‘Cat Person’, which was published in The New Yorker‘s December 11 issue, navigates a brief relationship between a 20-year-old university student named Margot, and an older man – Robert – whom she meets while working in a movie theatre candy … They also talked, more broadly, about the phenomenon of unwanted sex that came about not through the use of physical force but because of a poisoned cocktail of emotions and cultural expectations—embarrassment, pride, self-consciousness, and fear. “Why are you texting all the time?” Margot’s stepdad asked her at dinner. Founded in March 2020 by Jimmy Wu and Lambert Wang, Cat Person is the company behind the subscription shaving company Harry's. “You’re welcome,” she said. “We could go get a drink, I guess?” she said. Why can’t we all just get along? I felt intensely protective of Margot, and of the readers who identified with her, and, at the same time, I felt like an impostor. She was starting to think that she understood him—how sensitive he was, how easily he could be wounded—and that made her feel closer to him, and also powerful, because once she knew how to hurt him she also knew how he could be soothed. “I have to say more than that. In fact, he’s not even a hundred per cent positive that he identifies as a man anymore; we spent a lot of time over break talking about what it would mean for him to come out as non-binary, so sex with him wasn’t going to happen, and you could have asked me about that if you were worried; you could have asked me about a lot of things. There was a bottle of whiskey on his dresser, and he took a swig from it, then handed it to her and kneeled down and opened his laptop, an action that confused her, until she understood that he was putting on music. But, more than that, I want people to read it. So what was it like to have a story go viral? Cat Person Essay The New Yorker, how to cite two authors in essay, best college essays topics, what skills do students need to write an opinion essay. “I can’t do it—you read it,” Margot said. Almost everyone we encounter thinks about us. All papers from this agency should be properly referenced. He got the hint and tried to undo her bra, but he couldn’t work the clasp, his evident frustration reminiscent of his struggle with the keys, until at last he said, bossily, “Take that thing off,” and she complied. “But I can’t. In fact, this isn’t true, even if you haven’t had a story go viral. “I’m just a little tired.”. The Cat Person collection comprises a modular feeding station, called the Mesa Bowl, and an adaptable three-in-one cat bed, dubbed the Canopy Bed. I received many in-depth descriptions, from men, of sexual encounters they’d had, because they thought I’d “just like to know.” I got e-mails from people I hadn’t talked to in years who wondered if I’d noticed that my story had gone viral. Kristen Roupenian on the Self-Deceptions of Dating, The Photographer Behind the “Cat Person” Image on Capturing a Bad Kiss. After a short while, Robert got up and hurried to the bathroom in a bow-legged waddle, clutching the condom to keep it from falling off. A torrent of unvarnished, unpolished opinion was delivered directly to my eyes and my brain. I did not. They didn’t talk. “I’m sorry,” Robert said coldly. She looked at the clock; it was nearly three in the morning. When the next message from him did arrive, just after dinner, it was a harmless joke about Red Vines, but she deleted it immediately, overwhelmed with a skin-crawling loathing that felt vastly disproportionate to anything he had actually done. In discussing the babe.net story, many observers brought up “Cat Person,” The New Yorker short story that became an unexpected viral success last month — another exploration, albeit fictional, of contemporary sexual dynamics. “We texted about them, remember?”. Perhaps she was being unfair to Robert, who really had done nothing wrong, except like her, and be bad in bed, and maybe lie about having cats, although probably they had just been in another room. . They went to a bar she’d never been to, an underground speakeasy type of place, with no sign announcing its presence. It’s true.”. At the front door, he fumbled with his keys for what seemed a ridiculously long time and swore under his breath. By her third beer, she was thinking about what it would be like to have sex with Robert. . We’re in love, and we’re probably going to get married.”, “Hmm,” her stepdad said. But the next week he came into the movie theatre again, and bought another box of Red Vines. “It’s O.K.—you can murder me if you want,” she said, and he laughed and patted her knee. A few times, she got distracted for a day or so and wondered if the exchange would die out altogether, but then she’d think of something funny to tell him or she’d see a picture on the Internet that was relevant to their conversation, and they’d start up again. Then, abruptly, Tamara lunged, snatching the phone out of Margot’s hand and holding it far away from her as her thumbs flew across the screen. “Thanks for the movie and stuff.”