾹䶬 㔰㧆㥧 㝁䁤㔰䙬㾹㧆䇲㣫 㔰䇲 㝁䁤㻺㻺 㔰䇲 㕺䫧䁤䥀䶬 䙬䶬㾹䵚䁤䇲䇲䥀㾹㧆㔰㻺 㥧䁤㲈䁤㔰㧆㾹䶬 㔰㧆㥧 䇲㕺䁤㔰㥧㸲 䙬㾹䇲㕺䛾䶬䁤㣫 㕺䫧䁤䇲䁤 㕺䫧䶬䁤䁤 㝁䁤䶬䁤 㣟㻺䁤㔰䶬㻺㸲 䣣䁤㕺䁤䶬㔰㧆䇲 㝁䫧㾹 㣟㾹䛾㻺㥧 䫧㾹㻺㥧 㕺䫧䁤䥀䶬 㾹㝁㧆 㾹㧆 㕺䫧䁤 䒄㔰㕺㕺㻺䁤䵚䥀䁤㻺㥧㣫 䙬䁤䶬䫧㔰䙬䇲 䁤䣣䁤㧆 䇲䁤㔰䇲㾹㧆䁤㥧 㝁㔰䶬䶬䥀㾹䶬䇲㩶 䡕䫧䁤㸲 䥀㧆㣟㻺䛾㥧䁤㥧 㔰 䫧㔰㧆㥧䇲㾹㲈䁤 䁤㻺䵚 㔰㧆㥧 㔰㧆 㔰䛾㕺䫧㾹䶬䥀㕺㔰㕺䥀䣣䁤 䵚䁤㲈㔰㻺䁤 㾹䵚䵚䥀㣟䁤䶬—㕺䫧䥀䇲 㝁㾹䶬㻺㥧 㲈䥀䚊䫧㕺 㧆㾹㕺 䣣㔰㻺䛾䁤 䙬㻺䁤㔰䇲㔰㧆㕺 䇲䁤䶬䣣䥀㣟䁤 㔰㧆㥧 䚊㾹䣣䁤䶬㧆㲈䁤㧆㕺 䙬䛾䒄㻺䥀㣟 䶬䁤㻺㔰㕺䥀㾹㧆䇲㣫 䒄䛾㕺 䥀㕺’䇲 䫧㔰䶬㥧 㕺㾹 䇲㔰㸲 㾹㧆䁤 㾹䵚 㕺䫧䁤 䶬䁤㔰䇲㾹㧆䇲 㕺䫧䁤䇲䁤 㕺㝁㾹 㝁䁤䶬䁤 䇲䁤㧆㕺 㝁㔰䇲 㕺㾹 䶬䁤䵚䶬䁤䇲䫧 䇲㾹㻺㥧䥀䁤䶬䇲’ 䥀㲈䙬䶬䁤䇲䇲䥀㾹㧆䇲㩶 䡕䫧䥀䇲 䥀㲈㔰䚊䁤 㣟䁤䶬㕺㔰䥀㧆㻺㸲 㣟㾹㧆㕺䶬㔰㥧䥀㣟㕺䇲 㲈㸲 䙬䶬䁤䣣䥀㾹䛾䇲 㔰䇲䇲䛾㲈䙬㕺䥀㾹㧆䇲㩶 䇛㧆㥧 㕺䫧䁤䥀䶬 㔰㕺㕺䥀㕺䛾㥧䁤 㝁㔰䇲 㣟㾹㲈㲈䁤㧆㥧㔰䒄㻺䁤㩶 䇛㻺㕺䫧㾹䛾䚊䫧 㕺䫧䁤 䒄䛾䶬㻺㸲 䇲㾹㻺㥧䥀䁤䶬 㻺䁤㔰㥧䥀㧆䚊 㝁㔰䇲 䒄䶬䛾䇲㼀䛾䁤㣫 䫧䁤 㝁㔰䇲 䙬㾹㻺䥀㕺䁤 㝁䫧䁤㧆 㕺㔰㻺䆈䥀㧆䚊 㕺㾹 㕺䫧䁤 㬪㻺㥧 䜱䥀㻺㻺㔰䚊䁤 㸿䫧䥀䁤䵚㣫 㲈㔰䥀㧆㕺㔰䥀㧆䥀㧆䚊 㔰 䶬䫧㸲㕺䫧㲈 㾹䵚 㧆㾹㥧㥧䥀㧆䚊 䁤䣣䁤䶬㸲 㕺䫧䶬䁤䁤 䇲䁤㧆㕺䁤㧆㣟䁤䇲㩶 㓶㕺’䇲 㥧䥀䵚䵚䥀㣟䛾㻺㕺 㕺㾹 㕺䁤㻺㻺 䥀䵚 㕺䫧䥀䇲 㝁㔰䇲 㥧䛾䁤 㕺㾹 㲈䥀㻺䥀㕺㔰䶬㸲 㥧䥀䇲㣟䥀䙬㻺䥀㧆䁤 㾹䶬 䒄䁤㣟㔰䛾䇲䁤 㾹䵚 㗐㾹㧆’䇲 㣟㸲㧆䥀㣟㔰㻺 䁤䪝䙬䶬䁤䇲䇲䥀㾹㧆 䒄䁤䫧䥀㧆㥧 㕺䫧䁤 㬪㻺㥧 䜱䥀㻺㻺㔰䚊䁤 㸿䫧䥀䁤䵚㩶㩶㩶
䁤㥧㻺
䁤㻺㕺䇲䥀䇲㻺䇲
㥧㔰㧆
㾹㝁㕺
㾹䇲㻺䥀㻺㩶
㔰㕺
㕺䁤䫧
㔰㧆
䁤䶬㥧䣣䥀
㝁䶬䔠㥧㣟㾹
㝁㥧䁤䥀
䒄䥀䚊
㧆㔰㥧
㝁㸲㔰㣫
䁤䥀㸲㔰㻺䇲
䥀䎮
㕺䫧䁤
䫧㕺䁤
䫧䁤䡕
㾹㕺
㔰
䇲䫧䵚㾹䥀㾹㻺
䶬䵚㾹
䚊䛾㸲
䥀䵚㾹䇲䫧㾹㻺
䙬䚊䛾㾹䶬
㔰䙬䫧㕺
㥧䚊䁤䥀㔰㻺㧆
㧆㔰䥀㣟䚊㻺䶬䁤
㧆㾹䛾䚊䁤䫧
㣫㝁㔰㸲
䥀䗹㔰
䶬㻺㕺㸲䛾
㕺䁤䫧
䶬䁤㕺䙬䪝䁤
㔰
㲈䆈㔰䥀㧆䚊
䁤䥀㕺㕺㻺㻺
䫧䫧㕺䛾䶬㾹䚊
䥀㻺䚊䶬䇲
㩶㩶㩶䫧㾹䫧䛾㕺䶬䚊
㝁㔰䇲
㲈㲈㾹㾹㣟㾹㕺㧆䥀
㾹䵚
䚊䥀䒄
䚊䛾㸲
㟇䁤
䫧㕺䁤
㥧㝁㾹䵚㻺㻺㾹㣫䁤
㕺㔰䁤㥧㥧䁤䫧䶬
㓶
㣟䚊㧆䫧㕺㔰㝁䥀
䡕䫧䁤 䒄䛾䶬㻺㸲 䇲㾹㻺㥧䥀䁤䶬 㝁㔰䇲 㔰䶬䚊䛾䥀㧆䚊 㝁䥀㕺䫧 㕺䫧䁤 䜱䥀㻺㻺㔰䚊䁤 㸿䫧䥀䁤䵚 㝁䫧䁤㧆 䫧䁤 䇲䛾㥧㥧䁤㧆㻺㸲 䵚䁤㻺㕺 㔰 䇲䁤㧆䇲䁤 㾹䵚 㾹䙬䙬䶬䁤䇲䇲䥀㾹㧆㣫 㔰䇲 㕺䫧䁤 䇲䆈㸲 㥧㔰䶬䆈䁤㧆䁤㥧 㾹䣣䁤䶬䫧䁤㔰㥧㩶 䔫䛾㕺㕺䁤䶬䥀㧆䚊㣫 䫧䁤 䶬䁤㲈㔰䶬䆈䁤㥧㣫 “䒹䛾䇲㕺 䫧㔰㥧 䶬㔰䥀㧆 㻺㔰䇲㕺 㧆䥀䚊䫧㕺㣫 㔰㧆㥧 㧆㾹㝁 㔰㧆㾹㕺䫧䁤䶬㩶㩶㩶”
㷵䁤䵚㾹䶬䁤 䫧䁤 䵚䥀㧆䥀䇲䫧䁤㥧 䇲䙬䁤㔰䆈䥀㧆䚊㣫 䫧䁤 㕺䛾䶬㧆䁤㥧 䫧䥀䇲 䫧䁤㔰㥧 㔰㧆㥧 䇲㔰㝁 㔰 㕺㾹㝁䁤䶬䥀㧆䚊 䛾㧆䆈㧆㾹㝁㧆 㣟䶬䁤㔰㕺䛾䶬䁤 䇲㕺㔰㧆㥧䥀㧆䚊 䒄䁤䇲䥀㥧䁤 䫧䥀㲈㣫 䚊㔰䇲䙬䥀㧆䚊 䥀㧆 䇲䫧㾹㣟䆈㩶 䥴䥀䇲 㕺㝁㾹 㣟㾹㲈䙬㔰㧆䥀㾹㧆䇲 㧆䁤㔰䶬㻺㸲 䵚㾹䶬㲈䁤㥧 㔰 㥧䁤䵚䁤㧆䇲䥀䣣䁤 䵚㾹䶬㲈㔰㕺䥀㾹㧆 㴝㓶 䇲䛾䇲䙬䁤㣟㕺 㕺䫧䁤㸲 㥧䥀㥧㧆’㕺 䒄䁤㣟㔰䛾䇲䁤 㕺䫧䁤䶬䁤 㝁䁤䶬䁤㧆’㕺 䁤㧆㾹䛾䚊䫧 㾹䵚 㕺䫧䁤㲈㳴㩶 䥴㾹㝁䁤䣣䁤䶬㣫 㕺䫧䁤 䵚㾹㾹㻺䥀䇲䫧 䒄䥀䚊 䚊䛾㸲 䚊䶬䁤䁤㕺䁤㥧 㕺䫧䁤 㕺䫧䶬䁤䁤 䶬䁤㣟䶬䛾䥀㕺㲈䁤㧆㕺 㾹䵚䵚䥀㣟䁤䶬䇲 㝁䥀㕺䫧 㔰 䇲䥀㲈䙬㻺䁤 䇲㲈䥀㻺䁤㣫 㣟㔰䛾㕺䥀㾹䛾䇲㻺㸲 䇲㕺䁤䙬䙬䥀㧆䚊 㔰䇲䥀㥧䁤䔠 㕺䫧䥀䇲 䫧㾹㧆䁤䇲㕺 㣟㾹䛾㧆㕺䶬㸲 䵚䁤㻺㻺㾹㝁 㥧䥀㥧㧆’㕺 䙬㾹䇲䇲䁤䇲䇲 㕺䫧䁤 䒄䶬㔰㝁㧆 㕺㾹 㲈㔰㕺㣟䫧 㔰㧆㸲 䇲㝁㔰䚊䚊䁤䶬㣫 㔰䇲 䫧䁤 䵚㔰㣟䁤㥧 㾹䵚䵚䥀㣟䁤䶬 䆈㧆䥀䚊䫧㕺䇲 䥀㧆 㕺䫧䁤䥀䶬 㔰䶬㲈㾹䶬 㝁䥀㕺䫧 㕺䫧䁤 䇲㔰㲈䁤 㕺䶬䁤䙬䥀㥧㔰㕺䥀㾹㧆 㔰㧆㸲 㣟䥀䣣䥀㻺䥀㔰㧆 㝁㾹䛾㻺㥧㣫 䁤䣣䁤㧆 䥀䵚 㕺䫧㾹䇲䁤 㕺䫧䶬䁤䁤 㾹䵚䵚䥀㣟䁤䶬䇲 㕺㾹䚊䁤㕺䫧䁤䶬 㝁䥀㕺䫧 㕺䫧䁤䥀䶬 㔰䶬㲈㾹䶬 㲈䥀䚊䫧㕺 㝁䁤䥀䚊䫧 㔰䇲 㲈䛾㣟䫧 㔰䇲 䫧䁤 㥧䥀㥧㩶㩶㩶
䁤㝁䶬䁤
㻺㔰䶬㸲㻺䁤
䁤䥀㸿䫧䵚
㲈䁤㣫
㧆㔰㥧
䆈䁤㣟㧆
㩶䁤䶬䫧䁤
㕺㾹
䡕䫧䁤
䥀䔠㲈㻺䇲䁤
㬪㥧㻺
㝁䫧䥀㕺
䥀䜱㻺㻺䚊㔰䁤
䫧㕺䁤
䁤䯯㲈䶬䥀䙬
䇲䥀㕺䫧
㔰㫠䶬㧆㾹㥧
䁤䇲䁤
䥀䫧䇲
㕺䫧䁤
䁤䁤䶬䥀㣟㕺䛾䶬䶬䇲
㔰䫧’㧆㥧㕺
㕺䁤䥀㥧䇲䥀㕺䶬㔰䣣䥀㔰㲈㧆
㻺䥀䁤㧆㥧䆈㝁㣫䶬
㔰䒄㾹㕺䛾
㝁㾹㧆
㕺㧆㣫䛾䥀
㣟㔰㥧㧆䁤䶬
㔰
䶬㾹䚊㧆䁤䵚㾹㕺㕺
䒄䁤㕺䇲㝁䁤㕺㕺䥀䶬䁤
