CRIME AND COVER-UP: Diary of a Marked Woman

April 2004

Sun. 04 No more green. I mean the moola, dinero, bread. So my diet has been getting worse lately. I had some homemade goodies in the freezer: slow cooked chopped leeks in little jars, and tomato sauce too. It went awfully well with the rice and beans, or pasta and beans! I recommend it. But now everything's gone of the fun stuff. All I've left is beans and rice. Almost all my fat is gone: butter and olive oil, and almost all my sugar too. I don't have enough money to buy both fat AND sugar so I'll have to make a hard choice soon... unless the RMI comes through on the 7th. Then the money will make-up the deficit and there won't be much left for me.

This is RIDICULOUS! I mean it's more than ridiculous, it's OUTRAGEOUS! Mother a millionnaire, brothers and sisters six of them, some owe me money too, plus the inheritance, plus a parent's duty to give food money to his/her child even grown up... and I'm starting to starve. I can't believe it but it is true, sadly, sadly true. I haven't had anything to eat for breakfast and afternoon tea for ten or fifteen days because I can't afford bread.

Still I have good spirit. I've been singing lots of French and American songs, and even some German ones from the three Penny Opera. I realize that I have learned lots of songs even before my voice came back in the hope, or with the trust, that it would eventually come back. And now I sing my head off! My voice is exactly the way I wanted it to be when I was young. And I sing all kinds of fun rhythms: Java, Tango, and I accentchuate the rhythms because it's a lot of fun. I'm so happy I'm no longer depressed! So, so happy! I'm the way I was before too much abuse got to me.

This week-end I got busy doing some MOLAS for the first time, small ones just to try out the technique. I always was amazed by this process where you cut the fabric out to reveal the layers underneath, what some people call "reverse appliqué". I did one with right angles and one with concentric circles just to test the thing and I'm pretty satisfied with the result of the trial. The background is black and the two other colors are blue and yellow.All these little stitches that used to put me off before, I did them and enjoyed the process. Back in 1991 or 1992 I did some molas with suede so I didn't have to hem in the appliqué. I did the round part of a beret with dark grey suede in the shape of a cloud bordered by silver leather on a sky-blue background. You know, the silver lining of every cloud... back when I was recovering from the "accident".

Mon. 05: So yesterday as I was leaving home for some time at the internet spāce who is there waiting for me on the sidewalk in front of the door? Norbert's good friend Nar Sene, a Senegalese man of about my age. He said he gave up trying to talk to me (of course, I never answer the door). Said that he went to Senegal and was thinking of me in Senegal! Imagine, somebody thinking about me in Senegal! I'm tickled pink. Then he said "It's not as complicated as you think! Come on, let me buy you a drink!" I guess he was referring to the situation with my family not being as complicated as I think. I wish I was wrong! I told him he was Norbert's friend and I'm not on good terms with Norbert. He said it did not matter, he was also my friend but I declined.

Sent an e-mail to Sophie saying even if she does not admit to anything she still could give me some money to feed myself as my sister, and that if the family was trying to make me censor my website by starving me they would be disappointed because I'll starve to death before I recant on anything I said on this site. I said sooner or later TRUTH WILL OUT and despite the suffering and frustration the family inflicts on me I wouldn't trade places with them because I have a deep serenity that only honest introspection can bring whereas seeking riches they have chosen fear and anxiety because they have to worry all the time about covering their tracks and setting their stories straight.

Sat. the 10th: Called my account manager on the 6th to ask for permission for extra 50 euro, after I got news my RMI allowance had been approved by CLI committee. The bank lady said I had already maxed out my overdraft for 56 days instead of 30. I said that I knew and told her of the undeserved suspension of my allowance, the fight to get it back. She said she needed proof of the approval and to ask the RMI to fax her the proof. I said this was a heavy govt bureaucracy, they wouldn't do it or do it too late and couldn't she take my word? What happened to people 's word of honor? She wouldn't have it so I biked to the RMI office (nice little small streets-neighborhood ride) to pick up the letter of approval and faxed it to the bank lady as per her request. Next day I tried to withdraw 50 euros but couldn't so I called the acct mgr again.