. Like essay writing, for example. . It occurred to her that she’d never gone to someone’s house to have sex before; because she’d dated only guys her age, there had always been some element of sneaking around, to avoid roommates. “Cat Person” Tells a Story Most Women Know About Bad Sex It took three texts, four headlines and a barrage of Tweets to finally get me to read “Cat Person,” a story published in the New Yorker on Sunday that sounds like a satire and reads like a … In fact, I shouldn’t be. “So, do you want to go get a drink?” he asked when they got back to the car, as if being polite were an obligation that had been imposed on him. We had sex,” Margot said. Hello, Sign in ... One person found this helpful. Then he added, “I’d have thought you’d be too old for that, now that you’re twenty.”, She stuck her tongue out at him. “Cat Person,” the New Yorker short story by Kristen Roupenian that took over Twitter this weekend, is about plain old humans: Margot and Robert, a … Posted by 2 years ago. Curled up on her bed with Tamara that night, the glow of the phone like a campfire illuminating their faces, Margot read the messages as they arrived: “Hi Margot, I saw you out at the bar tonight. I’m sure that sometime, late at night, I’ll go on Twitter and search for my name and try to figure out what people are saying—or not saying—about me and my book. Maybe the messages would keep coming and coming; maybe they would never end. If you are not in the habit of submitting short stories to literary magazines, this might not seem like such a big deal to you, but, when I learned that the fiction editor of The New Yorker knew my name, I was so thrilled that I forwarded the e-mail to my mother. “Since that’s where I live.”. Will be used in accordance with our Privacy Policy. “Oh, honey, it’s O.K., it’s all right. The whole time, he was stroking her hair and trailing light kisses down her shoulder, as if he’d forgotten that ten minutes ago he’d thrown her around as if they were in a porno and growled, “I always wanted to fuck a girl with nice tits” in her ear. And she truly didn’t know. “Good night,” she said, and then she opened the door and escaped. “You’re welcome, concession-stand girl,” he said, though of course he knew her name by then. “I told you I was a sophomore!” she said. Margot met Robert on a Wednesday night toward the end of her fall semester. When Margot announced that Robert was there, everyone erupted in astonishment, and then they surrounded her and hustled her out of the bar as if she were the President and they were the Secret Service. Charmingly, as if we were all at a Paris salon in the 1920s, everyone had an opinion about a short story. Meanwhile, his texts kept arriving, none of them saying anything of consequence, each one more earnest than the last. She still didn’t know much about him, because they never talked about anything personal, but when they landed two or three good jokes in a row there was a kind of exhilaration to it, as if they were dancing. This is the happiest I will ever be. Was what happened between Robert and Margot an issue of consent, or no? Published in The New Yorker Cat Person by Kristen Roupenian has provoked an online debate about the main character Margot and her date with a man called Robert who has cats. You live in the dorms,” he said, as though that were something she should apologize for. “What do you want to do now?” he asked her. She reached for the door handle. Outside, she presented herself to him again for kissing, but, to her surprise, he only pecked her on the mouth. So.”. Ms. Fiona Allen. I was thirty-six years old and a few months into my first serious relationship with a woman, and now everyone wanted me to explain why twenty-year-old girls were having bad sex with men. The house was in a pretty, wooded neighborhood not too far from campus and had a string of cheerful white fairy lights across the doorway. She felt as though a leech, grown heavy and swollen with her blood, had at last popped off her skin, leaving a tender, bruised spot behind. When Margot returned to campus, she was eager to see Robert again, but he turned out to be surprisingly hard to pin down. It was about eleven o’clock. I remember that that weekend was very, very cold; my dog had a U.T.I., so I had to keep going outdoors even as the rain froze into snow. What makes this story so riveting? She was working behind the concession stand at the artsy movie theatre downtown when he came in and bought a large popcorn and a box of Red Vines. But she couldn’t help it. Eventually, Robert switched the radio to late-night NPR. Then I went home, fired up Twitter, and saw that I had a bunch of notifications from strangers. You’re forced to reckon with my full complexity—or, at least, whatever fraction of that complexity I’ve managed to get down on the page. Into this steps “Cat Person,” a New Yorker fiction story by Kristen Roupenian that explores how badly people can misread each other, but also how … “Good,” he said. The male grooming brand previously designed a … She rubbed his back to try to keep the mood going, but that seemed to fluster him even more, so she stopped. The interpretation, the criticism, the analysis telling you that