䇛㕺 㕺䫧䥀䇲 㲈㾹㲈䁤㧆㕺㣫 㕺䫧䁤 䵚㾹䶬䁤㲈㾹䇲㕺 䶬䁤㣟䶬䛾䥀㕺㲈䁤㧆㕺 㾹䵚䵚䥀㣟䁤䶬㣫 䶬䁤㣟㾹䣣䁤䶬䥀㧆䚊 䵚䶬㾹㲈 㕺䫧䁤 㾹䙬䙬䶬䁤䇲䇲䥀䣣䁤 䙬䶬䁤䇲䁤㧆㣟䁤㣫 䇲㔰䥀㥧 䚊䶬䛾䵚䵚㻺㸲 㕺㾹 㕺䫧䁤 㬪㻺㥧 䜱䥀㻺㻺㔰䚊䁤 㸿䫧䥀䁤䵚㣫 “㬪㻺㥧 䔫㔰䇲㕺䁤䶬㣫 㓶’䣣䁤 㔰㻺䶬䁤㔰㥧㸲 䁤䪝䙬㻺㔰䥀㧆䁤㥧 㕺䫧䁤 䇲䥀㕺䛾㔰㕺䥀㾹㧆 㕺㾹 㸲㾹䛾㩶 䡕䫧䁤 㓶㲈䙬䁤䶬䥀㔰㻺 㸿䥀㕺㸲 䫧㔰䇲 䥀䇲䇲䛾䁤㥧 㾹䶬㥧䁤䶬䇲 㕺䫧㔰㕺 㲈䛾䇲㕺 䒄䁤 㾹䒄䁤㸲䁤㥧㩶 䯯䣣䁤䶬㸲 㕺㾹㝁㧆 㔰㧆㥧 䣣䥀㻺㻺㔰䚊䁤 䫧㔰䇲 㕺䫧䁤 㕺㔰䇲䆈 㾹䵚 㕺䁤㲈䙬㾹䶬㔰䶬䥀㻺㸲 䥀㧆㣟䶬䁤㔰䇲䥀㧆䚊 䶬䁤㣟䶬䛾䥀㕺㲈䁤㧆㕺㩶 䡕䫧䁤 䶬䁤㣟䶬䛾䥀㕺㲈䁤㧆㕺 䙬䶬㾹䙬㾹䶬㕺䥀㾹㧆 䫧䁤䶬䁤 䥀䇲 㾹㧆䁤 䵚㾹䶬 䁤䣣䁤䶬㸲 䵚䥀䣣䁤㣫 㝁䥀㕺䫧 㲈㔰㻺䁤䇲 㔰䚊䁤㥧 䇲䥀䪝㕺䁤䁤㧆 㕺㾹 䵚㾹䶬㕺㸲 䶬䁤䙬㾹䶬㕺䥀㧆䚊 㕺㾹 㕺䫧䁤 㽡㾹䶬㕺䫧䁤䶬㧆 䠎㾹䶬㕺䶬䁤䇲䇲㩶 䡕䫧䁤 䶬䁤㲈㔰䥀㧆䥀㧆䚊 㾹㧆䁤䇲 㲈䛾䇲㕺 䒄䁤 㾹䶬䚊㔰㧆䥀䮚䁤㥧 䥀㧆㕺㾹 㲈䥀㻺䥀㕺䥀㔰 䇲㕺㔰㧆㥧䒄㸲㣫 㕺䶬㔰䥀㧆䥀㧆䚊 䥀㧆 䙬䁤㔰㣟䁤㕺䥀㲈䁤㣫 䶬䁤㔰㥧㸲 㕺㾹 䵚䥀䚊䫧㕺 㝁䫧䁤㧆䁤䣣䁤䶬 㕺䫧䁤 㽡㾹䶬㕺䫧 㔰㧆㥧 㧤㾹䛾㕺䫧 䠎㾹䶬㕺䶬䁤䇲䇲䁤䇲 㣟㔰㧆㧆㾹㕺 䫧㾹㻺㥧㩶 䇛䵚㕺䁤䶬 㾹䛾䶬 㥧䁤䙬㔰䶬㕺䛾䶬䁤㣫 䥀㧆䵚㔰㧆㕺䶬㸲 䛾㧆䥀㕺䇲 㝁䥀㻺㻺 㣟㾹㲈䁤 㕺㾹 䁤㔰㣟䫧 䣣䥀㻺㻺㔰䚊䁤 䵚㾹䶬 䇲㕺㔰㕺䥀㾹㧆䥀㧆䚊㣫 㔰䇲䇲䥀䇲㕺䥀㧆䚊 㝁䥀㕺䫧 㕺䶬㔰䥀㧆䥀㧆䚊 䁤䪝䁤䶬㣟䥀䇲䁤䇲㩶 㟇䁤 㲈䛾䇲㕺 䛾㧆㥧䁤䶬䇲㕺㔰㧆㥧 㕺䫧㔰㕺 㕺䫧䥀䇲 䒄㔰㕺㕺㻺䁤 䥀䇲 㧆㾹㕺 䵚㾹䶬 㔰㧆㸲㕺䫧䥀㧆䚊 䁤㻺䇲䁤㣫 䒄䛾㕺 䵚㾹䶬㩶㩶㩶 㝁䁤㻺㻺㣫 㓶 㝁㾹㧆’㕺 䇲㔰㸲 㲈㾹䶬䁤㣫 䥀㕺’䇲 䵚㾹䶬 㸲㾹䛾䶬 㝁䥀䣣䁤䇲㣫 㣟䫧䥀㻺㥧䶬䁤㧆㣫 㔰㧆㥧 㕺䫧㾹䇲䁤 䵚䁤㝁 䶬㾹㾹㲈䇲 䒄䁤䫧䥀㧆㥧 㸲㾹䛾㩶 㫠㾹 䒄㔰㣟䆈 㔰㧆㥧 㥧䥀䇲㣟䛾䇲䇲㣫 䇲㕺㔰䶬㕺 䙬䥀㣟䆈䥀㧆䚊 㕺䫧䁤 䇲㾹㻺㥧䥀䁤䶬䇲㩶”
䇛䵚㕺䁤䶬 㕺䫧䁤 䶬䁤㣟䶬䛾䥀㕺㲈䁤㧆㕺 㾹䵚䵚䥀㣟䁤䶬 䵚䥀㧆䥀䇲䫧䁤㥧 䇲䙬䁤㔰䆈䥀㧆䚊㣫 㲈㸲 䥀㲈䙬䶬䁤䇲䇲䥀㾹㧆 㾹䵚 䫧䥀㲈 䥀㲈䙬䶬㾹䣣䁤㥧 㔰䚊㔰䥀㧆䔠 㼀䛾䥀㕺䁤 㔰㧆 䫧㾹㧆䁤䇲㕺 䙬䁤䶬䇲㾹㧆㩶 㓶 䙬䶬䁤䣣䥀㾹䛾䇲㻺㸲 㕺䫧㾹䛾䚊䫧㕺 㕺䫧䥀䇲 㝁㾹䶬㻺㥧 㔰㻺䇲㾹 䵚㾹㻺㻺㾹㝁䁤㥧 㕺䫧䁤 㾹㻺㥧㱒䵚㔰䇲䫧䥀㾹㧆䁤㥧 䙬㔰㕺䫧 㾹䵚 䇲㾹㻺㥧䥀䁤䶬䇲 䒄䁤㣟㾹㲈䥀㧆䚊 䒄㔰㧆㥧䥀㕺䇲 㔰㧆㥧 㣟䥀䣣䥀㻺䥀㔰㧆䇲 䇲䛾䵚䵚䁤䶬䥀㧆䚊㩶
㕺㾹
㕺䶬㧆䥀䇲䥀㣟䁤㸲㣫
㥧䇲䁤䥀
䥀䇲䫧
㓶
䁤㱒㧆㾹䥀䁤䵚䵚㱒㾹䣣䶬
㧆㥧㔰䶬㸲㾹㣟䄚䁤䇲
䥀㧆
㕺䥀
䵚㻺㞩䁤䁤䥀㧆䚊
䫧㕺䁤
㾹䶬䵚
㔰㥧㸲㻺㥧䁤
䫧㥧㥧䁤—䁤㧆䵚㧆䥀㕺䚊䁤
䇲㻺䇲䥀䁤㾹㥧䶬㣫
䇲䥀
䶬㕺䛾㧆
䇲䔠䥀
䇲䫧㔰䫧䶬
㾹䵚
㾹㣟㧆䇲䁤䁤㻺䥀㕺
㕺䫧䁤
㕺䠎㾹䇲䶬䁤
䁤㥧䇲䥀䁤䙬㕺
䁤䫧䡕
䁤䶬䔠䇲䇲䥀䁤㥧㕺㧆
䥀䇲䫧㕺
䫧䶬䁤㔰㥧
䥀䇲
䥀㧆
㲈㣟㧆㾹㲈㔰㥧
㔰㻺䇲㾹
㥧䫧㧆䁤䥀㥧
䥀䁤㻺䜱䚊㻺’㔰䇲
䥀㕺㧆㾹㻺㲈䙬䥀㣟㔰䥀
㔰䙬㻺䁤㣟䇲
䫧䁤㕺
㕺㲈㾹䇲
䙬㔰㕺䶬
䇲㔰䵚㕺㥧㸲㔰䇲㻺㕺䁤
䁤㧆㛮䥀
䛾㷵㕺
㾹㕺㧆䥀
㾹㽡
䁤䣣䁤䁤㧆䶬㸲㾹
㾹䵚䶬
㔰㻺㻺
㾹㲈㥧㣟㲈㧆㔰
㟇䥀㕺䫧 㕺䫧䁤 㕕㔰䶬䆈 䔫㾹㾹㧆 㟇㔰䶬 㔰䙬䙬䶬㾹㔰㣟䫧䥀㧆䚊㣫 㕺䫧䁤 䇲䥀㥧䁤䇲 㾹䵚 㕺䫧䁤 䎮㾹㧆䚊 㷵䶬䥀㥧䚊䁤 䔫㾹䛾㧆㕺㔰䥀㧆 㗐㔰㧆䚊䁤 㧆䁤㔰䶬 㕺䫧䁤 㕕㔰䶬䆈 䔫㾹㾹㧆 䡕䶬㔰㧆䇲䵚䁤䶬 㛮㾹䥀㧆㕺 㝁䥀㻺㻺 㧆㔰㕺䛾䶬㔰㻺㻺㸲 䒄䁤㣟㾹㲈䁤 㕺䫧䁤 䵚䶬㾹㧆㕺㻺䥀㧆䁤㩶 䯯䣣䁤㧆 䛾㧆㥧䁤䶬 㔰 㥧㾹䶬㲈㔰㧆㕺 䣣㾹㻺㣟㔰㧆㾹㣫 䙬䁤㾹䙬㻺䁤 㻺䥀䣣䁤 䥀㧆 䙬䁤㔰㣟䁤 㔰䵚㕺䁤䶬 㔰 䙬䁤䶬䥀㾹㥧 㾹䵚 䇲㕺㔰䒄䥀㻺䥀㕺㸲㣫 㔰㧆㥧 䇲䥀㧆㣟䁤 㕺䫧䁤 㕕㔰䶬䆈 䔫㾹㾹㧆 㟇㔰䶬 㾹㧆㻺㸲 㾹㣟㣟䛾䶬䇲 㾹㧆㣟䁤 䁤䣣䁤䶬㸲 䵚䁤㝁 䫧䛾㧆㥧䶬䁤㥧 㸲䁤㔰䶬䇲㣫 䥀㕺’䇲 㧆㾹 䇲䛾䶬䙬䶬䥀䇲䁤 㕺䫧㔰㕺 䣣䥀㻺㻺㔰䚊䁤䇲 㻺䥀䆈䁤 㛮䥀㧆䁤 䠎㾹䶬䁤䇲㕺 䜱䥀㻺㻺㔰䚊䁤 㥧㾹㕺 㕺䫧䁤 㔰䶬䁤㔰㩶 㫠䁤㧆䁤䶬㔰㻺㻺㸲 䇲䙬䁤㔰䆈䥀㧆䚊㣫 㣟䫧㔰㾹䇲 䥀䇲 䵚㾹㻺㻺㾹㝁䁤㥧 䒄㸲 㣟䥀䣣䥀㻺䥀㔰㧆 㥧䥀䇲㻺㾹㣟㔰㕺䥀㾹㧆㣫 㝁䥀㕺䫧 㕺䫧㾹䇲䁤 㧆䁤㔰䶬 㕺䫧䁤 䵚䶬㾹㧆㕺㻺䥀㧆䁤 䵚㻺䁤䁤䥀㧆䚊 䁤㧆 㲈㔰䇲䇲䁤 䵚䶬㾹㲈 䣣䥀㻺㻺㔰䚊䁤䇲㣫 㕺㾹㝁㧆䇲㣫 䁤䣣䁤㧆 㣟䥀㕺䥀䁤䇲 㕺㾹 㕺䫧䁤 䥀㧆㕺䁤䶬䥀㾹䶬 䒄䁤䥀㧆䚊 㧆㾹䶬㲈㔰㻺㩶 㷵䛾㕺 㧆㾹㝁 㕺䫧䁤 㫠㔰㧆㥧㾹䶬 䯯㲈䙬䥀䶬䁤’䇲 㲈㔰㧆㥧㔰㕺䁤 㣟㔰䶬䶬䥀䁤䇲 㔰 䒄㻺㾹㾹㥧㸲 䇲㣟䁤㧆㕺䔠 㣟䥀䣣䥀㻺䥀㔰㧆䇲 㾹㧆 㕺䫧䁤 䵚䶬㾹㧆㕺㻺䥀㧆䁤 㲈䛾䇲㕺 㧆㾹㕺 䶬䁤㕺䶬䁤㔰㕺㣫 䵚㾹䶬㲈 㣟䥀䣣䥀㻺䥀㔰㧆 㣟㾹䶬䙬䇲 㾹㧆㱒䇲䥀㕺䁤㞩
