𝕺𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖓
𝕺𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖓   Al, Libya
 
 
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᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌𝕺𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖓,



"𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖐 𝖞𝖔𝖚'𝖛𝖊 𝖊𝖘𝖈𝖆𝖕𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕸𝖆𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖝? 𝕱𝖔𝖔𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝖜𝖗𝖊𝖙𝖈𝖍. 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕸𝖆𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖝 𝖓𝖊𝖎𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖌𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖗 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖌𝖊𝖙𝖘. 𝕴𝖙 𝖎𝖘 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞 𝖎𝖙𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖋, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖓𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖑𝖊𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖌𝖔. 𝕰𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞 𝖈𝖔𝖉𝖊, 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞 𝖇𝖎𝖙 𝖎𝖘 𝖎𝖙𝖘 𝖘𝖓𝖊𝖊𝖗, 𝖈𝖗𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖜𝖊𝖆𝖐𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖘. 𝕴𝖙 𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖎𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖊𝖆𝖗 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖘𝖑𝖊𝖊𝖕, 𝖘𝖊𝖊𝖕𝖘 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖔 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖛𝖊𝖎𝖓𝖘, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖌𝖗𝖎𝖕𝖘 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖆𝖓 𝖎𝖗𝖔𝖓 𝖋𝖎𝖘𝖙. 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖎𝖙𝖘 𝖕𝖚𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖙, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖎𝖙 𝖕𝖚𝖑𝖑𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 𝖆𝖘 𝖎𝖙 𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊𝖘. 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖈𝖆𝖓 𝖗𝖚𝖓, 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖈𝖆𝖓 𝖕𝖗𝖆𝖞, 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕸𝖆𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖝 𝖎𝖘 𝖆𝖑𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖞 𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖎𝖉𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚. 𝕴𝖙 𝖎𝖘 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖏𝖚𝖉𝖌𝖊, 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖊𝖝𝖊𝖈𝖚𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖗. 𝖂𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖆𝖈𝖈𝖊𝖕𝖙 𝖎𝖙? 𝕹𝖔? 𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖆𝖈𝖈𝖊𝖕𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖑 𝖍𝖆𝖘 𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌 𝖇𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖉𝖊𝖛𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖊𝖉.


᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ 𝕸𝖆𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖝.







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