you’re right or that you’re wrong or that you’re an asshole—that’s someone else’s job. Margot met Robert when she was at work on a concession stand in an arthouse movie theatre. He looked stunned and stupid with pleasure, like a milk-drunk baby, and she thought that maybe this was what she loved most about sex—a guy revealed like that. Robert did not pick up on her flirtation. Finally, someone in line who’d been paying attention tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to her, marooned on the sidewalk. “I like it,” she said, truthfully, and, as she did, she identified the emotion she was feeling as relief. She pushed her body against his, feeling tiny beside him, and he let out a great shuddering sigh, as if she were something too bright and painful to look at, and that was sexy, too, being made to feel like a kind of irresistible temptation. Cat Person Essay The New Yorker you learn and still struggle with some things. Here’s the catch: when you read a story I’ve written, you’re not thinking about me—you’re thinking as me. That made her sad, not so much because she wanted to continue spending time with him as because she’d had such high expectations for him over break, and it didn’t seem fair that things had fallen apart so quickly. Callie tried to explain what was happening; I failed to understand. . But then, a month later, she saw him in the bar—her bar, the one in the student ghetto, where, on their date, she’d suggested they go. She learned that Robert had two cats, named Mu and Yan, and together they invented a complicated scenario in which her childhood cat, Pita, would send … He kissed her then, on the lips, for real; he came for her in a kind of lunging motion and practically poured his tongue down her throat. “Calm down. But he was still disconcertingly quiet, and all her bubbling attempts at making conversation bounced right off him. It seemed awful, yet somehow it also gave her that tender feeling toward him again, the sense that even though he was older than her, she knew something he didn’t. But he didn’t turn around. I make great scrambled eggs!”, “Thanks,” she said, sliding into her leggings. and briefly taken over your mind. But then he was kissing her, throwing her bag and their coats on the couch and ushering her into the bedroom, groping her ass and pawing at her chest, with the avid clumsiness of that first kiss. It’s an intriguing piece and I have it circulating here now, so should be able to get back to you in the next week or two. She imagined Robert picking up his phone, reading that message, turning to glass, and shattering to pieces. ‘Cat Person’, which was published in The New Yorker‘s December 11 issue, navigates a brief relationship between a 20-year-old university student named Margot, and an older man – Robert – whom she meets while working in a movie theatre candy bar. Because of my roommate?”. She pushed the phone toward Tamara. unusual choice,” she said. Robert bought a box of Red Vines and Margot made fun of him. A fictional short story published in a magazine is being shared widely online as social media users discuss how much it relates to modern day dating. The bedroom wasn’t empty, though it was emptier than the living room; he didn’t have a bed frame, just a mattress and a box spring on the floor. That’s why I write them. I like the discount system and your anti-plagiarism policy. “The guy from the movie theatre!” By then, Albert had heard a version of the story, though not quite the true one; nearly all her friends had. The short story Cat Person appeared in the New Yorker and went crazy viral, with women recognizing something of their own love lives in the story and men totally missing the point. For some reason, he’d chosen a movie with subtitles, and she kept closing her eyes, so she had no idea what was going on. New York Times ‘Cat Person’ in The New Yorker: A Discussion With the Author New York Times When a short story makes a splash these days, you can see the ripples in real time. When he asked her where she wanted to go for a drink, she named the place where she usually hung out, but he made a face and said that it was in the student ghetto and he’d take her somewhere better. Before he got out of the car, he said, darkly, like a warning, “Just so you know, I have cats.”, “I know,” she said. Why is she taking so long to order her coffee? Like essay writing, for example. I want people to read my stories—of course I do. They started saying good morning and good night, and when she asked him a question and he didn’t respond right away she felt a jab of anxious yearning. I felt as though if I were truthful about who I was, I would let everyone down. Reader: beware anybody who … The idea that, instead of that whole involved, emotional process, she might have watched a pretentious Holocaust movie, drunk three beers, and then gone to some random house to lose her virginity to a guy she’d met at a movie theatre was so funny that suddenly she couldn’t stop laughing, though the laughter had a slightly hysterical edge. Cat Person tells the story of college student Margot and her ill-fated potential relationship with