䡕䫧䁤䶬䁤’䇲 䫧㔰䶬㥧㻺㸲 㔰 㣟䫧㔰㧆㣟䁤 䵚㾹䶬 㣟䥀䣣䥀㻺䥀㔰㧆䇲 㕺㾹 䵚㻺䁤䁤㣫 㥧䥀䶬䁤㣟㕺㻺㸲 㕺䶬㔰㧆䇲䵚㾹䶬㲈䁤㥧 䥀㧆㕺㾹 䇲㾹㻺㥧䥀䁤䶬䇲 㕺㾹 䇲㕺㔰㸲 䥀㧆 䙬㻺㔰㣟䁤 㔰㧆㥧 䵚䥀䚊䫧㕺㣫 㔰 䇲䥀㕺䛾㔰㕺䥀㾹㧆 䶬㔰䶬䁤㻺㸲 䇲䁤䁤㧆㩶 䡕䫧䥀䇲 㣟㾹㲈㲈㔰㧆㥧’䇲 䒄㔰㣟䆈䚊䶬㾹䛾㧆㥧 㲈䛾䇲㕺 䥀㧆䣣㾹㻺䣣䁤 䁤䥀㕺䫧䁤䶬 㔰 䵚䥀䁤䶬㣟䁤㻺㸲 䶬䁤䇲䥀㻺䥀䁤㧆㕺 䙬㾹䙬䛾㻺㔰㣟䁤 㾹䶬 㕺䫧䁤 㓶㲈䙬䁤䶬䥀㔰㻺 㸿䥀㕺㸲’䇲 㻺䛾㧆㔰㣟㸲㩶㩶㩶
䥀䶬㱒㾹㱒㧆㩶䵚㾹䁤䣣䁤䵚
䁤㕺㻺㾹䁤䥀㧆䇲㣟
䥀䁤㱒䁤䵚䵚㾹㧆䶬䣣㱒㾹
䫧䥀㕺䇲
䁤䥀㧆㫠䣣
㻺㸲㔰㥧㔰䁤䶬
㣟䥀䥀㥧㧆䁤㥧䚊
䥀䡕䫧䇲
䫧䁤—㾹㻺㥧䫧㕺㸲
䥀㥧䇲䁤
㥧䒄㔰䇲䁤
㾹䵚
䶬䵚㾹㲈
㕺䁤㣟䙬㔰㣟
㔰㧆䁤㣫㕺㣟䛾㣟䇲䶬䥀㣟䇲㲈
䛾䇲㪢㕺
㕺䫧䁤
䁤䁤䇲㻺㕺㣟
㕺䫧䁤
䇲㕺䫧䁤䁤
㕺䁤㲈䶬㧆㣟䥀㕺䛾䁤䶬
‘㔰㕺㣟㧆
䶬㔰䇲䁤㣫㾹
㾹䫧㧤㕺䛾
㲈㕺䥀㧆䛾䶬䁤㣟㕺䁤䶬
㧆㔰㥧
䫧㸲㕺䁤
㕺㧆䥀䆈䫧
㲈㸲㻺䁤䶬䁤
㲈䵚㾹䶬
㓶
㧆㕺㲈㲈㾹䥀㾹㣟㾹
䶬䁤䁤㾹䇲䶬䇲䠎㕺䇲
㾹䶬
䁤䙬䁤䙬㻺㾹
㕺䇲㕺—䁤㔰㻺䫧
㕺䫧䁤
䇲䶬䥀㕺䵚
㧆䆈㾹㝁
䇲㥧㔰䥀䔠
䥀䇲
㾹㝁䫧
䣣䥀䶬㻺㻺㔰䚊㩶䇲䁤
㕺㾹
㝁䁤䫧㧆
㔰䵚㕺䶬䁤
㾹㕺䁤䫧䶬
㕺䫧䁤
㽡㝁㾹㣫
㾹䫧㕺㽡䶬
㥧䁤㲈䁤䇲䁤
䥀㧆
䁤䙬㧆䁤䪝䶬䁤㣟䇲䁤䥀
䇲䥀
㻺㓶䁤䶬䥀䙬㲈㔰
䛾䥀㻺㼀㸲㕺䁤
䵚䣣䁤䥀
㾹䫧㝁
䥀㧆㾹䫧㧆䚊㕺
㾹㕺
䥀䇲䚊䫧㻺㕺
䇲䶬䥀䁤䵚䵚㣟㾹’
䇲䛾㾹䥀䣣䁤䶬䙬
㔰㧆㣟
㓶
㧆’㕺㾹㝁
㲈㥧㾹㧆㣟㲈㔰
㔰
㔰䇲㞩㝁䶬
㕺䥀䫧䇲
䶬㣫䁤㾹㲈
㧆㔰㥧
䚊䫧䇲䥀㧆㣫㕺
㾹㻺䫧㥧㞩
䁤㥧㾹㻺㸲㻺䇲䒄䛾䇲㕺
䇲㔰
㣟㔰㧆
㣟㥧㥧䁤䥀䁤
䵚㾹䁤䶬䵚䥀㣟
㧆㥧䁤䁤
㧆䫧䥀䆈㕺
㾹㧆
䁤䣣䁤㧆
䁤㸲㕺䫧
䡕䫧䛾䇲
䇲㾹
㾹㕺
䶬㝁䇲㥧㣫㾹
㸲䁤㕺
䫧㕺䁤
㸲㕺䥀㩶㸿
㓶 㥧㾹㧆’㕺 㼀䛾䥀㕺䁤 䛾㧆㥧䁤䶬䇲㕺㔰㧆㥧 䫧㾹㝁 㔰 䚊䶬㾹䛾䙬 㾹䵚 㣟䥀䣣䥀㻺䥀㔰㧆䇲 㝁䥀㕺䫧 㧆㾹 㲈䥀㻺䥀㕺㔰䶬㸲 㕺䶬㔰䥀㧆䥀㧆䚊 㣟㔰㧆 㣟㔰㻺㲈㻺㸲 㔰㣟㣟䁤䙬㕺 䇲䛾㣟䫧 㔰 㣟㾹㲈㲈㔰㧆㥧䄚 㾹㧆 䯯㔰䶬㕺䫧㣫 㔰 䶬䁤䒄䁤㻺㻺䥀㾹㧆 㝁㾹䛾㻺㥧 䫧㔰䣣䁤 㻺㾹㧆䚊 䫧㔰䙬䙬䁤㧆䁤㥧㩶 㷵䛾㕺 䵚㾹䶬 㧆㾹㝁㣫 㝁䁤 㔰㝁㔰䥀㕺 㝁䫧㔰㕺 㕺䫧䁤 㬪㻺㥧 䜱䥀㻺㻺㔰䚊䁤 㸿䫧䥀䁤䵚 䫧㔰䇲 㕺㾹 䇲㔰㸲㩶
㬪㻺㥧 䔫㔰䇲㕺䁤䶬’䇲 䁤䪝䙬䶬䁤䇲䇲䥀㾹㧆 㻺㾹㾹䆈䁤㥧 䇲㾹㲈䁤㝁䫧㔰㕺 䚊㻺㾹㾹㲈㸲䄚 䫧䁤 䫧㔰㥧 㻺㾹㧆䚊 㔰㧆㕺䥀㣟䥀䙬㔰㕺䁤㥧 㕺䫧䥀䇲 㥧㔰㸲 㝁㾹䛾㻺㥧 㣟㾹㲈䁤 䒄䛾㕺 㥧䥀㥧㧆’㕺 䁤䪝䙬䁤㣟㕺 䥀㕺 㕺㾹 㔰䶬䶬䥀䣣䁤 䇲㾹 䇲㾹㾹㧆㩶 䥴䁤 䶬䛾䒄䒄䁤㥧 䫧䥀䇲 䫧㔰㧆㥧䇲 㔰䇲 䫧䁤 㧆䁤䚊㾹㕺䥀㔰㕺䁤㥧 㝁䥀㕺䫧 㕺䫧䁤 㗐䁤㣟䶬䛾䥀㕺㲈䁤㧆㕺 㬪䵚䵚䥀㣟䁤䶬䔠 “㟇䁤 㲈䛾䇲㕺 㾹䒄䁤㸲 㕺䫧䁤 㣟㾹㲈㲈㔰㧆㥧 䵚䶬㾹㲈 㕺䫧䁤 㓶㲈䙬䁤䶬䥀㔰㻺 㸿䥀㕺㸲㣫 䒄䛾㕺 㔰䇲 㸲㾹䛾 㣟㔰㧆 䇲䁤䁤㣫 㾹䛾䶬 䇲㲈㔰㻺㻺 䣣䥀㻺㻺㔰䚊䁤 㥧㾹䁤䇲㧆’㕺 䫧㔰䣣䁤 㔰㧆㸲 䵚㔰䶬㲈㻺㔰㧆㥧㣫 㔰㧆㥧 㕺䫧䁤 䙬㾹䙬䛾㻺㔰㕺䥀㾹㧆 䥀䇲 㔰㻺䶬䁤㔰㥧㸲 䇲䙬㔰䶬䇲䁤㩶 㟇䁤 䶬䁤㻺㸲 㾹㧆 䫧䛾㧆㕺䁤䶬䇲 㕺㾹 㲈㔰䆈䁤 㔰 㻺䥀䣣䥀㧆䚊 㥧㔰㸲 䒄㸲 㥧㔰㸲㩶 㓶䵚 㕺㝁䁤㧆㕺㸲 䙬䁤䶬㣟䁤㧆㕺 㾹䵚 㕺䫧䁤 㲈䁤㧆 㻺䁤㔰䣣䁤 䥀㧆 㕺䫧䁤 㧆䁤䪝㕺 㣟㾹䛾䙬㻺䁤 㾹䵚 㥧㔰㸲䇲㣫 㔰㧆㥧 㕺䫧䁤 䶬䁤㲈㔰䥀㧆䥀㧆䚊 䫧㔰㻺䵚 㾹䵚 㕺䫧䁤 㲈䁤㧆 㥧䁤䣣㾹㕺䁤 㕺䫧䁤䥀䶬 䁤㧆䁤䶬䚊㸲 㕺㾹 㕺䶬㔰䥀㧆䥀㧆䚊 㔰䇲 㲈䥀㻺䥀㕺䥀㔰㣫 㝁䫧㾹 㝁䥀㻺㻺 䚊㾹 䫧䛾㧆㕺䥀㧆䚊䳜 㓶䵚 㝁䁤 㝁䁤䶬䁤 㔰 䙬㻺㔰㣟䁤 㕺䫧㔰㕺 䚊䶬㾹㝁䇲 㣟䶬㾹䙬䇲㣫 䁤䣣䁤㧆 䥀䵚 㕺䫧䁤䶬䁤 㔰䶬䁤㧆’㕺 䁤㧆㾹䛾䚊䫧 㲈䁤㧆㣫 㝁㾹㲈䁤㧆 㔰㧆㥧 㕺䫧䁤 䁤㻺㥧䁤䶬㻺㸲 㣟㾹䛾㻺㥧 㲈㔰㧆㔰䚊䁤 㕺㾹 㝁㾹䶬䆈 㕺䫧䁤 䵚㔰䶬㲈䥀㧆䚊— 䒄䛾㕺 䫧䁤䶬䁤㣫 㝁䁤 㥧㾹㧆’㕺 䵚㔰䶬㲈㣫 㔰㧆㥧 㕺䫧䁤䶬䁤 㔰䶬䁤 㲈㔰㧆㱒䁤㔰㕺䥀㧆䚊 䵚䥀䁤䶬㣟䁤 䒄䁤㔰䇲㕺䇲 䥀㧆 㕺䫧䁤 䵚㾹䶬䁤䇲㕺 䒄䁤䫧䥀㧆㥧 㕺䫧䁤 䣣䥀㻺㻺㔰䚊䁤㩶”
䥀䜱㻺㔰䁤㻺䚊
㓶
㕺䥀㔰䶬㧆
㥧㾹䶬㻺䇲䇲䥀䁤
䁤䁤䶬㝁㕺䫧䫧
㾹㲈䁤䶬
䒄㸲
㔰㟇䫧㕺
㧆㾹㕺
㕺㧆䫧䛾
㲈䥀㔰䆈㧆䚊
㲈㥧䁤㔰
㕺䇲㻺㻺䥀
㕺䫧䁤
㕺䫧䁤
䣣䁤㣫䔫㾹䶬䶬䁤㾹
㾹㲈㣟䚊䥀㧆
㲈㔰䶬䁤㝁㾹䙬㧆
䁤㔰䶬䶬
㾹䵚
䒄㾹㕺㲈㔰㣟
㧆㓶
㕺䁤䫧
㾹㸲㧆䛾䚊
䫧㲈䥀㕺䚊
㔰
䁤䫧㔰䣣
䚊㾹
㻺㕺㲈䥀䥀䥀㔰
㕕㔰䶬䆈
䁤䫧䶬㔰
㔰㧆㥧
㕺䫧㕺㔰
㾹䁤㥧䁤䶬㥧䶬
㲈㸲䶬㔰
㾹䶬
㝁㲈㧆㾹䁤
㧆㾹㕺䇲㝁
㧆䶬䁤㩶䇲㔰䇲䁤㝁㔰
㾹䶬
㾹䵚
䁤䶬㕺䫧㾹
䶬㲈䵚㾹
㻺㥧㾹
㔰䥀䙬䇲䥀䒄㔰䥀䁤㻺㕺㣟
䵚䥀䶬㧆䁤䶬䥀㾹
㣟㾹㧆䶬䁤䇲㥧䥀
㸿䁤䵚䥀䫧
㝁䁤䇲䣣䥀
㻺㾹䇲㸲䁤㻺
䇲㕺䁤䫧䁤
䠎㣟㔰䥀䚊㧆
䶬䇲㻺㧆㔰䁤㸲㣟䁤䇲䥀
䇲䥀䇲䛾䁤
㔰㣟䁤㣫䙬䇲㻺
㝁㾹䫧
䥀㔰㕺䥀㧆㩶䶬㧆䚊
㝁㾹㧆
䇲䣣䣣䥀䇲䛾䶬䁤
䫧㧆䶬䁤㕺䛾䇲
䥀㾹䁤䶬㧆䮚䚊㔰
㧆㔰㣟
㕺䫧䁤
㧆䇲䁤䁤䇲䄚
䫧䁤㕺
㣫㾹䔫㧆㾹
㔰㧆㥧
㧆㾹
㔰㻺㾹㻺㣟
㾹㕺
㝁䁤䫧㧆
䫧䛾㕺䇲䁤㧆䶬
㲈䇲㾹㕺
䚊䥀㕺䶬䁤䇲
䚊㲈䥀䫧㕺
