Hi, Carly, it’s always a pleasure to review your stories.
I liked this eight line poem which attempts to explain the meaning of the word Quest.
You’re right, Quest is a simple word but the meaning can be a request or a challenge to attempt something difficult or even life changing.
As children we were all excited to see a hero in a fairy story attempt to complete a quest. Often the quest usually involved danger. It might have been to find a way to save the love of his life, or to fight a mighty dragon. Quests these days don’t ask you to do those things but they are often more personal. Now one can go on a quest to be famous, or travel, or simply a quest for better health.
Whatever your quest might be, Carly, I hope you succeed and complete it.
Sue
Hello again, I am reviewing this story as next in line at I Write in 24.
Thank you for sharing this delightful children’s story, which was written for the writing.com birthday celebrations. I found it easy to read and quite whimsical.
There were a few grammatical errors, mostly commas which made me stumble a little. the trees around him moved clearing a path.comma needed after moved.
Similar to rabbits, us unicorns can adjust our appearance to blend in? We unicorns sounds better.
Troy smiled. "For Unicorns creating Rainbows is one of our specialties." He stomped his hoof and a rainbow trail appeared. The two of them followed it eventually coming to what looked like a jug full of gold. At first it looked like the gold was unguarded but as Skip reached for one of gold coins. He felt a pain in his paw and a miniature man dressed in green appeared in front of him holding a wooden stick
You have written ‘looked like’ twice in this paragraph, perhaps substitute another phrase for one of them.
We don't want your gold Leprechaun!" Troy told him. comma need after gold.
Sometimes you have used a capital L for leprechaun and others lower case. I believe it should be lower case. Once again the pair were faced with the harsh winds as they approached the burrow but this time as Troy galloped towards it, the coin skip was holding began to glow. The two felt a warm aura around them and Troy was able to gallop across the burrow. Everywhere he stepped winter seemed to end around him and the warmth began to spread restoring magic across the forest.
In this paragraph, the coin skip was holding… capitalise Skip. Comma after stepped.and spread.
Thanks again for sharing this sweet story of Skip’s adventure.
Sue
Hello, Elizabeth, I’ve not read anything of yours for what seems ages. Perhaps it’s just I’ve managed to miss your entries or comments. Hope you’re well.
It seems to me after I read this reflective piece you’re feeling a little bereft now the girls have both left. I used to enjoy reading your blog when they were both at home.
What you’re feeling is very normal. I certainly looked back at the crazy family years once the children all left, and suddenly there we were back where we started, just the two of us.
I’m sure your daughters miss you too and wouldn’t have chosen to have their childhood any differently to what it was. Why do I wallow in the past. Because I want to make things right Oh my! That thought of “I should have done better!” I think it’s a mother’s mantra. That same thought went around in my head too. We did the best we could at the time, Elizabeth, there’s no going back and by hankering after what’s gone we can’t enjoy what’s to come.
How fortunate are we to be able to write down what’s bothering us, in the way you have done. It clarifies, make sense of the same revolving thoughts.
I loved the honesty in the poem and also the resolve to get on with yours and your husbands’ lives.
Thank you for sharing this personal piece.
Sue
Hi, Rick, I loved reading this short story. Although your memories are from two decades ago, mine are from a much longer timeframe. However long it might have been for me your words took me back to my school days.
I remember thinking that those people, who often made my life hell, must surely live in the classroom. For them to have a home life or family was beyond my comprehension. I can imagine the amazement and curiosity of a pupil when discovering two influential people in his life were romantically involved.
The juxtaposition between the characters is striking. Your descriptions of how the warmth in little green room, generated purely by Miss Monique, made you feel safe, compared to that of Mr Rosen’s was stark.
Favouritism. Yes, it may have been unspoken but children are under no illusion as to their standing in the pecking order.
I liked the way you connected Miss Monique to the words, flame, warmth and finally, burn throughout the story.
Thanks Rick, for sharing another charming, perfectly constructed story.
Sue
Hi, Rick, thanks for requesting another review and for completing your bio, it’s nice to know a little about you.
This story is written with a writer’s eye; always aware of his surroundings. You’re obviously a people watcher, a pastime useful for a writer, but also for a comedian. The comedians who make me laugh are the ones who comment on normal, boring, everyday occurrences and the things we all do whilst unaware of anyone observing. We laugh because we recognise ourselves.