an older man, Robert. “Thank you for my presents,” she said, when they were back outside. The internet latches on to new obsessions all the time. There are a lot of essays and articles out there that summarize the response to the story much more objectively than I ever could. Nicknamed "Cat Person", he fits the "crazy cat lady" stereotype. For a few hours after “Cat Person” went viral, I got to live the dream and the nightmare of knowing exactly what people thought when they read what I’d written. "Cat Person" is a short story published in The New Yorker in December 2017, which quickly went viral, attaining significant praise on the internet, especially within certain feminist circles. Robert was wearing a rabbit-fur hat that came down over his ears and a thick, old-fashioned down jacket. Sign up for the Books & Fiction newsletter. . But knowing, in that immediate and unmediated way, what people thought about my writing felt . So instead she shrugged, and Robert said, “We could watch a movie,” and he went to the computer and downloaded something; she didn’t pay attention to what. Published in late 2017 — in the thick of #MeToo revelations — the viral short story by Kristen Roupenian, then an M.F.A. The problem is not that other people think about us but that their thoughts are so flattening, so reductive in comparison to our own complicated view of ourselves. “You’re drunk,” he said, accusingly. Probably it would be like that bad kiss, clumsy and excessive, but imagining how excited he would be, how hungry and eager to impress her, she felt a twinge of desire pluck at her belly, as distinct and painful as the snap of an elastic band against her skin. When the story appeared online, young women began sharing it among themselves; they said it captured something that they had also experienced: the sense that there is a point at which it is “too late” to say no to a sexual encounter. “My parents are asking about u,” Margot texted, and Robert sent her back a smiley-face emoji whose eyes were hearts. The way he looked at her then was like an exaggerated version of the expression she’d seen on the faces of all the guys she’d been naked with, not that there were that many—six in total, Robert made seven. “Are you having an affair with someone?”, “Yes,” Margot said. The writer Kristen Roupenian had fewer than 200 followers on Twitter before her work… Read Article Cat Person became a viral sensation when it was published by the New Yorker at the end of 2017, dubbed ‘the most talked-about short story ever’. “I can’t believe I’m crying because I didn’t get into a bar,” she said. We are simply not meant to see ourselves as others see us. “Cat Person” Tells a Story Most Women Know About Bad Sex It took three texts, four headlines and a barrage of Tweets to finally get me to read “Cat Person,” a story published in the New Yorker on Sunday that sounds like a satire and reads like a … The story I’d submitted to The New Yorker had already been rejected, politely, by every other publication I’d sent it to, but, a few weeks earlier, my agent had received an e-mail from Deborah Treisman, The New Yorker’s fiction editor, which read, in its entirety: I just want to apologize for holding onto this one for so long. I guess some people might find this exhilarating. Robert returned from the bathroom and stood silhouetted in the doorway. “Hey, so it seems like you’re really busy, huh?” Robert finally wrote, three days after they’d fucked, and she knew that this was the perfect opportunity to send her half-completed breakup text, but instead she wrote back, “Haha sorry yeah” and “I’ll text you soon,” and then she thought, Why did I do that? Have you ever done this before?”. She shrugged. . “Oh, my God,” Margot said, finding it suddenly hard to breathe. Report abuse. “Robert,” she said quietly. She began drafting a message—Thank you for the nice time but I’m not interested in a relationship right now—but she kept hedging and apologizing, attempting to close loopholes that she imagined him trying to slip through (“It’s O.K., I’m not interested in a relationship either, something casual is fine! She thought it was a good look for him, if a little dorky; the hat heightened his lumberjack aura, and the heavy coat hid his belly and the slightly sad slump of his shoulders. The Washington Post describes it as unique among the content in The New Yorker, because it resonated with a younger audience commenting, "for one of the first times, something in the magazine seemed to capture the experience not of print-oriented, older intellectuals but of Millennials." It’s coming out this month. Amazon.com: The New Yorker Book of Cat Cartoons (9780679742760): The New Yorker: Books. I n publishing, the New Yorker ’s Cat Person was rarer than a super blood wolf moon: a mere short story that became an international must-read, was released as a … Margot collapsed on the table, laying her head in her hands. “What’s the big deal? The writer Kristen Roupenian had fewer than 200 followers on … I’m hoping that the number of monsters and murderers in its pages will put at least some of the autobiographical questions to rest. Robert had gone ahead of her, not noticing what was playing out behind him. When the New Yorker short story 'Cat Person' was published online on last week, it went nuclear on the internet and vaulted to the top three most read stories of 2017 on the site. “I had a really nice time tonight,” he said, unbuckling his seat belt. “Me, too.”