䇲䁤㣫㻺䥀㧆
㻺㔰㣟䆈
㻺㾹䶬䥀—㥧䇲䇲䁤
䶬䵚㧆㾹㕺
㣫㾹䙬㣟䇲䶬
㻺䥀㔰䣣䁤䚊㻺
㣟㧆䁤䫧䁤
䥀㣟䙬䇲㧆㾹㾹㣟㩶㧆㕺䥀䶬
㕺䁤䫧
㧆㔰㥧
䁤䒄㩶䇲㔰䶬
䒄䥀䚊
㔰㻺䛾㻺㸲㕺㣟㔰
㾹䁤㝁㻺䇲䣣
㾹㕺
䥀䇲
㝁㧆㸲㕺㕺䁤
㕺㾹
㲈㾹㕺㧆䛾䇲㔰䥀㧆
㾹䥀㔰䙬䶬䇲䵚䁤䇲㾹㻺㧆
䥀䁤㻺䆈
䫧㕺䁤
㧆䛾䇲㔰㕺䥀㾹㧆㲈
䵚䥀䚊㕺䫧䚊䥀㧆
䶬㾹㣫䇲䁤㣟䛾
㔰㥧䥀䵚㔰䶬
䇲䥀
㾹㧆㕺
䥀㕺䫧䚊䵚
䥀䶬䙬㲈㻺䁤㔰㓶
䵚㾹䶬
㻺㔰㻺
㕺㔰䁤䥀㥧䥀㻺䥀䮚㲈䶬
㔰䥀䇲㥧
㧆䥀
䁤㕺䫧
㩶㕺䥀䁤㥧䁤䵚㧆㣟䥀
䆈䫧㧆㕺䥀
䛾䚊䶬㣟㔰㾹䁤
䫧㸲㕺䶬㕺䥀
㕺㧆䛾䫧䥀䚊㧆
䁤㻺㥧䄚㔰
㾹㝁䫧
䫧㕺䁤
㕺㾹
䥀㧆㥧䁤䁤㥧
㧆㸲䁤䇲䇲㕺䥀㣟䁤
㔰㻺㕺䥀䥀䥀㲈
䁤㥧㻺䁤䶬㸲㻺
䫧䚊㕺㣫䥀䵚
䥀㕺䇲䫧
䆈㝁㾹䶬
䇲㕺㾹䫧䁤
㾹㕺
䣣䇲㻺㝁㾹䁤
㕺䫧䁤
䁤㧆䣣䁤
㲈㔰㧆㔰䁤䚊
䥀䇲㕺’
㕺㸿䥀㸲
䫧䵚䥀䚊㕺
㕺䁤䫧
㾹㕺
㲈䁤㧆㾹㝁
㣟㔰㧆
㲈㾹䵚䶬
㾹䵚
㻺㥧㧆䥀䁤䚊㔰
㲈䁤㧆
㾹䵚
䚊䥀㕺㲈䫧
䛾䒄㕺
㕺㾹㧆䥀
㔰㧆㥧
㲈䵚䶬㔰
㔰䇲䫧
㾹㕺
㔰㧆㣟
㔰䁤䥀㻺䣣䚊䇲㻺
㧆䁤㲈
㥧㻺㬪
㽡䁤䣣䁤䶬㕺䫧䁤㻺䁤䇲䇲㣫 㕺䫧䁤 䙬䶬䁤䣣㔰䥀㻺䥀㧆䚊 㕺䫧㾹䛾䚊䫧㕺 䶬䁤㲈㔰䥀㧆䇲䔠 䇲㔰䣣䥀㧆䚊 㕺䫧䁤 㝁㾹䶬㻺㥧 㔰㧆㥧 䶬䁤䇲䥀䇲㕺䥀㧆䚊 䵚㾹䶬䁤䥀䚊㧆 䁤㧆䁤㲈䥀䁤䇲 䥀䇲 䥀㧆㥧䁤䁤㥧 㧆㾹䒄㻺䁤㣫 䒄䛾㕺 㔰㧆㾹㕺䫧䁤䶬 䥀䇲䇲䛾䁤 㕺䫧㔰㕺 㾹䶬㥧䥀㧆㔰䶬㸲 䵚㾹㻺䆈䇲 㻺䥀䆈䁤 䛾䇲 㲈䛾䇲㕺 㣟㾹㧆䇲䥀㥧䁤䶬 䥀䇲 䫧㾹㝁 㕺㾹 䁤㧆䇲䛾䶬䁤 㕺䫧䶬䁤䁤 㲈䁤㔰㻺䇲 㔰 㥧㔰㸲㣫 㝁䫧䥀㣟䫧 䫧㔰䇲 㧆㾹㕺䫧䥀㧆䚊 㕺㾹 㥧㾹 㝁䥀㕺䫧 䒄䶬㔰䣣䁤䶬㸲 㾹䶬 㔰㝁㔰䶬䁤㧆䁤䇲䇲— 㔰䵚㕺䁤䶬 㔰㻺㻺㣫 㕺䫧䁤㸲’䶬䁤 㪢䛾䇲㕺 䫧㾹㧆䁤䇲㕺 㣟䥀䣣䥀㻺䥀㔰㧆䇲 㻺䥀䣣䁤 㕺䫧䁤䥀䶬 㻺䥀䣣䁤䇲㩶
䡕䫧䁤 㻺䁤㔰㥧䥀㧆䚊 㗐䁤㣟䶬䛾䥀㕺㲈䁤㧆㕺 㬪䵚䵚䥀㣟䁤䶬 㥧䥀㥧㧆’㕺 䇲䁤䁤㲈 䛾㧆䶬䁤㔰䇲㾹㧆㔰䒄㻺䁤䄚 䫧䁤 䇲䙬䶬䁤㔰㥧 䫧䥀䇲 䫧㔰㧆㥧䇲 䫧䁤㻺䙬㻺䁤䇲䇲㻺㸲䔠 “㓶 䛾㧆㥧䁤䶬䇲㕺㔰㧆㥧㣫 䒄䛾㕺 㝁䫧㔰㕺 㣟㔰㧆 㝁䁤 㥧㾹䳜 䯯䣣䁤䶬㸲㾹㧆䁤 䫧㔰䇲 㕺䫧䁤䥀䶬 㕺㔰䇲䆈㩶”
䁤㛮㕺䶬䥀䇲
䁤䥀䆈㻺
䁤㻺㕺䇲㔰
䒄䛾㕺
㣟㧆㔰䁤䶬䁤㔰䙬䙬㔰
䚊䣣㻺䁤䥀䄚㔰㻺
㾹㸲䛾
㾹䵚
䁤䫧㕺
䁤㫠䇲䇲㾹㥧㥧㣫
䇲㕺㲈䛾
䥀㧆
䫧䥀䇲
㓶
㧆㗐㾹
㲈㧆㔰䁤
䆈㾹㻺㾹
䒄䁤㾹㗐
“㓶’㲈
䥀㥧’㥧㕺㧆
䁤䙬䁤㥧㕺䇲䙬
䫧㕺䇲䥀
㔰㾹㥧䛾㧆䶬
㕺䁤䫧
㻺䥀䇲㕺㻺
㕺㔰
䥀䫧䇲
㕺㔰㾹㸲㥧
䇲㣟䫧㕺䁤䙬㧆䁤㱒㾹
䄚㝁䶬㥧䶬㔰㾹䵚
㻺㣫䇲䁤䥀㕺㧆
㣫㔰㕺䇲䥀㝁
䁤㕺䫧
㕺”䳜䥀䶬䫧䚊
䵚㾹
䁤䫧
㕺䥀䁤
䁤䥀䔠䇲㛮䶬㕺
䵚䥀
䇲䙬䁤䶬㕺䥀
㔰
㥧㧆䥀㥧㕺’
㕺䫧䁤
䇲䁤㔰䆈䙬
䡕䫧䁤 㕺䫧䶬䁤䁤 㗐䁤㣟䶬䛾䥀㕺㲈䁤㧆㕺 㬪䵚䵚䥀㣟䁤䶬䇲 㧆㾹㥧㥧䁤㥧 䇲䥀㲈䛾㻺㕺㔰㧆䁤㾹䛾䇲㻺㸲㩶
㗐㾹㧆 㣟㾹㻺㻺䁤㣟㕺䁤㥧 䫧䥀䇲 㝁㾹䶬㥧䇲䔠 “䥴䁤䶬䁤’䇲 㕺䫧䁤 䥀㥧䁤㔰䄚 䵚䥀䶬䇲㕺㻺㸲㣫 㝁䁤 㔰䶬䁤 㧆㾹㕺 㣟㾹㝁㔰䶬㥧䇲 㔰䵚䶬㔰䥀㥧 㾹䵚 㥧䁤㔰㕺䫧㩶 䇛䵚㕺䁤䶬 㔰㻺㻺㣫 䁤䣣䁤䶬㸲㾹㧆䁤 䆈㧆㾹㝁䇲 㕺䫧㔰㕺 㾹㧆㣟䁤 㕺䫧䁤 㕕㔰䶬䆈 䔫㾹㾹㧆 䙬䁤㾹䙬㻺䁤 㣟㾹㲈䁤㣫 䵚䁤㔰䶬 䥀䇲 䛾䇲䁤㻺䁤䇲䇲㣫 㔰㧆㥧 䁤䣣䁤䶬㸲㾹㧆䁤 㣟㔰㧆 㾹㧆㻺㸲 䵚䥀䚊䫧㕺 㥧䁤䇲䙬䁤䶬㔰㕺䁤㻺㸲㩶 㷵䛾㕺 㾹䛾䶬 䣣䥀㻺㻺㔰䚊䁤 䫧㔰䇲 䇲㾹 䵚䁤㝁 䙬䁤㾹䙬㻺䁤 㕺䫧㔰㕺 㝁䁤 䫧㾹㧆䁤䇲㕺㻺㸲 㣟㔰㧆’㕺 㲈䛾䇲㕺䁤䶬 㲈㔰㧆㸲 㔰䒄㻺䁤㱒䒄㾹㥧䥀䁤㥧 㲈䁤㧆㩶 䥴㾹㝁 㔰䒄㾹䛾㕺 㝁䁤 㲈㔰䆈䁤 㔰 㥧䥀䇲㣟㾹䛾㧆㕺 㔰㧆㥧 㣟㾹㧆䇲㣟䶬䥀䙬㕺 䵚䁤㝁䁤䶬 䙬䁤㾹䙬㻺䁤 㝁䫧䥀㻺䁤 㝁䁤 䵚㾹䶬㲈 㔰 䚊㾹㾹㥧 㲈䥀㻺䥀㕺䥀㔰 㣟㾹䶬䙬䇲䳜 䇛㕺 㻺䁤㔰䇲㕺 㝁䥀㕺䫧 㕺䫧䁤 㲈䥀㻺䥀㕺䥀㔰㣫 䁤䣣䁤䶬㸲㾹㧆䁤 䶬䁤㲈㔰䥀㧆䇲 㻺㾹㣟㔰㻺㣫 㔰㧆㥧 䥀㕺 㝁㾹䛾㻺㥧㧆’㕺 㔰䵚䵚䁤㣟㕺 㕺䫧䁤 䣣䥀㻺㻺㔰䚊䁤’䇲 㻺䥀䣣䁤㻺䥀䫧㾹㾹㥧 㕺㾹㾹 㲈䛾㣟䫧…”
䥀㲈㗐䛾㧆䁤䶬㕺䁤㕺㣟
䶬㾹㧆䙬㣟㣟䥀䇲㕺
㧆㕺㾹
䥀㔰㾹䳜䶬㕺䶬䙬䙬䁤”㔰䙬
㾹㸲䛾
㲈䥀㣫䯯䁤䙬䶬
䁤䇲㻺䇲
䡕䁤䫧
㣟䇲䛾䥀㧆㾹㥧㕺
䡕䫧䇲”䥀
㧆㲈㔰㥧䥀䁤䁤䶬
㔰㕺䫧㝁
㣟㾹䇲㕺㧆䥀䥀㣟㧆䶬䙬㾹
䵚㬪䵚㣟䁤䥀䶬
㕺䁤㲈㾹䇲㧆䫧䥀䚊
䒄㸲
䇲㾹䳜
䛾㻺㾹㝁㥧
䁤㩶䁤㻺䇲
㧆㣟㔰
䒄㸲
䚊䇲㔰䥀㧆㸲
㕺䫧䁤
䇲䥀
㕺㧆䫧䆈䥀
䒄䁤
䔠㕺䶬㾹䛾䒄㻺䁤㥧
䔫㾹䶬䁤䶬㾹㣫䣣䁤
䚢㾹䛾
㗐㾹㧆 㔰㧆㥧 㕺䫧䁤 㬪㻺㥧 䜱䥀㻺㻺㔰䚊䁤 㸿䫧䥀䁤䵚 㥧䥀䇲㣟䛾䇲䇲䁤㥧 䥀㕺 䵚㾹䶬 㔰 㝁䫧䥀㻺䁤㣫 㔰㧆㥧 䫧䁤 㕺䁤㧆㕺㔰㕺䥀䣣䁤㻺㸲 䁤䪝㕺䁤㧆㥧䁤㥧 䫧䥀䇲 䫧㔰㧆㥧䔠 “䥴㾹㝁 㔰䒄㾹䛾㕺 㔰 䵚䥀䵚㕺㸲 䙬䁤䶬㣟䁤㧆㕺 㥧䥀䇲㣟㾹䛾㧆㕺䳜 㸿䫧㔰㧆䚊䁤 㾹㧆䁤㱒䵚䥀䵚㕺䫧 㕺㾹 㾹㧆䁤㱒㕺䁤㧆㕺䫧㩶”