She kept me waiting while she looked for my file and acknowledged receipt of the fax. She said I could withdraw 50 euros only the day after. Since I had already explained everything to her the day before and she had agreed on a condition that I had fulfilled the same day, it would have been the correct and humane thing for her to do the small computer work right upon receiving the fax but no, I had to call her again, and then she said that I had to wait another day for the computer to register the information. So I was losing the advantage by her delay because the RMI money might well be transfered to my account by then. "But aren't computers supposed to make operations instantaneous?" I asked, disappointed. She answered that she was doing me a favor, that she was under no obligation to let me withdraw the extra 50 euros and I should consider myself lucky that she allowed me to do it tomorrow. Bitch couldn't be 100 percent nice, she had to put some nastiness in her favor.

Knowing I was going to get money I shopped for food (oil, butter, cheese, sugar, honey, pasta coffee tea and cookies) and paid with a check both times, then Friday got the fifty bucks and bought fruit and veggies. Lady gave me 4 overripe avocados for 2 bucks so this morning I went back to exchange them. They shouldn't try to sell overripe avocados! You can't pick your own fruit and veggies at this stand, they pick it for you. Next time I'll play touchy-feely with the avocados before putting them in my bag. Oh, you have to stay vigilant every minute or someone's gonna gyp you. Like my family's not enough.

Been working on a MOLA these past few days. The design is a traditional good-luck graph from Mongolia. I learned a lot doing it and the next one will be much better. I also invented an iron dust-cover so a clothes-iron can be left standing in the apartment without offending the eye or catching the dust, which I think is an improvement because these things are a pain in the neck to handle when not in use, what with the cord, the water that drips all over the place etc... Now you can leave your iron smack in the middle of the living room where you do your ironing without it looking like you live in a broom closet, because the iron dust-cover looks like some strange textile sculpture, a conversation piece if you need one.

Oh, Mom! It's Easter tomorrow!


Fri. the 16th: Ran out of cash again. Attempts at securing same from brother No and sister Sophie have been in vain so far.

Here are some e-mails exchanged with Sophie since beginning of March:

March 5 1615H (Bri to So) * March 5 1800H (So to Bri) * March 7 (Bri to So) * March 11 (So to Bri)
April 5 (So to Bri) * April 13 (Bri to So) * April 13 (So to Bri) * April 15 (Bri to So)

Sun. the 19th: I expected two months RMI allowance on my account but got only one so my balance is still negative. Went to see CAF to ask why not the second month. Lady said that what was transferred to my account was the month of March and that I'll get the month of April allowance in May! She also said that the suspension of my allowance was decided by the CLI commission, which is UNTRUE as only one person (Elisabeth Biern) took that decision instead of a committee, in violation of the law. She also said that the office she received me in, where I could sit down, in contrast to the other contact spots that were only WINDOWS where the people had to stand, was intended for people with handicaps. I said it was much more comfortable to be seated. I don't know if she meant to tell me that she believed that I was disabled just from looking at me. It occurred to me later it might have been her intention: I had some trouble getting into that office, that was kind of visible behind a smoked-glass short corridor but whose entrance was hard to find. And the "helper" at reception told me "Window number 7" when a bell rang, and I went there, but nobody was at that window, and then the "helper" pointed somewhere else saying "There, there!" and I saw the door to the office ajar behind two layers of smoked glass. "But this is not window 7!" I said when I finally found the entrance to that office, and then to the lady "The entrance to your office is not obvious!" Is that the special office they keep for people they're trying to gently steer to the COTOREP in order to induce them into thinking that they're coo-coo? Anyway to claim a special treatment as a pwd, you need to get yourself recognized as such. I know my folks are dying for me to be labeled as mentally ill, this would take all my claims of criminal behavior off their shoulders in one fell swoop and once my credibility was destroyed they would be able to enjoy the fruit of their crimes unhindered. So the more they claim that I'm nuts, the more they are actually confessing to their guilt, because if they were innocent they wouldn't need to label me nuts.

That's why, shortly after I returned to France in the Spring of 2002 my mother asked me with this accusatory tone of hers "Did you register with the COTOREP?" "The WHAAAT?" I asked. And then she explained that it was for pwd (mental) and I said I felt fine, I wasn't mentally disabled. So she said "Yes but I think you're not able at this point to handle a full-time job," as if my well-being was her only concern. With all the unemployment anyway, there was no chance of my being employed full time. Ha ha. And then Sophie some time later asking me why didn't I want to sign up with COTOREP. I could get a disability allowance! Oh! Leave me alone with COTOREP already! I told her I had no intention of being labelled as mentally ill. I think it's easy to understand. Or should I embroider it for them on a little cushion?