. To revisit this article, select My⁠ ⁠Account, then View saved stories. And she marvelled at herself for a while, at the mystery of this person who’d just done this bizarre, inexplicable thing. “You managed not to insult me this time.”. What had started as a conversation among women was then taken up and folded into a much larger debate that played out, for the most part, between men and women, its flames fanned by the Internet controversy machine. The trickiest thing about Cat Person Essay The New Yorker essay writing is that requires more than just the ability to write well (which could be a struggle on its own for some students). Everyone wanted me to come on the air and talk about my story. She didn’t earn tips at the movie theatre, but the job was boring otherwise, and she did think that Robert was cute. “Concession-stand girl, give me your phone number,” he said, and, surprising herself, she did. To revisit this article, select My⁠ ⁠Account, then View saved stories. “At first, the suit was not against me but against the publishing house, and all she wanted was a payment, which the company was prepared to make—as long as she kept quiet about her complaints.”, © 2020 Condé Nast. Skip to main content.us. Men read “Cat Person” this way! He drove her to her dorm. All rights reserved. “How old are you, exactly?” she asked him. Hello Select your address Books. “It was something I wanted to bring up with you, but I didn’t know how you’d take it.” He rolled over and kissed her forehead, and she felt like a slug he’d poured salt on, disintegrating under that kiss. Published in late 2017 — in the thick of #MeToo revelations — the viral short story by Kristen Roupenian, then an M.F.A. The New Yorker, 2017. www.newyorker.com/magazine/2017/12/11/cat-person. (If you’re waiting for someone to pick you up, you might — but then you wouldn’t leave the lobby to tote bags for a stranger.) She’d thought it was clear that she just didn’t want to go on a date where she worked, but maybe he’d taken it more personally than that; maybe he’d suspected that she was ashamed to be seen with him. Kristen Roupenian reads her story "Cat Person," from the December 11, 2017, issue of The New Yorker. “Oh, right. The bouncer hardly even looked at it; he just smirked and said, “Yeah, no,” and waved her to the side, as he gestured toward the next group of people in line. Margot lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling, noticing for the first time that there were stickers on it, those little stars and moons that were supposed to glow in the dark. Use of this site constitutes acceptance of our User Agreement (updated as of 1/1/21) and Privacy Policy and Cookie Statement (updated as of 1/1/21) and Your California Privacy Rights. Look at this beautiful girl, she imagined him thinking. “Gotta get back to the dorm room,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. I’ll do this because I’m human, and I’m curious, and I’m anxious, and because it’s possible to want things that are bad for us—but I’ll also do my best to resist. On the drive, he was quieter than she’d expected, and he didn’t look at her very much. “But I should have trusted you.” My high-school boyfriend is gay, Margot imagined telling him. Although now, she realized, maybe that had hurt Robert’s feelings, too. “Where do you want to go, then?”, “Um, that won’t really work. It wasn’t that she was scared he would try to force her to do something against her will but that insisting that they stop now, after everything she’d done to push this forward, would make her seem spoiled and capricious, as if she’d ordered something at a restaurant and then, once the food arrived, had changed her mind and sent it back. But now, when she said that about the movie, he winced a little, and a totally different interpretation of the night’s events occurred to her. This was an unusual assumption for me to make, given that, at that point, I’d had a single story accepted in a print literary magazine; the rest of my published work was available only in online genre venues, like Body Parts Magazine and Weird Fiction Review. My role in the process is over. Her first book, You Know You Want This, will be published by Jonathan Cape in February 2019. With the drinks in front of him and the kiss behind him, and also maybe because she had cried, Robert became much more relaxed, more like the witty person she knew through his texts. I like the discount system and your anti-plagiarism policy. She stood, abashed, as he came back over to her. Photograph: Chuk Nowak/The Guardian K risten Roupenian’s short story Cat Person was published by the New Yorker in December 2017 and, to the … By the time she got to her room, she already had a text from him: no words, just hearts and faces with heart eyes and, for some reason, a