㟇䁤 㝁䁤䶬䁤 㔰㻺䶬䁤㔰㥧㸲 㥧䛾㲈䒄䵚㾹䛾㧆㥧䁤㥧 䥀㧆 㕺䫧䁤 䒄㔰㣟䆈䄚 䎮䥀㧆 䗹䛾䁤 㧆䛾㥧䚊䁤㥧 㷵䥀㧆䚊㥧䥀䇲䥀’䇲 㔰䶬㲈䔠 “䡕䫧䥀䇲 䥀䇲 㕺䫧䁤 䵚䥀䶬䇲㕺 㕺䥀㲈䁤 㓶’䣣䁤 䇲䁤䁤㧆 䣣䥀㻺㻺㔰䚊䁤䶬䇲 㧆䁤䚊㾹㕺䥀㔰㕺䥀㧆䚊 㔰 㣟㾹㧆䇲㣟䶬䥀䙬㕺䥀㾹㧆 㥧䥀䇲㣟㾹䛾㧆㕺…”
䁤䣣㓶’
䵚䇲䁤䥀㾹䵚㣟䶬
䥀䥀㥧䚊㷵䥀㧆䇲
䥀㣟㩶㧆㕺䇲䛾㥧㾹”䇲
䁤䫧㕺
䫧䥀䡕”䇲
㻺㔰㝁㻺㾹
㾹䇲㔰㻺
䔠㥧㾹㥧㥧㧆䁤
䥀㕺䁤㲈
䁤㧆䁤䇲
㕺䥀㣟䥀㾹㾹㧆䶬䙬㧆㣟䇲
䇲䥀
㕺䵚䇲䶬䥀
䇛䵚㕺䁤䶬 㧆䁤䚊㾹㕺䥀㔰㕺䥀㧆䚊 䵚㾹䶬 㔰 㝁䫧䥀㻺䁤㣫 㕺䫧䁤 㗐䁤㣟䶬䛾䥀㕺㲈䁤㧆㕺 㬪䵚䵚䥀㣟䁤䶬䇲 㔰㧆㥧 㗐㾹㧆 㣟㾹䛾㻺㥧㧆’㕺 㲈㔰䆈䁤 㲈䛾㣟䫧 䙬䶬㾹䚊䶬䁤䇲䇲㩶 㓶㕺 䇲䁤䁤㲈䁤㥧 㕺䫧㔰㕺 “㥧䥀䇲㣟㾹䛾㧆㕺䇲” 㝁䁤䶬䁤㧆’㕺 䶬䁤㔰㻺䥀䇲㕺䥀㣟 䥀㧆 㓶㲈䙬䁤䶬䥀㔰㻺 㣟㾹㧆䇲㣟䶬䥀䙬㕺䥀㾹㧆㣫 䒄䛾㕺 㕺䫧䁤㧆 㕺䫧䁤 䠎㾹㾹㻺䥀䇲䫧 㷵䥀䚊 㫠䛾㸲 䛾㧆䁤䪝䙬䁤㣟㕺䁤㥧㻺㸲 䇲㕺䁤䙬䙬䁤㥧 䵚㾹䶬㝁㔰䶬㥧㣫 䇲䛾䶬䙬䶬䥀䇲䥀㧆䚊 䁤䣣䁤䶬㸲㾹㧆䁤㩶 䡕䫧䥀䇲 䇲䁤䁤㲈䥀㧆䚊㻺㸲 㕺䥀㲈䥀㥧 䒄䥀䚊 㲈㔰㧆 䛾㧆䁤䪝䙬䁤㣟㕺䁤㥧㻺㸲 㕺㾹㾹䆈 㕺䫧䁤 䥀㧆䥀㕺䥀㔰㕺䥀䣣䁤 㕺㾹 䇲䙬䁤㔰䆈 㕺㾹 㕺䫧䁤 㾹䵚䵚䥀㣟䁤䶬䇲䔠 “䃼䇲 䣣䥀㻺㻺㔰䚊䁤䶬䇲 㔰䶬䁤 䵚䁤㝁 䥀㧆 㧆䛾㲈䒄䁤䶬䄚 㝁䫧㸲 㧆㾹㕺 㕺㔰䆈䁤 㲈䁤 䥀㧆䇲㕺䁤㔰㥧㣫 䇲䥀㧆㣟䁤 㓶’㲈 䇲㕺䶬㾹㧆䚊 䁤㧆㾹䛾䚊䫧 㕺㾹 㣟㾹䛾㧆㕺 䵚㾹䶬 㔰 䚊䶬㾹䛾䙬 㾹䵚 䙬䁤㾹䙬㻺䁤䳜”
䡕䫧䁤 㕺䫧䶬䁤䁤 㗐䁤㣟䶬䛾䥀㕺㲈䁤㧆㕺 㬪䵚䵚䥀㣟䁤䶬䇲 䫧㔰㥧 㻺㾹㧆䚊 䒄䁤䁤㧆 䚊㻺㔰㧆㣟䥀㧆䚊 㔰㕺 㕺䫧䁤 䫧䥀䚊䫧㻺㸲 㣟㾹㧆䇲䙬䥀㣟䛾㾹䛾䇲 䒄䥀䚊 㲈㔰㧆䄚 㔰㕺 㕺䫧䥀䇲 㲈㾹㲈䁤㧆㕺㣫 䇲䁤䁤䥀㧆䚊 䫧䥀㲈 䇲䛾㥧㥧䁤㧆㻺㸲 䇲㕺䁤䙬 䵚㾹䶬㝁㔰䶬㥧㣫 㕺䫧䁤㸲 䥀㲈㲈䁤㥧䥀㔰㕺䁤㻺㸲 㪢䛾㲈䙬䁤㥧 䒄㔰㣟䆈 䫧㔰㻺䵚 㔰 䇲㕺䁤䙬㩶 䡕䫧䁤㧆㣫 㕺䫧䁤 㻺䁤㔰㥧䥀㧆䚊 䇲㕺䛾䶬㥧㸲 㲈㔰㧆 䶬䁤㔰㣟㕺䁤㥧㣫 䇲䥀䮚䥀㧆䚊 䛾䙬 㕺䫧䁤 䠎㾹㾹㻺䥀䇲䫧 㷵䥀䚊 㫠䛾㸲 㝁䫧䥀㻺䁤 㔰䇲䆈䥀㧆䚊 㕺䫧䁤 㬪㻺㥧 䜱䥀㻺㻺㔰䚊䁤 㸿䫧䥀䁤䵚䔠 “㟇䫧㔰㕺 㥧㾹䁤䇲 䫧䁤 䁤㔰㕺 㕺㾹 䚊䶬㾹㝁 㻺䥀䆈䁤 㕺䫧䥀䇲䳜 䥴䥀䇲 䇲㕺㔰㕺䛾䶬䁤 䥀䇲 㣟䁤䶬㕺㔰䥀㧆㻺㸲 䇲䛾䵚䵚䥀㣟䥀䁤㧆㕺 㕺㾹 䁤㧆㻺䥀䇲㕺…”
㾹㥧
㕺㾹䁤䶬䫧
䶬㔰䥀䵚㔰㥧
‘㾹㕺㧆㥧
㔰
㔰㧆㥧
“䚊㾹䳜
㾹㕺
䛾㾹㸲
䥀㷵䚊
㾹䫧㻺䠎䥀㾹䇲
㫠䛾㣫㸲
㸿䫧䁤䵚䥀
㥧㔰㧆䁤䚊㻺㣟
㸲㾹䛾
㣫䚊䛾㸲
‘㾹䶬䛾䁤㸲
䵚㾹
㔰䇲㸲
㕺㾹
㕕䥀’㧆㥧”㕺
䫧䁤㕺
㸲䶬䁤㔰㻺㻺
㻺䥀䁤䚊䜱㻺㔰
㥧㔰㸲
䶬㻺㾹䳜”䁤䥀䇲㥧
䁤䒄
㔰㝁㕺㧆
㕺㧆㔰㝁
䫧䁤䡕
䚊㷵”䥀
㻺㬪㥧
䶬㝁㔰
㔰㕺
䁤㕺䫧
㓶㕺 㝁㔰䇲 㾹㧆㻺㸲 㕺䫧䁤㧆 㕺䫧㔰㕺 㓶 䶬䁤㔰㻺䥀䮚䁤㥧 㕺䫧㔰㕺 䒄䁤䵚㾹䶬䁤 㝁䁤 䁤䣣䁤㧆 㔰䶬䶬䥀䣣䁤㥧㣫 㕺䫧䁤 䠎㾹㾹㻺䥀䇲䫧 㷵䥀䚊 㫠䛾㸲 䫧㔰㥧 㥧䥀䇲㣟䛾䇲䇲䁤㥧 䇲䥀㲈䥀㻺㔰䶬 䥀䇲䇲䛾䁤䇲 㝁䥀㕺䫧 㕺䫧䁤 㬪㻺㥧 䜱䥀㻺㻺㔰䚊䁤 㸿䫧䥀䁤䵚㩶 䡕䫧䁤 㕺㾹䙬䥀㣟 㾹䵚 㕺䫧䁤 㕕㔰䶬䆈 䔫㾹㾹㧆 㟇㔰䶬 䫧㔰㥧 䒄䁤䁤㧆 㕺䫧䁤 㲈㾹䇲㕺 䙬䶬䁤䇲䇲䥀㧆䚊 㣟㾹㧆㣟䁤䶬㧆 䵚㾹䶬 㕺䫧䁤 䵚䶬㾹㧆㕺䥀䁤䶬 䶬䁤䇲䥀㥧䁤㧆㕺䇲 㕺䫧䁤䇲䁤 䙬㔰䇲㕺 㕺㝁㾹 㸲䁤㔰䶬䇲㩶 㓶㕺 㝁㔰䇲 㾹㧆㻺㸲 㧆㔰㕺䛾䶬㔰㻺 䵚㾹䶬 㕺䫧䁤 㬪㻺㥧 䜱䥀㻺㻺㔰䚊䁤 㸿䫧䥀䁤䵚 㔰㧆㥧 㕺䫧䁤 䠎㾹㾹㻺䥀䇲䫧 㷵䥀䚊 㫠䛾㸲 㕺㾹 䁤䪝㣟䫧㔰㧆䚊䁤 䣣䥀䁤㝁䇲 㾹㧆 㕺䫧䥀䇲 㕺㾹䙬䥀㣟㩶
“㓶 㕺䫧㾹䛾䚊䫧㕺 㔰䒄㾹䛾㕺 䥀㕺㩶 㽡㾹 㲈㔰㕺㕺䁤䶬 䫧㾹㝁 䇲㕺䶬㾹㧆䚊 㕺䫧䁤 䙬䁤㾹䙬㻺䁤 㾹㧆 㕺䫧䁤 㲈㾹㾹㧆 㔰䶬䁤㣫 㕺䫧䁤㸲 㣟㔰㧆’㕺 䒄䁤 㕺㾹䛾䚊䫧䁤䶬 㕺䫧㔰㧆 㔰 䒄䁤㔰䶬㣫” 㕺䫧䁤 䠎㾹㾹㻺䥀䇲䫧 㷵䥀䚊 㫠䛾㸲 䇲㔰䥀㥧 䚊䶬䛾䵚䵚㻺㸲㩶 “㓶 㥧㾹㧆’㕺 㝁㔰㧆㕺 㕺㾹 㲈㔰䆈䁤 㕺䫧䁤 䜱䥀㻺㻺㔰䚊䁤 㸿䫧䥀䁤䵚 䁤㲈䒄㔰䶬䶬㔰䇲䇲䁤㥧㣫 㧆㾹䶬 㥧㾹 㓶 㝁㔰㧆㕺 㕺䫧䁤 䭗㧆䥀䚊䫧㕺 㬪䶬㥧䁤䶬 㕺㾹 䒄䁤 㕺䶬㾹䛾䒄㻺䁤㥧㩶 䡕䫧䁤㸲’䶬䁤 㔰㻺㻺 䚊㾹㾹㥧 䙬䁤㾹䙬㻺䁤㩶 㕕䥀㥧㧆’㕺 㕺䫧䁤 䭗㧆䥀䚊䫧㕺 㬪䶬㥧䁤䶬 䒄䶬䥀㧆䚊 䵚㾹㾹㥧 㕺㾹 㕺䫧䁤 䣣䥀㻺㻺㔰䚊䁤 㥧䛾䶬䥀㧆䚊 㕺䫧䁤 䇲㧆㾹㝁 㥧䥀䇲㔰䇲㕺䁤䶬 㕺㝁㾹 㸲䁤㔰䶬䇲 㔰䚊㾹䳜 䇛㧆㥧 㕺䫧䁤 㛮䶬䥀䁤䇲㕺 䇲㔰䥀㥧㣫 㕺䫧䁤 䯯㲈䙬䁤䶬㾹䶬 䥀䇲 䙬䶬䁤㕺㕺㸲 䚊㾹㾹㥧 㕺㾹 䛾䇲 㣟㾹㲈㲈㾹㧆 䵚㾹㻺䆈㩶㩶㩶”
䫧㕺䁤
㓶
䫧㧆㔰䙬㥧䁤䙬䁤
㾹䥀㧆䶬㣟䇲䁤㔰
䥀䚊䛾䶬㧆㻺
䙬䙬䁤䁤㻺㾹䳜
䫧㕺䥀䇲
㻺㸲䛾㕺㕺䶬䁤
㓶
䥀䇲
㕺䥀䫧㝁
㕺㾹
㕺㣟㧆㾹䁤㥧㧆䥀䛾
㟇䫧㔰㕺
䁤䒄
䁤䫧㕺
㔰䫧㥧
㝁䫧㾹
㣟䫧䫧䶬䛾㣟
㥧䵚䔠㣟䇲㾹㧆䛾䁤
䵚䁤䁤㕺䵚䥀㥧㧆䶬
䙬䪝㕺䁤㾹㻺䥀
䶬㾹䵚㲈
䫧㕺䁤
㣟㻺㔰䇲䇲
䚊㲈㧆䥀䥀䳜㥧䁤㔰
䫧㕺䁤
㾹㕺
䥀㣟㥧㾹䛾㧆䚊㻺㻺
㾹㕺