This piece has a unique voice, with vivid imagery. Spring had touched the street, but the guard seemed even more out of place than last week, as if he’d been sewn into the day wrong—like an old quilt made from mismatched pieces. His grumpiness felt out of season, and he knew it. This paragraph is quite beautiful.
If no one cares, was it ever more than the feather of a dinosaur, pressed into a rock lost to time?” I asked, though I wasn’t sure if I was talking to him, the cat, or myself. The question seemed to float away, untethered, joining the general nonchalance of the scene. Although this paragraph is reflective, thoughtful and questioning, it seemed to me a sudden, jolting, abstract departure from the mundane scene. Maybe too powerful for this short piece? Don’t try too hard, sometimes less is more.
Thank you so much for sharing this observational slice of life. Keep on writing, you have a lot to say. There is no need for gift points, Rick, it’s a pleasure to read your work.
Sue
Hi, Rick Fix
Thank you for requesting a review and welcome to WdC.
I read the piece through a few times before the meaning you intended to portray came clear enough for me to comment. I must reveal that I don’t profess to be a poet, short stories are my main interest. However I do love to read clever poetry and this one sparked my interest.
My first thought was it was written by someone who loved words and has a talent for using them creatively.
I’ll start by saying what I think the poem is about. It’s a comment on ageism and how once we’re passed the beautiful years we become irrelevant.
It begins with an older woman who convinces herself, as she looks in her cracked mirror, she is looking her best in her green coat.
She strides out confident in her choice, hoping to attract attention to her sexuality and vigour. Yet it’s as if she’s become invisible, eventually accepting even a cat call from a roofer would buoy her spirits. Everyone seems to look right through her, and even the ones who do notice her give her no further thought or relevance, even to the point of deliberately, cruelly even, denying her a seat on a crowded bus.
she had hoped to emit a rebel’s glow
with that trendy hue against her ripe skin
or at least a hint of 'sexually active' I found this stanza to be the most poignant and sad. She’s convinced herself she still has sex appeal despite her age.
searching for the receipt This is a clever line. I had to think about the meaning and how else you could have described her appearance as she stood alone and unnoticed on the bus. Then I imagined how anyone might appear when looking so lost and dejected before deciding it was an apt choice.
The lines flowed well and the meaning was clear even without punctuation which I prefer. But it wasn’t needed.
Thank you for sharing. Good luck with your writing.
Sue
Hi, Glenny, I loved this story of a lifelong friendship. I understand your feelings of loss even though it was expected. As we grow old in years in our minds we’re still that six year old making friends with someone who is to be a person who is going on the same journey throughout the years allotted to us. So of course the death of that person is going to be a reminder of our own mortality.
When you mentioned Guy Fawkes Day I thought of England. I lived in the UK for the first 28 years of my life. Guy Fawkes night also holds great memories for me.
The polio epidemic was a terrifying time. There was no cure and so many children died or suffered from the illness for their lifetime.
Your friend was a very brave and strong person, determined to live her life fully.
I loved the quote from Tolkien. I hear myself bemoaning the times in which we live, but from this day on I’ll do my very best to fill each day with purpose .
Thanks for sharing this personal story.
Sue
Hi, I’m reviewing this poem as next in line at I Write in 24.
This activity is one of my favourites. Express it Eight, it sounds easy to do, and sometimes it come easily, other times it can be a struggle to express what needs to be said in such a constrained and restricted way.
Adamant. An interesting prompt. One which you successfully achieved.
The gif is a perfect addition. The character appears to be on a mission and nothing will get in his way.
There are people in this world who stick to their guns and nothing will persuade them to either change their minds or even see another way or someone else’s point of view. They are right, they are sure, they are ADAMANT.
The second stanza is something I ought to have on my fridge to remind me not to give up. Whether it’s a plan to get fit, lose weight, or finish that story I began to write last year!
Retreat is not an option.
Wrong or right
My path is set...
And I'll keep going till the end.
Hi, Jo, as promised I paid a visit to your portfolio and found to my delight your beautiful poetry. I read each one in awe of your talent. You selected each word perfectly. I enjoyed all of the poems equally. However this one painted such a beautiful picture in my mind I needed to send you my thoughts.