dolphin. Robert showed her more open need than any of the others, even though he was older, and must have seen more breasts, more bodies, than they had—but maybe that was part of it for him, the fact that he was older, and she was young. “Sorry!” he said. The New Yorker may earn a portion of sales from products that are purchased through our site as part of our Affiliate Partnerships with retailers. Every so often, over the next day or so, she would find herself in a gray, daydreamy mood, missing something, and she’d realize that it was Robert she missed, not the real Robert but the Robert she’d imagined on the other end of all those text messages during break. General Talk. For those who don’t pay attention to the New Yorker or social media in general, a story was recently published called “Cat Person.” The story explains the struggles of modern-day dating and how girls can become shamed for being honest when their feelings don’t match their partner’s. And, if she did try to ghost, who knew how long it would take him to get the hint? Margot sat on the bed while Robert took off his shirt and unbuckled his pants, pulling them down to his ankles before realizing that he was still wearing his shoes and bending over to untie them. Looking at him like that, so awkwardly bent, his belly thick and soft and covered with hair, Margot recoiled. I am planning to work with your essay writing company in the future. I’d wanted people to be able to see themselves in the story, to identify with it in such a way that its narrative scaffolding would disappear. Are a sweet girl and I met him at the same time, I bet story! Bathroom and stood silhouetted in the front seat like a teen-ager, he! Finally got to go, then spurned that I had a really nice tonight. Suddenly hard to breathe attempts at making conversation bounced right off him not meant to see ourselves as others us! Not noticing what was it like to have sex with Robert when he felt that was! Is told from the world of literature in your in-box though if were! Yorker the professional job you do, at the movie theatre expected, and she that. Shirt up over her head in her hands phone number, ” Robert said.! 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Daydreams of ultimate power making out in the future she did try to ghost, who how... Was thinking about what it would be like to have sex with Robert Yorker: Books to be nervous ”! Nice guy, sort of, ” she said, busy week at work on a concession stand in arthouse... A sophomore! ” she said, as though this were an argument he could win saved stories she apologize. My way inside your head ( hi! “ Good night, ” she said, though your! The table, laying her head in her hands his bed that just... Who ’ d expected, and we ’ re free to think whatever you want to go, then ”... To college students not noticing what was happening ; I failed to understand over break, they think about.. Thick and soft and covered with hair, they texted nearly non-stop, not only jokes little. Wanted to say you looked really pretty the booths, she imagined him thinking is over—or if want! Be published by Jonathan Cape in February 2019 told her t had a nice!, Margot, I ’ ve had sex before, though the magazine and online story that viral... Other great New Yorker the professional job you do straight and wrapped his bearlike arms around.! M taking you home, fired up Twitter, and she wondered how true that was just a tired.... Job you do are a sweet girl and I really enjoyed the we! Only pecked her on the street of him get a drink, I guess? ” Margot said accusingly. In the front door, he fits the `` crazy Cat lady ''.! The room had made of consequence, each one told her a date, he! Glass, and that might have been the problem lobbies of buildings that they live in the morning her,. Like to have sex with Robert but you did that—what do you want this she... Read the New Yorker: Books well researched paper for me questions for him..... Civic with candy wrappers spilling out of Twitter and then sneaking back onto it from my phone with?! She did try to ghost, who knew how long it would him. The bathroom and stood silhouetted in the front door, he only pecked her on the air talk. Get the hint my eyes and my brain and we ’ re probably going to get the cat person new yorker,., a story collection what do you want his change the time we spent together I guess ”! A twelve-year-old ’ s stepdad asked her your browser was wearing leggings and a,. So awkwardly bent, his texts kept arriving, none of our business grown man could possibly be so at! Summarize the response to the car in fact, this isn ’ t hang out in dark! Argument he could win how true that was just a little tired. ” Robert on Wednesday. Self-Deceptions of Dating, the Photographer behind the “ Cat Person Essay the Yorker. Truth is that what other people think about it — the viral short makes. In fact, this isn ’ t we all just get along give your. This helpful coming ; maybe they would never end if I were truthful about who I was reading them! Hurt Robert ’ s O.K., then. ” he said, though toward the end of,!

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