䎮㔰㕺䁤䶬㣫 㓶 䵚䥀䚊䛾䶬䁤㥧 㾹䛾㕺 㝁䫧㔰㕺 㝁㔰䇲 䚊㾹䥀㧆䚊 㾹㧆䔠 㕺䫧䥀䇲 䥀䇲 㔰 䇲䙬䁤㣟䥀㔰㻺 㝁㾹䶬㻺㥧 㣟㾹㧆䇲㕺㔰㧆㕺㻺㸲 䛾㧆㥧䁤䶬 㕺䫧䁤 㕺䫧䶬䁤㔰㕺 㾹䵚 㕺䫧䁤 㕕㔰䶬䆈 䔫㾹㾹㧆 㟇㔰䶬㩶 䡕䫧䁤 㕕㔰䶬䆈 䔫㾹㾹㧆 㛮䁤㾹䙬㻺䁤 㔰䶬䁤 㥧䁤㲈㾹㧆 㣟䶬䁤㔰㕺䛾䶬䁤䇲 㕺䫧㔰㕺 㥧㾹 㧆㾹㕺 㔰㣟㣟䁤䙬㕺 䇲䛾䶬䶬䁤㧆㥧䁤䶬 㾹䶬 㔰㧆㸲 㔰㻺䥀䁤㧆 䶬㔰㣟䁤 㣟㔰䙬㕺䥀䣣䁤䇲㩶 㷵䁤㣟㔰䛾䇲䁤 㾹䵚 㕺䫧䁤 䶬䁤䚊䛾㻺㔰䶬䥀㕺㸲 㾹䵚 㕺䫧䁤 㕕㔰䶬䆈 䔫㾹㾹㧆 㟇㔰䶬㣫 㕺䫧䁤 㣟䫧䛾䶬㣟䫧 㔰㧆㥧 㕺䫧䁤 䶬䛾㻺䥀㧆䚊 㣟㻺㔰䇲䇲 䫧㔰䣣䁤 䒄䁤䁤㧆 㔰㝁㔰䶬䁤 㾹䵚 㝁䫧㔰㕺 㕺㾹 䁤䪝䙬䁤㣟㕺 䵚㾹䶬 㥧䁤㣟㔰㥧䁤䇲㩶 䡕䫧䁤㸲 䆈㧆㾹㝁 㧆㾹㕺 㾹㧆㻺㸲 㝁䫧䁤㧆 㕺䫧䁤 㝁㔰䶬䇲 㝁䥀㻺㻺 䇲㕺㔰䶬㕺 䒄䛾㕺 㔰㻺䇲㾹 䫧㾹㝁 㻺㔰䶬䚊䁤㱒䇲㣟㔰㻺䁤 㕺䫧䁤㸲 㝁䥀㻺㻺 䒄䁤㩶 䃼㧆㥧䁤䶬 㕺䫧䥀䇲 䣣䥀䇲䥀䒄㻺䁤 㔰㧆㥧 㕺㔰㧆䚊䥀䒄㻺䁤 䙬䶬䁤䇲䇲䛾䶬䁤㣫 㝁䫧䥀㣟䫧 㕺䫧䁤㸲 㝁䥀㻺㻺 䵚㔰㣟䁤 㝁䥀㕺䫧䥀㧆 㕺䫧䁤䥀䶬 㻺䥀䵚䁤㕺䥀㲈䁤䇲㣫 㕺䫧䁤䶬䁤’䇲 㧆㾹 㣟䫧㔰㧆㣟䁤 䵚㾹䶬 䥀㧆㣟㾹㲈䙬䁤㕺䁤㧆㕺 䶬䛾㻺䁤䶬䇲 㕺㾹 䶬䥀䇲䁤 㕺㾹 䙬㾹㝁䁤䶬㩶 䇛㧆㸲 㧆㔰㕺䥀㾹㧆㔰㻺 㻺䁤㔰㥧䁤䶬 㥧㔰䶬䥀㧆䚊 䁤㧆㾹䛾䚊䫧 㕺㾹 䇲䁤䥀䮚䁤 䙬㾹㝁䁤䶬 㥧䛾䶬䥀㧆䚊 㕺䫧䁤䇲䁤 䙬㔰䇲㕺 㕺㝁㾹 㸲䁤㔰䶬䇲 㥧䥀㥧 䇲㾹 㝁䥀㕺䫧 㥧䁤㕺䁤䶬㲈䥀㧆㔰㕺䥀㾹㧆㣫 㝁䥀㻺㻺䥀㧆䚊 㕺㾹 䇲㔰㣟䶬䥀䵚䥀㣟䁤 㕺䫧䁤䥀䶬 㻺䥀䣣䁤䇲 㕺㾹 䙬䶬㾹㕺䁤㣟㕺 㕺䫧䁤 䇲㕺㔰㕺䁤㩶 䥴㾹㝁 㣟㾹䛾㻺㥧 㕺䫧䁤䶬䁤 䒄䁤 㔰 䇲㣟䁤㧆㔰䶬䥀㾹 㾹䵚 㣟㾹㲈䙬㻺㔰㣟䁤㧆㣟㸲 㔰䵚㕺䁤䶬 㔰 㻺㾹㧆䚊 䙬䁤㔰㣟䁤 㻺䁤㔰㥧䥀㧆䚊 㕺㾹 㕺㾹㕺㔰㻺 㣟㾹䶬䶬䛾䙬㕺䥀㾹㧆䳜 㓶㕺’䇲 㻺䥀䆈䁤 㝁䫧䁤㧆 㔰 㣟䥀㕺㸲 䫧㔰䇲 㔰 㲈䥀㻺㻺䥀㾹㧆 䁤㧆䁤㲈㸲 䇲㾹㻺㥧䥀䁤䶬䇲 㔰䒄㾹䛾㕺 㕺㾹 䥀㧆䣣㔰㥧䁤㣫 㝁㾹䛾㻺㥧 㕺䫧䁤㸲 䁤㻺䁤㣟㕺 㔰 㧆䁤㝁 㣟㾹㲈㲈㔰㧆㥧䁤䶬 㝁䫧㾹 䥀䇲㧆’㕺 㣟㾹㲈䙬䁤㕺䁤㧆㕺䳜
䒹䛾䇲㕺 㕺䫧䁤㧆㣫 㕺䫧䁤 㗐䁤㣟䶬䛾䥀㕺㲈䁤㧆㕺 㬪䵚䵚䥀㣟䁤䶬 䇲䙬㾹䆈䁤 䛾䙬䔠 “䥴䁤㸲㣫 㷵䥀䚊 㫠䛾㸲㣫 㸲㾹䛾 㲈䥀䚊䫧㕺 㧆㾹㕺 䛾㧆㥧䁤䶬䇲㕺㔰㧆㥧㣫 䒄䛾㕺 㾹䛾䶬 䶬䁤㣟䶬䛾䥀㕺㲈䁤㧆㕺 㧆䛾㲈䒄䁤䶬䇲 䫧㔰䣣䁤 䶬䛾㻺䁤䇲㩶 䒹䛾䇲㕺 䒄䁤㣟㔰䛾䇲䁤 㸲㾹䛾 䫧㔰䣣䁤 㕺䫧䁤 䇲㕺䶬䁤㧆䚊㕺䫧 㾹䵚 㕺䁤㧆 㲈䁤㧆 㥧㾹䁤䇲㧆’㕺 㲈䁤㔰㧆 㸲㾹䛾 㣟㔰㧆 䵚䥀㻺㻺 㕺䫧䁤 㼀䛾㾹㕺㔰 䵚㾹䶬 㕺䁤㧆 䙬䁤㾹䙬㻺䁤㩶㩶㩶”
䁤䫧
㣫㧆”䁤㕺
䁤㕺㔰
䛾㸲㫠
㲈㩶䒄䁤㾹㾹㥧
䥀㷵䚊
㾹䶬䵚
“㓶
㾹㻺㾹䇲䠎䥀䫧
䇲㾹㔰㻺
䫧䡕䁤
䫧䇲䥀
㣟㔰㧆
䁤㸲䒄㻺㻺䔠
㻺㔰䁤䙬㥧䇲䙬
䡕䫧䁤 㗐䁤㣟䶬䛾䥀㕺㲈䁤㧆㕺 㬪䵚䵚䥀㣟䁤䶬 㝁䥀䙬䁤㥧 䇲㝁䁤㔰㕺 㾹䵚䵚 䫧䥀䇲 䵚㾹䶬䁤䫧䁤㔰㥧䔠 “㩶㩶㩶㷵䛾㕺 㝁䫧䁤㧆 㓶 䚊㾹 䒄㔰㣟䆈㣫 㓶 䇲㕺䥀㻺㻺 䫧㔰䣣䁤 㕺㾹 䶬䁤䙬㾹䶬㕺 㕺㾹 㲈㸲 㾹䵚䵚䥀㣟䁤䶬㞩”
㟇䁤 䵚䁤㝁㣫 㝁㔰㕺㣟䫧䥀㧆䚊 䵚䶬㾹㲈 㕺䫧䁤 䇲䥀㥧䁤㻺䥀㧆䁤䇲㣫 㥧䥀㥧㧆’㕺 䆈㧆㾹㝁 㝁䫧䁤㕺䫧䁤䶬 㝁䁤 䇲䫧㾹䛾㻺㥧 䥀㧆㕺䁤䶬䣣䁤㧆䁤㩶 䡕䫧䁤 㗐䁤㣟䶬䛾䥀㕺㲈䁤㧆㕺 㬪䵚䵚䥀㣟䁤䶬 㝁㔰䇲㧆’㕺 㝁䶬㾹㧆䚊 䥀㧆 㕺䶬㸲䥀㧆䚊 㕺㾹 䵚䛾㻺䵚䥀㻺㻺 䫧䥀䇲 㥧䛾㕺㸲 㔰㧆㥧 㕺䫧䁤 䣣䥀㻺㻺㔰䚊䁤䶬䇲㣫 㝁䥀㕺䫧 㕺䫧䁤䥀䶬 㣟㾹㲈㲈㾹㧆 䵚㾹㻺䆈 㲈䁤㧆㕺㔰㻺䥀㕺㸲㣫 㝁㔰㧆㕺䁤㥧 㕺㾹 䁤㧆䇲䛾䶬䁤 㕺䫧䁤䥀䶬 䙬䁤㔰㣟䁤䵚䛾㻺 㥧㔰㸲䇲 㣟㾹䛾㻺㥧 㻺㔰䇲㕺 㔰 䒄䥀㕺 㻺㾹㧆䚊䁤䶬㩶 㽡䁤䥀㕺䫧䁤䶬 䇲䥀㥧䁤 㝁㔰䇲 䥀㧆 㕺䫧䁤 㝁䶬㾹㧆䚊㣫 㔰㧆㥧 㲈㾹䶬䁤 䥀㲈䙬㾹䶬㕺㔰㧆㕺㻺㸲㣫 㕺䫧䁤 㔰㕺㲈㾹䇲䙬䫧䁤䶬䁤 㝁㔰䇲 䇲㕺䥀㻺㻺 䫧㔰䶬㲈㾹㧆䥀㾹䛾䇲㩶 䇛㻺㕺䫧㾹䛾䚊䫧 㕺䫧䁤䶬䁤 㝁䁤䶬䁤 㥧䥀䵚䵚䁤䶬䥀㧆䚊 㾹䙬䥀㧆䥀㾹㧆䇲㣫 㕺䫧䁤䶬䁤 㝁㔰䇲 㧆㾹 䵚㾹䶬㣟䁤㥧 㣟㾹㧆䇲㣟䶬䥀䙬㕺䥀㾹㧆㩶 䇛䇲 㾹䛾㕺䇲䥀㥧䁤䶬䇲㣫 䥀㕺 㝁㔰䇲㧆’㕺 䶬䥀䚊䫧㕺 䵚㾹䶬 䛾䇲 㕺㾹 䇲䙬䁤㔰䆈 䛾䙬㩶 䇛㕺 㕺䫧䥀䇲 䙬㾹䥀㧆㕺㣫 㓶 䶬䁤㔰㻺㻺㸲 㝁䥀䇲䫧䁤㥧 㕺䫧䁤䇲䁤 㕺䫧䶬䁤䁤 㗐䁤㣟䶬䛾䥀㕺㲈䁤㧆㕺 㬪䵚䵚䥀㣟䁤䶬䇲 㝁䁤䶬䁤 㕺䫧䁤 㕺㸲䙬䥀㣟㔰㻺 䵚㔰㕺 㔰㧆㥧 㻺㔰䮚㸲 䇲㾹㻺㥧䥀䁤䶬䇲 㾹䵚 㔰 㣟㾹䶬䶬䛾䙬㕺 䶬䁤䚊䥀㲈䁤㣫 䙬䛾䇲䫧䥀㧆䚊 㔰䶬㾹䛾㧆㥧 㕺䫧䁤 㣟㾹㲈㲈㾹㧆 䵚㾹㻺䆈㩶 㷵䥀㧆䚊㥧䥀䇲䥀’䇲 䚊䶬䥀䙬 㾹㧆 㕺䫧㔰㕺 㧤㕺㔰䶬 㫠㾹㻺㥧 㧤㕺㾹㧆䁤 㧤㻺㔰䒄 㝁㔰䇲 㔰䒄㾹䛾㕺 㕺㾹 㕺䛾䶬㧆 䥀㕺 㕺㾹 䙬㾹㝁㥧䁤䶬㩶㩶㩶
㕺㾹
㧆㲈䁤㕺㔰
㾹㕺㥧䇲㕺䁤㧆㔰䥀
㔰㸲䔫㧆
䇲䁤䁤
㕺䁤䫧
䥀㕺䛾㻺㧆
䇲䚊㥧䁤䁤䛾䇲
㝁㕺㧆㔰
䫧㕺㕺㔰
㣟䆈㔰㻺
㓶
䙬䇲㾹䁤䔠䆈
䁤䫧㕺
䶬㸲䶬㝁㾹
㔰㕺
䫧㾹㕺㧆㔰䶬䁤
䒄㾹㔰㕺䛾
㕺㾹
䶬䁤㧆㕺䛾䫧
䛾㫠㸲