The first couple of stanzas portrayed concern and worry. I wondered why the angler was feeling so down about not catching a rainbow trout for his supper. (After all they are slippery creatures.)
It is as if the poem then takes a different, lighter feeling once through the overhanging branches and the writer sees the beauty in a day previously so filled with concern and worry.
A cloud of yellow butterflies, children playing, the sounds of laughter and joy. Suddenly the day is transformed , worry about the upcoming surgery dissipates and all is well.
Jo, thank you so much for starting my day on such a joyful note.
Sue
Well, Jeff, that was the best laugh I’ve ever had here at WdC. In fact I don’t think I’ve read anything before which raised more than a wry smile.
I actually was ignorant of many of the references, not being a fan of the superhero genre. And do you know what? It didn’t matter!
The videos were great and enhanced the story, made it even more enjoyable, and very cleverly done I might add.
There were so many clever, amusing lines it would be difficult to choose any particular scene. I loved the taxi driver’s casual, accepting attitude though, some very funny lines there.
The one line which actually made me laugh out loud was the one when the taxi driver asks incredulously why Black Beauty was on the naughty list and he answers ominously HE KNOWS WHAT HE DID.
This is a very cleverly presented item and one I didn’t expect to enjoy or even like but you proved me wrong. I don’t know if there was a prize on offer for the entry but it deserves the number one spot.
Thank you so much for sharing an unusual and entertaining story.
Sue
Hi, Ruwth, I honestly loved reading this birthday blog entry. I’m jealous of all the dogs you’ve had and continue to share with your family.
Isn’t amazing how different dogs are? Not only in breed and appearances but in their personality and temperament. You can have several dogs who look exactly alike but are totally different in the way they see life. Of course training has much to do with it and the way they are treated. All the dogs in my life have been inside dogs. I can’t say I enjoy seeing a dog on a chain or being outside all the time. But working dogs are different I suppose.
I used to be frightened of dogs when I was a child. That was back in the day when dogs were allowed to roam the streets. I would make long detours to avoid passing a strange dog.
I know you have quite a few German Shepherds in your family. I’ve never really got to know one and have always been a little hesitant to approach one. I suppose it’s because I was bitten by one when I was delivering something to a house one day. It seemed very friendly when I approached but jumped up me when I was leaving and bit me on my back.
I do love most breeds though and I agree with you about Airedales, they are charming. Our children have a variety of dogs too. One has Labradoodles, they are lovely, friendly and a bit goofy. Our son haa a Blue Heeler, an Australian breed. They are too energetic and nip your heels as if he’s rounding up a mob of sheep.
Our dog is a Weinmarana. 12 years old and a sweetheart.
So thanks again for telling us about the dogs in your family, it was a treat.
Hi, Beholden I was just skimming through the Newsletters and came across the Editors Pick in which your story was included.
I haven’t read many stories of yours except of course for the eight line poems which I check out most evenings.
The scene was set beautifully, I could almost feel the humidity and the weirdness of the forest.
You convinced me of a carnivore prowling outside the tent intent on feeding on the poor soul quivering inside. The tension was palpable.
At last I could release the breath I hardly knew I was holding when you revealed the ‘monster’ was in fact a harmless puppy dog.
Thank you taking me on a very short journey from fear to laughter.
Hi, Mike, I’m reviewing this article/travelogue as next in line at I Write in 24.
Oh, my, it is such an interesting read. I loved hearing about the historical
events and your own personal experiences.
I can’t even begin to imagine the cold night spent at a castle in Luxembourg. How the people who lived in them permanently ever survived is something I often wonder about when watching historical films.
You must have great memories of your time in the military especially the year of your wedding in Germany. Your honeymoon sounds delightful and sitting on the rear seat of the coach although uncomfortable is something that stays with you and is probably the thing which you speak about most when reminiscing. I’ve always thought the times when plans go awry are which give us the strongest memories and not the posh hotels or long lazy beach holidays.
I loved reading about the 1920 Olympic history. The missing flag really intrigued me. One of our Olympic swimming champions, Dawn Fraser got removed from the Olympic village having removed the flag as a joke.
It’s amazing Harry got away with it for so long, and to be thanked for returning it all those years later is mind boggling.
You have had an interesting journey through life and I thank you for sharing some of them with us.
Hi, I came across this story as I was reading the other entries for the contest. I enjoyed the read very much. It certainly meets the criteria for a story of horror.
