𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔭𝔞𝔩𝔢𝔡 𝔩𝔦𝔭𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔤 𝔤𝔞𝔭𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔡𝔢, 𝔞 𝔠𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔫 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔳𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔶 𝔰𝔦𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔠𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰, 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔳𝔬𝔦𝔠𝔢𝔰 𝔡𝔯𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔰 𝔰𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔡, 𝔴𝔞𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔡𝔢𝔢𝔭.
𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔫𝔞𝔫𝔱 𝔭𝔬𝔬𝔩, 𝔞 𝔪𝔦𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔯 𝔠𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔢𝔡, 𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔩𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔰 𝔫𝔬 𝔣𝔞𝔠𝔢—𝔧𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔡𝔬𝔴𝔰 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔟𝔲𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔲𝔢𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔯𝔬𝔱 𝔟𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔯’𝔰 𝔰𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔩𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥.
𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔡𝔰 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔤𝔲𝔞𝔯𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔯𝔲𝔰𝔱𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔯𝔬𝔴𝔰, 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔰𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔠𝔲𝔯𝔰𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔠𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔱 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔣𝔢𝔱𝔦𝔡 𝔞𝔦𝔯, 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 𝔬𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔰𝔭𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔴𝔦𝔰𝔱 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔢𝔞𝔯.
𝔄𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔬𝔬𝔫 𝔦𝔰 𝔡𝔯𝔬𝔴𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔰𝔦𝔩𝔱, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔤 𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔤𝔞𝔭𝔢𝔰—𝔦𝔱𝔰 𝔪𝔞𝔴 𝔦𝔰 𝔟𝔲𝔦𝔩𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔴𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔤𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔲𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔩𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰.








Great job with this adagio… so vivid… flows like silk…
Thank you, so much.
Powerfully penned, Adagio. Great flow, an amazing write my friend. Appreciate you.
Damian
Thank you, Damian.