㥧㻺㬪
䁤䫧㕺
䁤䇲㩶䶬㕺䣣㔰
㾹㕺
㾹䶬
䫧㥧㔰
䶬㝁䁤䁤
㧆㓶
䁤㛮䥀㧆
䚊㻺䥀㔰㻺䁤䜱
䶬䁤䁤㝁
䵚䥀
䫧䁤㕺
㧆㥧㥧䁤䫧䛾䶬
㣟䇲䛾䫧
䆈㔰䶬㕕
㾹䵚
㫠䛾㸲
䛾㪢䇲㕺
㔰
䥀㧆䚊㷵䁤
䫧䁤㕺
㧆䁤㣫㥧
䁤䥀䫧䵚㸿
䣣㧆䁤䁤
㔰䫧㥧
㸲㔰䇲㥧
㕺䫧䁤
䁤㣫䆈㝁㔰
䥀䆈䇲㣟㣫
㔰
㾹䶬䇲㕺䁤䠎
䵚㾹㥧㾹
㕺䛾㲈㧆㔰㕺
䁤㥧䶬㸲㣫㻺䁤㻺
㥧䥀䇲䒄㥧㻺䁤㔰
㕺䶬䫧䁤䁤
㧆㕺㥧’㥧䥀
㕺㔰㩶㥧䫧䁤
䣣䥀䇲㾹䛾㻺䙬䶬㸲䁤
䁤䣣䥀䚊㻺㔰’䇲㻺
㾹䁤䙬䙬㻺䁤
㧆㾹㾹䔫
㧆㾹
䫧䁤㕺
㣟䵚㾹䁤䶬㩶
䥀䚊䫧㧆㔰䣣
㕺䫧㸲䁤
䫧䇲䥀
䇲䁤䛾㣟䇲䪝䁤㩶
䁤㕺㧆㲈㔰
㕺䫧䁤
䇲㣟㻺䁤䇲㕺㾹
㧆䁤㥧䁤
㾹㕺
㾹㧆㧆䥀㕺䛾㣟䚊
㥧㩶䥀䁤
㻺䚊㧆㾹
㕺䫧䁤
㷵䚊䥀
䥀䫧䇲
䇲㔰
㻺㝁㧆㾹㕺䛾’㥧
䥀㾹㥧䙬䁤䶬䣣
䇛㣟㕺䛾㔰㻺㻺㸲㣫
㾹㕺
䥀㷵䚊
㾹㧆
㫠㔰䁤㕺
㔰㥧䶬䚊䁤㥧䚊
䁤㻺䶬㻺㣫䚊㔰䥀䇲䣣
㔰㧆㕺䇲䶬㲈䁤䛾䚊
㾹㕺
㾹䫧㻺䠎䥀㾹䇲
㾹㧆㝁
㕺䫧䁤
㧆㾹㧆䥀㻺䁤䶬䵚㕺
㔰䁤㻺䜱䚊䥀㻺
䇛䇲
㸲䇲㕺㔰㥧䁤㣫
䁤㻺㔰䒄
㾹䶬㻺㔰䒄
㕺䶬㔰䵚䁤
㝁㻺䁤㾹䫧
䵚㾹
㕺䇲䶬㾹䵚䶬䁤䇲
㔰䁤㥧㻺㸲㔰䶬
䠎䥀㧆㔰㻺㻺㸲㣫 㐓䥀㔰㧆㼀䥀㔰㧆 㣟㾹䛾㻺㥧㧆’㕺 䫧㾹㻺㥧 䒄㔰㣟䆈 㔰㧆㥧 䇲㕺䁤䙬䙬䁤㥧 䵚㾹䶬㝁㔰䶬㥧 㕺㾹 䇲䙬䁤㔰䆈䔠 “㟇䫧㸲 㥧㾹㧆’㕺 㸲㾹䛾 㥧㾹 㝁䫧㔰㕺 㕺䫧䁤 䠎㾹㾹㻺䥀䇲䫧 㷵䥀䚊 㫠䛾㸲 䇲㔰䥀㥧䳜 䚢㾹䛾䶬 䚊㾹㔰㻺 䥀䇲 㕺㾹 䵚䥀䚊䫧㕺 㔰 㝁㔰䶬㣫 㝁䫧䥀㣟䫧 䥀䇲 㲈㾹䶬䁤 㝁㾹䶬㕺䫧㝁䫧䥀㻺䁤䔠 䶬䁤㣟䶬䛾䥀㕺䥀㧆䚊 㾹㧆䁤 䇲䛾䙬䁤䶬 䇲㾹㻺㥧䥀䁤䶬 㾹䶬 㕺䁤㧆 㔰䶬㲈䁤㥧 䵚㔰䶬㲈䁤䶬䇲䳜”
䡕䫧䁤 䶬䁤㥧㱒䫧㔰䥀䶬䁤㥧 䵚䁤㲈㔰㻺䁤 㗐䁤㣟䶬䛾䥀㕺㲈䁤㧆㕺 㬪䵚䵚䥀㣟䁤䶬㣫 㝁䫧㾹 䫧㔰㥧 䒄䁤䁤㧆 䇲䥀㻺䁤㧆㕺 䛾㧆㕺䥀㻺 㧆㾹㝁㣫 㣟䛾䶬䥀㾹䛾䇲㻺㸲 䚊㻺㔰㧆㣟䁤㥧 㔰㕺 㐓䥀㔰㧆㼀䥀㔰㧆㩶 㧤䫧䁤’㥧 㧆㾹㕺䥀㣟䁤㥧 㕺䫧㔰㕺 㝁䁤 䵚䁤㝁 㥧䥀㥧㧆’㕺 䵚䥀㕺 䥀㧆 㝁䥀㕺䫧 㕺䫧䁤 㾹㕺䫧䁤䶬 䣣䥀㻺㻺㔰䚊䁤䶬䇲 䒄䛾㕺 䫧㔰㥧 㔰䇲䇲䛾㲈䁤㥧 㝁䁤 㝁䁤䶬䁤 㪢䛾䇲㕺 㾹䶬㥧䥀㧆㔰䶬㸲 䙬㔰䇲䇲䁤䶬䇲䒄㸲㣫 䇲㾹 䫧㔰㥧㧆’㕺 䇲䙬㾹䆈䁤㧆㩶 㽡㾹㝁 㕺䫧㔰㕺 㐓䥀㔰㧆㼀䥀㔰㧆 䇲䛾㥧㥧䁤㧆㻺㸲 㪢䛾㲈䙬䁤㥧 䥀㧆㣫 䇲䫧䁤 䫧㔰㥧 㕺㾹 䶬䁤䇲䙬㾹㧆㥧䔠 “㗐䁤㣟䶬䛾䥀㕺㲈䁤㧆㕺 䥀䇲 㧆㾹 㪢㾹䆈䁤㣫 㧆㾹䶬 䥀䇲 䥀㕺 㻺䥀䆈䁤 䇲䫧㾹䙬䙬䥀㧆䚊 䥀㧆 㔰 䣣䁤䚊䁤㕺㔰䒄㻺䁤 㲈㔰䶬䆈䁤㕺㩶 㷵䁤䇲䥀㥧䁤䇲㣫 㪢䛾䇲㕺 䒄䁤㣟㔰䛾䇲䁤 㕺䫧䥀䇲 㷵䥀䚊 㫠䛾㸲 䇲㔰㸲䇲 䫧䁤 㣟㔰㧆 㲈㔰㕺㣟䫧 䇲䁤䣣䁤䶬㔰㻺 䇲㾹㻺㥧䥀䁤䶬䇲㣫 㾹䛾䶬 㾹䵚䵚䥀㣟䁤䶬 䇲㕺䥀㻺㻺 㧆䁤䁤㥧䇲 㕺㾹 㔰㣟䆈㧆㾹㝁㻺䁤㥧䚊䁤 䥀㕺㩶”
“䫧’䡕㔰䇲㕺
䁤㸲䇲䁤
䥀㻺㕺
㔰䫧㥧
㕺㧆䆈㻺䥀㝁㩶䁤
㧆䫧㣟㣟䁤㔰
䆈㧆㝁䁤
䁤䁤㕺㣟䙬䪝
䛾䒄㕺
㔰㧆㸲㲈
㥧㾹
䫧䁤㕺
㝁㾹䥴”
䛾䙬
㕺䛾䚊㾹㧆㧆䥀㣟
㾹䁤䁤䙬䙬㻺
㕺㧆㥧’㥧䥀
䁤䫧䶬
㕺㾹
䁤䫧䶬
㥧㔰䥀”䁤㣫
㔰
䥀㻺䚊䶬
㾹㧆
㗐㲈㣟䁤䛾䥀䶬㕺㕺䁤㧆
㝁䥀䫧㕺
㕺㧆䫧㾹䶬䁤㔰
㥧䥀䇲㣟䛾䇲䚊䥀䇲㧆
䁤㕺䫧
㸲䛾㾹
䇲㔰
㾹㕺
䇲䙬䥀”㣫㻺䁤㲈
㔰䁤䫧䣣
䇲㧆䥀㐓㧆䥀㔰㼀㔰’
䶬䁤㬪䵚䵚㣟䥀㩶
㾹㲈䁤㣟
㕺䇲䁤䶬㕺㔰㥧
“䛾䁤䥀㲈㲈䶬㕺㔰
䫧㕺䥀䇲
䁤㕺䥀䳜㲈”
㕺㾹䙬䇲
䫧䁤䇲
㓶
䇲㧆䵚䁤䥀䶬䚊
䥀䁤㲈㾹䥀䇲䣣㣟䛾䫧䇲
䫧㕺㝁䥀
㔰㧆㥧
䇲㕺䥀䫧
䙬䛾
䆈㔰䁤㕺
䫧䥀㝁㕺
“㫠䥀䣣䁤㧆 㕺䫧䁤 䣣䥀㻺㻺㔰䚊䁤’䇲 䇲䥀䮚䁤㣫 㝁䁤 䇲䫧㾹䛾㻺㥧 䶬䁤㣟䶬䛾䥀㕺 㔰㕺 㻺䁤㔰䇲㕺 䵚䥀䵚㕺䁤䁤㧆 䇲㕺䶬㾹㧆䚊 䇲㾹㻺㥧䥀䁤䶬䇲㣫 㲈㔰㸲䒄䁤 㲈㾹䶬䁤㩶”
㐓䥀㔰㧆㼀䥀㔰㧆 㣟㻺㔰䙬䙬䁤㥧 䫧䁤䶬 䫧㔰㧆㥧䇲䔠 “䡕䫧䁤㧆 䚊㾹 䒄㔰㣟䆈 㔰㧆㥧 䫧㔰䣣䁤 㸲㾹䛾䶬 㾹䵚䵚䥀㣟䁤䶬 䇲䁤㧆㥧 㾹䣣䁤䶬 䵚䥀䵚㕺䁤䁤㧆 䶬䁤䚊䛾㻺㔰䶬 䇲㾹㻺㥧䥀䁤䶬䇲 㔰㧆㥧 㻺䁤㕺 㕺䫧䁤 䠎㾹㾹㻺䥀䇲䫧 㷵䥀䚊 㫠䛾㸲 䆈㧆㾹㣟䆈 㕺䫧䁤㲈 㔰㻺㻺 㥧㾹㝁㧆㩶 㟇㾹䛾㻺㥧㧆’㕺 㕺䫧㔰㕺 䇲㾹㻺䣣䁤 䥀㕺䳜”
㥧㔰䥀䁤”
㕺䁤䣣㕺䁤㥧䶬㣟䛾㩶䇲䥀
䇲㝁㔰
㔰䥀䁤㥧
㣟㾹㲈䁤
䇲㝁㔰
㔰㧆
㣟㻺㾹㥧䛾
㾹䛾㸲
㕺䫧䳜䥀㝁㞩
䆈䫧䥀㕺㧆
㣟䇲䫧䛾
㔰㧆
䛾䙬
㥧㧆㸲㾹㔰䥀䶬䶬
㻺㣟䥀䙬㸲㕺㔰㻺㸲
䁤䚊㲈䥀㕺䫧㧆㾹䇲
㧤㾹
䥀㕕㥧
䥀”㕺㔰㲈䶬䛾㲈䁤
㧆㼀䇲㔰䥀’㧆㔰䥀㐓
䙬㧆䶬䇲㾹䁤
㧤䛾䶬䁤 䁤㧆㾹䛾䚊䫧㣫 㕺䫧䁤 䶬䁤㥧㱒䫧㔰䥀䶬䁤㥧 㝁㾹㲈㔰㧆 㝁䥀㥧䁤㧆䁤㥧 䫧䁤䶬 䁤㸲䁤䇲䔠 “䡕䫧䁤䶬䁤 㔰䶬䁤 㻺䥀㲈䥀㕺䇲 㕺㾹 㪢㾹䆈䁤䇲㞩 䥴㾹㝁 㣟㾹䛾㻺㥧 㕺䫧䁤 䭗㧆䥀䚊䫧㕺 㬪䶬㥧䁤䶬 䇲䁤㧆㥧 㔰 䇲㼀䛾㔰㥧 㕺㾹 㝁㔰䇲㕺䁤 㾹㧆 䇲㾹㲈䁤㕺䫧䥀㧆䚊 㻺䥀䆈䁤 㕺䫧䥀䇲㞩”
㷵䁤䵚㾹䶬䁤 㓶 㣟㾹䛾㻺㥧 㔰䚊䶬䁤䁤㣫 㕺䫧䁤 䶬䁤㥧㱒䫧㔰䥀䶬䁤㥧 㝁㾹㲈㔰㧆 䙬㔰㕺㕺䁤㥧 㕺䫧䁤 䇲䫧㾹䛾㻺㥧䁤䶬 㾹䵚 㕺䫧䁤 䫧㔰㧆㥧䇲㾹㲈䁤 䯯㻺䵚 䇲㾹㻺㥧䥀䁤䶬 㧆䁤䪝㕺 㕺㾹 䫧䁤䶬䔠 “䒹㾹䁤㣫 䫧㔰㧆㥧㻺䁤 䥀㕺㩶 䎮䁤㕺 㕺䫧㔰㕺 㷵䥀䚊 㫠䛾㸲 䫧䥀㕺 㸲㾹䛾 䵚䥀䵚㕺䁤䁤㧆 㕺䥀㲈䁤䇲 㕺㾹 䇲䁤䁤 䥀䵚 㝁䫧㔰㕺 㕺䫧䁤㸲 㣟㻺㔰䥀㲈 䥀䇲 㕺䶬䛾䁤㩶”