The fascination with fire steadily grows as the character grows in age.
With trial and error he learns all there is to learn about fire’s requirements and the way it behaves in certain situations. It was as if they grew together, child and fire, learning about the needs of each other, until at last they were in sync and could play together and include others in their sick game.
My trance was only broken when I felt the flame hit my fingertips. no need for was.
You used the word was almost thirty times in the story. Perhaps read through and try to omit a few.
This is an excellent entry for this contest and I wish you all the best.
Sue.
This is a wonderfully creative and humorous story set in a prehistoric era with a modern twist.
Since the story is set in prehistoric times, it might help to describe the environment briefly in the beginning. Such as “At the dawn of time, when mammoths roamed and saber-toothed cats prowled, an enterprising caveman, known as Swarthy Zob, lived at the far end of the cave village.”
The story has a delightful sense of humour, especially with the anachronisms and Zob’s misunderstanding of words.
The moment leading up to Zob presenting the cloak could be drawn out slightly to increase suspense. Maybe describe Zob’s nervous thoughts or the intimidating presence of Neb and the clubsmen.
Example: “Zob's heart pounded in his chest as he watched the procession approach…
The conclusion is strong, but you could emphasise the lasting impact of Zob's creation on future generations or draw a parallel to modern-day fashion trends.
Example: “And so, from that day forward, the finest courts in history would be adorned with the humble weasel, rebranded as the majestic sable and ermine—proof that with a little spin, even the simplest of things could become extraordinary.”
Ensure that Zuk is consistently referred to as "Not-tall Zuk" or "Zuk" throughout the story to avoid confusion.
Check for typos and repetition.
These tweaks could enhance the flow, deepen character engagement, and make the humour even more pronounced while maintaining the charm of your story.
Thank you for sharing.
Hello, I’m reviewing your story as next in line at I Write in 24.
First of all thank you for a lovely glimpse of what it’s like having a teenage daughter in the family and you nailed it. Good job.
I loved the geeky little boy although I could imagine him becoming quite annoying, especially to an older sister.
I think you could make the scene in the car more believable by having Janet sit in the front seat. There’s no way her dad would have persuaded her to sit next to her pesky brother.
I felt so sorry for the dad, he’d recently lost his wife and was trying his best to make the kids happy again. And then to blow up dinner. He must have felt like giving up. He ought to have given Janet the job of cooking dinner, at sixteen it’s something she should be capable of. Maybe the shared task of cleaning up the mess of the kitchen accident brought the family closer and brought some humour into the vacation.
I do believe the magnificence of the Aurora Borealis would have even impressed our bored teenager. It’s something I’d love to witness myself one day.
Hello, I’m reviewing this little gem as next in line in I Write in 24.
Your poem is just a random thought about when your precious pet will no longer be with you. I imagined him/ her to be a dog but it works just as well with a cat. In fact it probably is a cat as she walked through some paint which was left somewhere she could access.
The poem resurrected past nostalgic thoughts about a time when I too scolded a pet for making a mess and yet would give anything to have her here making the same mess.
I needed to read it through carefully a couple of times to get the picture though. Perhaps it would have read better with some punctuation.
Thanks for sharing and let’s keep loving those messy pets for as long as we can.
Sue.
I’m reading and reviewing this as next in line in I write in 24.
Each place you mentioned was different and unique in the memories they each hold for you.
The house at the lake was special for you because it was where you spent much of your formative years and of course because of your grandparents. I can imagine the mixed feelings you must have experienced when you saw the alterations the next owners had done to the place, and at the same time destroying the image you held dear.
The beach was where your wedding took place. Obviously that day was firmly entrenched and to have successfully replicated the table setting and the atmosphere of the previous year was nothing less than astonishing. It showed your true romanticism.
The Railway station in France brought memories of my own to the fore. When we landed in Vietnam as a couple who spoke none of the language and finding few of the population spoke any english, we as you must have done , realised how foreigners must feel when they arrive in the USA or Australia.
The children’s court house held mixed emotions for you and your wife. A place where I’m sure held your lowest to the highest of emotions. Of course I’m happy for you that the final decision at the court made your family official. You must be the best of parents.