I checked something on the internet about the CAF and the RMI and learned to my great surprise that this allowance is granted people who request it for three months even before they give all the necessary proof, and then they have to sign a "contrat d'insertion where they commit themselves to doing things to reintegrate a productive life. So why did my sister Sophie tell me that I couldn't collect this allowance for three months after I signed up with this social service on Vincent Auriol blvd two or three days after my return from the USA?

I sent Sophie an e-mail asking her why she had said that, preventing me from collecting for 3 months when I was entitled to the allowance, and asking her for the address of the social service she had sent me to. Then I rode my bike along that section of the blvd I remembered from 2 years ago, on the even numbers side and near the NATIONALE subway station (elevated) that is only one stop away from Place d'Italie, where (back in 2002) I would have to transfer to visit my brother. I remember when I came out of the social service office it was hot and I didn't feel like climbing the stairs to take the subway, didn't feel like walking to place d'Italie, and ended up taking my first cab ride that had a 5 euro minimum charge.

Tues. the 20th: So when on March 23rd Sylvie Hervieux the RMI woman told me I would get a "rappel", which means a back-allowance IN ADDITION to the regular monthly allowance, I told the internet-space man that he could present my check for payment in mid-april and since I got only one month instead of the two I was promised, the check bounced and my bank sent me a letter forbidding me to write anymore checks, unless I fixed the situation by mid-June. Bravo RMI! They're supposed to help people "fight against exclusion" and their way of doing it is to violate the law, violate their rights, deceive them and make them lose the ability to write checks!

This morning I went to the RMI office with a printout of the law that says the INTAKE service is supposed to help people claim their rights to alimony before granting them the RMI allowance ane I expected someone to help me do the paper work. I spoke to a young woman who, after I explained what I wanted to her, fetched Hervieux who changed the subject and talked about my file not having been sent to the new SUPPORT location yet. I talked to her about the alimony that this INTAKE office and not the SUPPORT one was supposed to handle according to the law but she said that I had to wait until the office manager returned next week. She's trying desperately to send me to the cut-throat place rue des Reculettes, (she says "Why don't you go there with a friend?" and I say "I don't have any friends.") or else she asks me to wait when I'm totally broke and she knows every days counts. Yesterday when I talked to her on the phone and told her how hard-up I am she sent me to the "Exceptional Allowance" service at the 13th district City Hall, where I had to endure some more bureaucracy and a lady who let me understand that I had two months to provide the proof of residence etc. (the French call these proofs "justificatifs", they LOVE that word!) and that I would be notified in due time of the decision of the commission on my application and if not, I had two months to appeal the denial of my application. So why did Hervieux send me to a place where I had to wait several months when she knew I needed cash now?

I told her it was her fault my check had bounced because she had told me I would get a RAPPEL and I got only one month. She denied that she had talked about a RAPPEL, I insisted that she did talk about it, she said that allowances are transferred after the end of the month, which means that what I got in mid-April was the March allowance. I said "And you claim to help people fight against exclusion! My foot! You push them down instead! It's because of you my check bounced and I can't write checks anymore!" After she was gone I told the younger one that I didn't let people do me in, that they were not finished hearing about me and that it was going to cost them a lot.

Tues. the 27th: I think the people at the RMI office and at the bank La Poste do everything in their power to prevent me from getting the alimony from my mother that I'm entitled to and that I need because she doesn't let me work. The bank charges me 28 euros for every check under 50 euros that bounces and there are three of these, and 35 euros for every check over 50 euros that bounces, and there are two of these. Total: 126 euros just because these five checks bounced. But there must be a law that requires a piece of paper for every movement on a bank account and the bank hasn't sent any kind of statement of charge, but Mrs Jubault confirmed today on the phone what Mr Colas said to me last Fri. the 23rd when I met him in his office: that this is the going rate for bounced checks. But still no piece of paper and I don't think this is normal. There should be something in the mail saying "We charged your account 28 euros for check number XXX that we were unable to pay because of insufficient funds" or something like that.

So I'm in this totally stupid situation where I think I'm going to get back to a positive balance only to fall further behind because after the allowance was credited my balance was -182 and now because of the bounced checks it's -303. And when I told the woman I needed the money to assign my mother to court for alimony and could she not extend to me the 100 euros I needed for the service fee, that I was sure to get the alimony and that once I had the service fee money I was out of trouble, the woman Mrs Jubault answered that after my balance was back in the black my allowed overdraft would be re-calculated... which did not answer my question at all.