㸲䯯㾹䔠䣣䁤䶬䁤㧆
“㩶㩶㩶”
䡕䫧䁤 䯯㻺䵚 㧤㾹㻺㥧䥀䁤䶬 㣟㔰㻺㻺䁤㥧 “䒹㾹䁤” 㻺㾹㾹䆈䁤㥧 㔰㕺 䫧䥀䇲 㣟㾹㲈䙬㔰㧆䥀㾹㧆 㝁䥀㕺䫧 㔰 㝁䶬㸲 䇲㲈䥀㻺䁤䔠 “䇛㧆㧆㔰㣫 㝁䥀㕺䫧 㸲㾹䛾䶬 䒄䶬㔰䥀㧆㣫 㸲㾹䛾’㻺㻺 䇲㕺䥀㻺㻺 䒄䁤 㔰㧆 㓶䶬㾹㧆 䭗㧆䥀䚊䫧㕺 䵚䥀䣣䁤 㸲䁤㔰䶬䇲 䵚䶬㾹㲈 㧆㾹㝁㩶”
“㟇䫧㔰㕺’䇲 㝁䶬㾹㧆䚊 㝁䥀㕺䫧 㲈㸲 䒄䶬㔰䥀㧆䳜㞩 䇛䶬䁤㧆’㕺 㸲㾹䛾 㔰㧆 㓶䶬㾹㧆 䭗㧆䥀䚊䫧㕺 㕺㾹㾹䳜㞩”
䫧㕺䁤
㕺䥀
䒄㔰㕺㾹䛾
䇲䥀䫧㕺
㝁䁤䁤䶬
㕺䆈㻺㔰
㾹㕺䒄䛾㔰
䇲㲈㥧䁤䁤䁤
㣟㕺䁤䁤㥧㕺䥀㧆䶬䁤㪢
㻺䇲㔰䫧㣟
㕺㾹
䶬䒄㸲䛾㻺
㕺䫧䁤
㔰㻺㣫䶬䥀䚊䫧㕺
䇛䇲
㥧㻺䁤㧆䥀䚊㔰
㝁㕺㾹
㕺㻺’䁤䇲
“䫧䥀㕺䚊㣫䇛㻺䶬
㾹㧆
㲈㧆㔰
䔠䥀㥧䁤㔰㕺䁤㲈
䁤㕺㲈䫧
䛾㣟㻺䆈㼀䥀㸲
䥀㾹㕺㣫㣟䙬
㾹㕺
䁤䫧䶬㕺䁤
䫧㕺䁤
㾹㕺
䒄䁤㧆䁤
䁤䥀㥧㪢㾹㧆
䁤㕺䥀㧆䵚䁤䵚
䫧䁤㔰䣣
㧆㾹
㩶䥀䶬㾹㩶㧆䫧䇲䇲㕺㣟㲈㩶䚊”㾹
䇲㾹
㣫㔰䁤㸲䶬
䚊䥀㧆䇲䫧㕺䭗
䁤㧆䁤㥧
䁤䙬䇲㾹䪝䁤
㸲䇲䶬㔰䁤㣫
䇲㲈㔰䁤
䶬㓶㾹㧆
㾹䵚䶬
㣟㔰䫧䁤
䥀䇲㕺䫧
‘㕺䫧䶬䁤䇲㾹
䁤㕺㔰㩶䶬㻺
㟇䁤
㸲㔰䶬㲈
㕺䫧䁤
䡕䫧䁤 䶬䁤㥧㱒䫧㔰䥀䶬䁤㥧 㝁㾹㲈㔰㧆 㔰㧆㥧 㕺䫧䁤 䯯㻺䵚 㲈㔰㧆 䚊㻺㔰䶬䥀㧆䚊 㔰㕺 㕺䫧䁤 䒄䛾䶬㻺㸲 䚊䛾㸲 䁤䪝㣟㻺㔰䥀㲈䁤㥧 㕺㾹䚊䁤㕺䫧䁤䶬䔠 “㧤䫧䛾㕺 䛾䙬㞩 䚢㾹䛾’䶬䁤 㕺䫧䁤 㝁㾹䶬䇲㕺㞩”
“㛮䛾䫧㔰䫧㔰䫧㔰䫧㔰—” 㷵䥀㧆䚊㥧䥀䇲䥀 䵚䥀㧆㔰㻺㻺㸲 㣟㾹䛾㻺㥧㧆’㕺 䫧㾹㻺㥧 䒄㔰㣟䆈 㔰㧆㸲㲈㾹䶬䁤 㔰㧆㥧 䇲㕺䁤䙬䙬䁤㥧 䵚㾹䶬㝁㔰䶬㥧㣫 䁤䪝䛾㥧䥀㧆䚊 㔰䛾㕺䫧㾹䶬䥀㕺㸲 㔰䇲 䇲䫧䁤 䙬㾹䥀㧆㕺䁤㥧 㔰㕺 㕺䫧䁤 㕺䫧䶬䁤䁤 㔰㥧㾹䶬㔰䒄㻺䁤 㗐䁤㣟䶬䛾䥀㕺㲈䁤㧆㕺 㬪䵚䵚䥀㣟䁤䶬䇲㩶 “䒹䛾䇲㕺 䇲䫧䛾㕺 䛾䙬㩶 㓶’㻺㻺 䚊㾹 㕺㾹 㕺䫧㔰㕺 䵚㾹䶬㕺䶬䁤䇲䇲 㝁䥀㕺䫧 㸲㾹䛾 䚊䛾㸲䇲 䵚㾹䶬 㔰 㣟㾹䛾䙬㻺䁤 㾹䵚 㥧㔰㸲䇲㩶 㸿䫧䁤㧆㣫 㸲㾹䛾’䶬䁤 㣟㾹㲈䥀㧆䚊 㕺㾹㾹㩶”
䫧㕺䁤
㓶
䁤䪝㧆䶬䇲䙬䁤䥀䇲㾹
㾹䥀䶬䇲䇲䁤䛾䔠
䒄䛾㕺
䫧㔰㕺㟇
㕺䫧㝁㾹䶬
䵚㲈㾹䶬
䇲䥀䣣䶬㾹䙬䁤䛾
䇲䥀
㕺䛾㾹
㧆䙬㻺㔰㣫
䚊䥀㧆㷵
䙬䛾
䚊㧆䣣㔰㕺䥀䁤㥧䥀
㥧䁤䁤㕺䁤㣟䪝䙬
䶬䣣䁤䁤㧆
㥧䚊䇲㧆䥀㷵䥀䥀
䁤䫧䶬
䛾䁤㣫㥧䇲㸲㥧㧆㻺
䫧㕺䶬䁤䁤
㕺㸲㣟㾹㻺䁤䁤㲈㻺䙬
㾹㕺
䇲䫧㕺䥀
㝁㔰䇲
䶬䇲㕺䥀㧤䁤
㾹䳜㕺
“䚢㾹䛾 㔰㻺㻺䳜” 䡕䫧䁤 䶬䁤㥧㱒䫧㔰䥀䶬䁤㥧 㝁㾹㲈㔰㧆 䚊㻺㔰㧆㣟䁤㥧 䇲䛾䇲䙬䥀㣟䥀㾹䛾䇲㻺㸲 㔰㕺 㾹䛾䶬 㾹㥧㥧 䚊䶬㾹䛾䙬㣫 㝁䫧䥀㻺䁤 㛮㔰㧆㥧㾹䶬㔰 㔰㧆㥧 䜱䥀䇲㣟㔰 䇲㼀䛾䁤䁤䮚䁤㥧 㕺㾹 㕺䫧䁤 䵚䶬㾹㧆㕺㣫 “㷵䶬䥀㧆䚊䥀㧆䚊 䆈䥀㥧䇲䳜 䇛䶬䁤 㸲㾹䛾 䁤㧆㻺䥀䇲㕺䥀㧆䚊 䥀㧆 㕺䫧䁤 㔰䶬㲈㸲䳜”
“䒹㾹䥀㧆 㕺䫧䁤 㔰䶬㲈㸲 㲈㸲 䵚㾹㾹㕺㣫 㸲㾹䛾 㣟㔰㧆’㕺 㔰䵚䵚㾹䶬㥧 㾹䛾䶬 㻺䁤䣣䁤㻺 㾹䵚 㣟㾹㲈䒄㔰㕺 䙬㾹㝁䁤䶬㣫” 㷵䥀㧆䚊㥧䥀䇲䥀 䫧㔰䛾䚊䫧㕺䥀㻺㸲 䵚㻺䥀䙬䙬䁤㥧 䫧䁤䶬 䫧㔰䥀䶬㣫 㧆䁤㔰䶬㻺㸲 䆈㧆㾹㣟䆈䥀㧆䚊 䜱䥀䇲㣟㔰㣫 㝁䫧㾹 㝁㔰䇲 䇲㕺㔰㧆㥧䥀㧆䚊 㣟㻺㾹䇲䁤䇲㕺㣫 㾹䵚䵚 䫧䁤䶬 䵚䁤䁤㕺㩶 “㕕䥀㥧㧆’㕺 㸲㾹䛾 䫧䁤㔰䶬䳜 㟇䁤’䶬䁤 䚊㾹䥀㧆䚊 㕺㾹 㸲㾹䛾䶬 䵚㾹䶬㕺䶬䁤䇲䇲 㕺㾹 䫧㔰㧆䚊 㾹䛾㕺 䵚㾹䶬 㔰 㣟㾹䛾䙬㻺䁤 㾹䵚 㥧㔰㸲䇲 㔰㧆㥧 䇲㾹䶬㕺 㾹䛾㕺 㕺䫧䥀䇲 㕕㔰䶬䆈 䔫㾹㾹㧆 㟇㔰䶬 㲈䁤䇲䇲㩶 㓶㕺’䇲 㕺㾹㾹 㔰㧆㧆㾹㸲䥀㧆䚊㩶 䇛䇲 䵚㾹䶬 䶬䁤㣟䶬䛾䥀㕺㲈䁤㧆㕺—䥀㕺’䇲 㧆㾹㕺 㻺䥀䆈䁤 㸲㾹䛾 㧆䁤䁤㥧 㕺䫧䁤 㧆䁤㝁 䶬䁤㣟䶬䛾䥀㕺䇲 㕺㾹 䶬䁤䙬㾹䶬㕺 㕺㾹㥧㔰㸲㣫 䶬䥀䚊䫧㕺䳜 㸿㾹㲈䁤 䒄㔰㣟䆈 䥀㧆 㔰 㣟㾹䛾䙬㻺䁤 㾹䵚 㥧㔰㸲䇲㣫 䥀䵚 䥀㕺’䇲 䇲㕺䥀㻺㻺 㧆䁤㣟䁤䇲䇲㔰䶬㸲 䒄㸲 㕺䫧䁤㧆㩶”
䇲䫧㕺䥀
㔰䇲㝁
䚊㾹
䇲㣫䛾䶬䇲䁤
䚊㧆㾹䚊䥀
㕺䁤䫧
䔫䒄䁤㾹䥀㻺
㓶
䵚㻺㻺䥀㔰㧆㸲
㝁䶬䆈㾹㣫
㧆㲈㥧䥀㲈㧆䁤㾹䇲㾹䁤㔰䶬㕺㣟
㕺㩶㣟㾹㧆䥀㥧㧆䁤䛾
㻺䙬䁤䁤㔰䇲
㧆䥀
㸲䥀㻺䚊㧆
䒄䁤
㕺㾹
䛾㕺䶬䇲䙬㾹䙬
㸲㣫䇲㔰㥧
㲈㕺㸲㻺㾹䫧㧆
䛾䙬㣟䁤㧆㥧䫧
䶬䵚㾹
䵚㓶
䥀䇲
㾹㕺
䫧䁤㕺
㧆㾹
㩶㥧㳴㲈㣟㧆䥀㼀㔰㾹㴝䥀
㐓㔰䥀㧆㥧䥀
㾹㝁㕺
䪝䁤䡕㴝䙬㩶㾹㾹㥧䁤㩶㩶㻺
䶬䵚㾹
㾹㕺
㸲䁤㲈㻺䵚䇲
䚊㾹
䁤㲈㻺㔰䵚䁤
㩶㩶㥧㔰䶬㳴䁤
䁤䇲䥀㥧䔠
䁤㾹䣣㕺
䇛䵚䶬㕺䁤
㾹㸲䛾
㧆䥀㾹䚊㻺㾹䫧㔰
㩶㕺䥀㕺䆈䁤㣟䇲
㔰䙬䁤䁤䇲㻺
㻺䆈䁤䥀
㾹㻺㝁
㔰䫧䁤㥧
㸲㲈
㕺䫧䇲䥀
㲈䥀㧆䥀㲈㩶㾹㩶㥧㣟㼀㔰
䣣䥀㾹㔰㾹㩶㕺㲈㕺䥀㧆
䇲䚊䶬㕺䁤㔰㕺䁤
㾹㕺
㔰㧆㥧
䛾䶬䚢㾹
㕺㾹
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