𝕎𝕖'𝕣𝕖 𝕨𝕒𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕠𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕠𝕨,
𝔹𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕠𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕠𝕨 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕤,
𝕆𝕦𝕣 𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕥 𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙 𝕚𝕤 𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕦𝕡𝕠𝕟 𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕙𝕖𝕖𝕝𝕤, 
𝕐𝕖𝕥 𝕨𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕣𝕖𝕗𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕦𝕟,
𝟠𝟞 𝟜𝟘𝟘 𝕤𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕕𝕤,
𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕨𝕖'𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕕𝕒𝕪,
𝔸𝕝𝕝 𝕤𝕝𝕚𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣𝕤, 
𝔸𝕤 𝕨𝕖 𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕨𝕒𝕪,
𝔻𝕒𝕪𝕤, 𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕜𝕤, 𝕞𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕙𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕪𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤, 
𝔸𝕣𝕖 𝕞𝕒𝕕𝕖 𝕦𝕡 𝕠𝕗 𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕟𝕠𝕨,
𝔸 𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕗 𝕗𝕝𝕖𝕖𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕞𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕤,
𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕨𝕖 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕡𝕚𝕟 𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕟,
𝕎𝕖 𝕘𝕒𝕫𝕖 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕦𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖,
𝔸𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕚𝕥'𝕤 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕨𝕖'𝕣𝕖 𝕞𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖,
𝔸𝕝𝕨𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕕𝕒𝕪,
𝕎𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕨𝕖 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕒𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕨𝕖'𝕣𝕖 𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕪,
𝕎𝕖 𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕠 𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕕,
𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕨𝕖 𝕞𝕒𝕪 𝕒𝕤 𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕝 𝕓𝕖 𝕓𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕕,
𝕊𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕨𝕖 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕤𝕖𝕖 𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕖𝕟𝕕,
𝔸𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕨𝕖'𝕧𝕖 𝕝𝕖𝕗𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕕,
ℕ𝕠𝕨 𝕀 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕚𝕥'𝕕 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕠𝕣𝕪, 
𝔹𝕦𝕥 𝕀 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕙𝕠𝕨, 
𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕨𝕒𝕪 𝕥𝕠 𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤,
𝕀𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕨𝕖 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕨.  
-𝕖.𝕙

Chapter 1 coming soon, November 2021...