When I went out I found an unspooled cassette on my bike by a band named Noir Desir (the star singer Bertrand Cantat beat his girlfriend to death last July while I was at mom's house) and the title of the cassette was "Why don't You Drop Dead" or "How About Committing Suicide?" or something like that. I know, they can't kill me so all they can do is hope I'll kill myself, but I don't wanna, nyah nyah, nyah!

So, after all these e-mail exchanges with my sister Sophie I have made it clear that I have excellent reasons to believe that she was acting in cahoots with mom all the while saying the vilest things about her to make me believe she hated her guts.

Thu. the 28th: After writing a letter to one of the RMI managers asking (for the 2nd time) for an advance on my allowance, another letter to the RMI manager Mrs Beatrice Meyer asking (titled "2nd REQUEST") for the 2nd time that they help me file an alimony request against my mom because they are supposed to do this before granting the allowance, and a letter to the bank manager reminding him that the RMI allowance cannot be held up in a lien (the five bounced checks cost me a total of 126 euros) I went out and found my mother in the street waiting for the phone to be free. I approached her and told her she hadn't answered my letter of March 24 where I reminded her that motherhood involves "not only privileges but also responsibilities". And as I thought when after two weeks I still had no reply, my mom just hates the word "responsibility". Talk about it to her and nobody's home. So I was furious because this past month has been really hard on me with no money and bounced checks and all the attending nasty letters and people who are supposed to help not helping. So I was furious at mother, told her I hadn't been eating enough for the past two months, and guess what she replied? -"Oh, then you'll have some of my olive pound-cake, it's in the car."
-"I need more than pound-cake! I asked you several times for 1500 euros, several months ago!"
- "But I had to buy a new car..."
- "Well, you can sell the old one!"
- "That's what you think! It's not as simple as that! And I had to have the terrace work done." -"You told me the same thing last year!" (see March or April 2003)
-"You'll have to see the notary, tell him how much you've received from the estate."
I looked at her, puzzled.
-"It's a new notary", she explained.
-"Wait, wait, wait!" I said. You're mixing everything. I'm talking about your obligation to provide for me, not about the estate. The notary has nothing to do with the alimony so why are you bringing him in now?
I saw her take a twenty euro bill out of her purse and hold it as if she was waiting for me to snatch it and run away to buy food.

-"Are you serious? I asked you for fifteen hundred euros and you want to give me twenty euros!"
-"It's an excellent time to do some clean-up on your web-site. I've been told that on the page where you speak about Yoan Schnee there's a link to a story about collective rape! The idea! You're doing him a lot of harm! You have to remove this immediately! Personally I haven't read it" she added, to distance herself from the crime lest she appeared to have guilty knowledge, "but I've heard about it."

She was saying she had been mandated by her grandson, my nephew, to make me "clean-up" my website, that she was acting on his behalf, not in her own interest!

-"Well, why don't we print out what you don't like, sit down and talk about it? How about that? In the meantime I'm not going to remove anything from my web-site. I'm writing my life story and I have a right to do so. I almost felt compelled to tell her, right there and then "You know, mom, when I was nineteen I was gang-raped" but the total absurdity of it stopped me. First about telling my mother at age fifty-one about a gang-rape that happened when I was nineteen! Imagine the state of the mother-daughter relationship if the daughter doesn't say anything about it to her mother for thirty-two years! And then telling her on the sidewalk, a place that has no good connotation for women, and last but not least, telling her would be pretending that she didn't know about it while I knew that she had been the mastermind of this horrible crime! It was as if she had been manipulating me psychologically to make this false confession to her, thereby falsely proving her point, by telling her in the tone of a confidence, that she didn't know about it and give her grounds to make me remove frm my website this false defamation.

-"You won't have any money as long as you don't clean up your web-site.
-"I don't have anything to clean up because I haven't done anything dirty. What's dirty is the crimes that have been committed against me."

Then my mom asked me to get a doctor's certificate saying that I cannot work and I knew right away that she was asking me in so many words to get myself labeled as mentally ill so I exclaimed in a fury that I can bloody well work but that she doesn't let me. So she protested that last year she had given me money to buy all this fabric and pay for the seamstress, at which point I cut her and said, still very angry, that the seamstress had sabotaged every single bag she sewed for me and that none is sellable. "And I took your bags to my friends in Normandy and in the South of France..." "Yes but you prevented me from participating in the sale last June!