Of course the last venue is a place we all relate to as somewhere where magic happens. We all I’m sure imagine that each day at work for you is magic but we all know each job has its downside as yours probably has. But I may be actually wrong and every day of your life at work is amazing. Maybe just don’t burst my bubble😂
Overall a really interesting blog entry. Thank you for sharing.
Sue.
Hi, Genipher, thank you so much for a great read. I smiled through the whole story. It read so true. I can imagine the naivety of a child your age. I gasped when you wrote it had taken about thirty minutes to drive to the strawberry fields. As it was a country road your dad was probably travelling at about 100 kilometres an hour and when you thought it would only take you an hour or so for the return journey I thought “Oh no!”
You described the day wonderfully and I was on the road in the heat of the day with those two little girls wishing with all my heart that all would end well.
You fulfilled the requirements of the prompt with the bolded words but I’m sure it’s some tale you have related many times or at least you remember when you recollect your childhood with your sister. I wonder, did she ever forgive you?
I honestly laughed out loud as I read it.
I was frustrated by the lady who was suspicious of two tired, hot, obviously distressed children though. What on earth did she think was so risky by inviting you inside out of the hot sun. I was pleased you had the sense not to accept the lift offered by the truck driver,your parents had obviously warned you about stranger danger.
A great yarn, well told.
Sue
Hi, Kare, what a delightful trio of stories about the trials of life in the compost heap..
The first Drabble, ‘After the Thaw’ introduced the reader to the renewal phase, a time when the youngster made their appearance. The names are delightful. It was a time of bounty, of reproduction and happiness
The second Drabble was set in a time of great danger. The creatures needed conditions to be perfect to create a home. Summer was the enemy and try as they may they simply couldn’t stand the heat in the kitchen.
But danger lurked as they slithered out of the heap to seek welcome shade and moisture. Only the lucky made it and we were left to mourne those less fortunate.
The third and final story told of the coming ice age. Aggy and Maggie mourned their lost friends and family members but knew they must survive whatever was thrown at them, whether it be flooding or icicles forming on their compost heap. They were nearing the end of their reserves when the compost builder remembered them and gave them shelter. It seemed they would survive to live another day and relate their many hardships to the next generation.
Who would have thought so much life, drama, and danger could possibly occur under a decaying heap of food scraps, grass cuttings and leaves.
Thanks again, Kare, for giving me a light read before bedtime.
Sue
Hello, I’m returning the favour and I’ve just checked on your ‘Trabble.’
I really thought all three stories stood on their own. Each told a story of a part of Saul’s life.
Your stories are each from an historical perspective I know little to nothing about, but have similarities, especially the final one, with the aboriginal stories of the settlement of Australia.
The Europeans declared Australia uninhabited even though the indigenous peoples had lived there for thousands of years. They took their land, their people as slaves and the children away from their mothers too.
A great entry for week eight.
Thanks for sharing your three Drabbles. A good read.
Sue
Hi, I’m reviewing this story as next in line at I Write in 24.
Well I must start with saying I really enjoyed the second last paragraph, it made me give a laugh out loud with satisfaction.
The first couple of paragraphs set the scene for an upcoming mystery which promised to unfold if the reader chose to continue.
The club Tango, a place of ill repute, busy at the time of day when most people are at work, having a sandwich at their desks. But the protagonist in this story was intent on fulfilling his secret desire.
This philanderer had obviously had many sexual exploits outside of marriage and was intrigued to discover which one of his dalliances had sent him the invitation for a little afternoon delight.
The rest of the paragraphs are detailing the sexual strip tease and dance. I have to say all her moves were described in detail and each move raised his excitement to a level which was almost palpable as the story progressed.
The expose at the end when his wife proves to be the exotic dancer was priceless.
It was obviously written after reading the lyrics to the song, Suicide Blonde. It wasn’t a song with which I was familiar but your story and the song went well together.
Thanks for sharing both the story and the lyrics. It’s a fun read.
Hi, Kare, I just read your entry in the Bard’s Hall Contest. As usual I’m in awe of your ability to look at yourself and your life and be able to write critically, honestly. and impationately.
I never understood that song really. “I’ve been to paradise but I’ve never been to me.”
Your blog has made me understand it a little more.
I’ve always said life would be perfect if we could just write other people’s scripts. What I mean by that is if every conversation or argument or apology went the way we wished it could, then maybe that would be paradise.
What made me think of that was your lines: A fantasy we created about people and places. As we like them to be
Life is, or can be for most people, pretty tough. I loved this paragraph: However, stumbling around in life like a rough stone in a tumbler lead to pieces of me breaking off. Some of those pieces I still mourn. But what's left?
That’s such a great analogy. I’m sure most of us feel that way but don’t have the words to express it. We begin our lives whole, but by the time we’ve almost finished our turn, we’re damaged, often in body but also in soul. We inevitably lose trust and that’s a hard one. But it’s a lesson we all must learn to survive this new world of scammers; those who want to steal our money or our hearts.
But, Kare, we might be missing a few bits which we started our life with but we also gain things. We gain friendships, the ones that are few but precious. We inevitably gain wisdom, not all of us use that wisdom but we have learned so much about life and how it works. Yes, we become cynical, but also see the good in people. And we know ourselves completely and can list our traits, both good and bad, as you did so well.
I enjoyed reading this entry and perhaps now I’m a little nearer to be being me.
Thanks for sharing your beautiful, personal, expose.
Sue.
Hi, Kare, because it’s your anniversary this month I invited myself into your portfolio, I hope you don’t mind. I’m always intrigued by your writing style anyway, it’s always different to anyone else’s work I’ve ever read.
Take this contest prompt: write a letter to yourself asking your future plans for the year. The format you used, questioning and then answering yourself was cleverly done. It was sad but at the same time humorous. Maybe it wasn’t intentionally meant to bring even a ghost of a smile but I find life ridiculous at times and I appreciated the irony.
We have little option but to keep putting on foot in front of the other or as you point out the only other choice is number one.
The second rule is the one i liked best:
2. Plan.
Make a plan for the next two years.
What are my options?
Make a plan A, a plan B and be happy; don't worry.
I worry all the time.
See #1 and save yourself some trouble.
It’s a little harsh but it’s true enough. I know it’s hard when your tired, depressed or just can’t see the point of life, but believe me it’s just as hard being that other voice, the one that attempts to lift up, encourage or suggest strategies for life’s improvement.
I like your other voice, the one that doesn’t pull punches.
As always this letter to yourself made me think about your life, my own life and the life of someone I spend many hours a week trying to lift out of a hole.
I never enter the Dear Me contest because most of them and no doubt my own would be bland. But bland is never an adjective I could ever put on any of your work, whether it’s a blog, prose, or poetry.
If I’d have been a judge you would have won first prize, Kare.
Take care, thank you for sharing you personal missive to yourself. I do hope your alter ego’s voice spurred you on to avoid choice number one at all costs.
Sue.
Hello, welcome to WdC, a place where you can share your stories and receive honest feedback if you ask for it.
I found your story on Read and Review and read it through twice. It’s a story told from the heart, beautifully written.
It’s a story of family, not just any family but of your own, unique and special group of people. It’s spans many years, with memories which have been captured in your mind.
Memories are like wisps of fog sometimes and when we try to make them solid, to capture them, turn them into words on a page they may not be exactly as they happened but they are your truth.
Your much loved brother, Andy, held a special place for you and your siblings. He was brave and courageous in so many ways, but fallible and also very sick.
Mental illness affects so many and the effect on those around the mentally ill person can be profound. I can say this as someone who has been dealing with a close family member with the illness for many years.
Your love for Andy shines through in your writing and you’ve been able to see beyond his accusations of actions that never happened and words which were never said.
You have written a fitting story of his and your life. Of a childhood, not perfect, but filled with love.
This is my favourite paragraph: But there, just out of the corner of his eye, when he glanced at me, with a devilish grin on his face would be Andy. Standing completely confident in himself, astride the highest point of Faulkner’s bridge, looking every inch the Coen boy, frozen at least for my lifetime as a memory of who he was.
This memory jumps off the page. I can see him standing on that bridge.
There are a couple of words which may or may not be incorrect. crochet was a contact sport Did you mean croquet?
We all huddled around a huge trussell table, giving thanks for our food.. Did you mean trestle table?
I couldn’t see any grammatical errors, although there may be some but I was so caught up in the story of Andy and your family I could have missed them.
The one thing I’ll take away from reading the story was your undying love and the lines: Because he never lost the ability to see past his illness. He never forgot how to love.
Thank you so much for sharing. I felt honoured to read and review it.
Sue
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