This dialogue made clear:
- that she may have prevented me from working all these years, since 1994 maybe (that is after the memory of the bus-accident-attempted-murder came back to me), but the evidence shows that she interfered with my work even when it was a teen-age summer job, and then she didn't let me go to college) to "prove" that I am unable to work because of mental illness, which would invalidate all my claims of the horrendous crimes that I was victim of.
-that all the money she gave me to start my business since my return was an investment to "prove" that she helped me and that I was unable to make a living, in other words she spent in excess of 6.500 euros in 2002 alone to buy herself an alibi. I wondered what she was up to back then when she offered to take some of my bags and scarves and sell them to her friends and family and now I understand: she was acting like the caring mother who's helping her mentally ill daughter! No wonder she seemed to particularly like the items that were the duds of the collection. I told her not to take them because they were only failed prototypes but she insisted that she liked them, and she liked them because they were duds! To prove that I am mentally ill! And my sister Sophie told her daughters and all her family that I was mentally ill too, that's why she took me to visit them right after my return from the US, while I was still overweight with my face bloated by the meds! I got it now! They've been telling everybody around that I am not right in the head, they tried every dirty trick they could think of to convince me I was nuts (more about that later) but I knew what game they were playing so I kept my cool. But it's only in the tone my mom used to ask me to get a doctor's certificate saying I can't work that I understood that it would validate everything they've been saying for these past years, whereas without it they look phony, they look like they have something to hide. It was as if she was begging me not to let her down now!

She fumbled with her bag and looking at it I saw that she had a clear bag with a plant of lilies-of-the-valley, the traditional French May 1st flower. "Well, at least take this," she said.
-"I don't want your flowers and I don't want your cake. You're trying to mollify me with these things but I'm talking about serious things, about my rights, and I've been starving for the past two months.
-"It's allright then, I'll give the flowers to Tina."
"-I asked Sophie to pay me the lawyer's consultation fee because she snatched that lawyer away from me but she didn't want to pay me the two hundred euros she owes me."
Mom made no reply and from her silence I knew that she knew everything about it.

The phone booth was free at last so she asked me to let her make a call. She made two or three calls and when she came out she asked to go to the Chinese restaurant downstairs. On the way we met Norbert and she said to him that she had to go to the bathroom as if anybody cared, and once inside she stayed downstairs for a long time, and when she came back upstairs the restaurant manager offered us some coffe or tea, which I refused, and I kept saying all the things Mom did to prevent me from working starting with not letting me go to college. She interrupted me saying we couldn't speak so loud in this place, and I said that she took me there. Then two men appeared from nowhere, one of them I think had a mop and a bucket, the other one I don't know, and they weren't doing anything, so I addressed them, saying "Gentlemen, you are my witnesses! This woman is my mother and she's been starving me for two months to force me to do something I don't want to do." I detected some embarrassment in the ensuing silence. The manager didn't say anything, nor did the men, nor did mom. It's only the next day I realized that these guys were here to threaten me silently! And I had addressed them to ask them to be my witnesses! These things happen only to me, but in a movie it would be hilarious!

I kept asking mom to write me a check and stood close to her to force her to sit down at the restaurant table, remembering P.J. Wodehouse sentence "Open your check-book and start writing!" only this time it wasn't funny. But she wouldn't! She wouldn't write me a check! Then she went out, I followed her and again I stood close to her to force her to sit down, she sat down awkwardly, the table was upset, the chairs disarranged, and again I asked her to write me a check and she refused. I looked at her. I didn't even feel like hitting her because I felt so emotionally remote from her. Hitting her would have been a gesture of closeness. But I felt angry and the idea of hitting her came to my mind, and it was this idea that made me realize that her own hostility towards me had never been expressed openly but in the most devious ways imaginable. This woman was my mother but my feelings for her as her daughter had died. All I saw was the thin-lipped criminal, the extortionist, the sex pervert, the rapist, the murderer who always hid behind seductive men, false female friends, disloyal doctors and lawyers, corrupt judges, huge institutions and staged accidents, the criminal with her halo of blond-whitish hair the same color as her overcoat and her red shoes. Norbert arrived and saw the disarray of the chairs. He seized my hand as if to prevent me from striking my mother but I hadn't made a move and I called him a "connard".

-"I have 600 euros for you upstairs, for your stereo system. If you'll come with me I'll give it to you right away."
-"I'm not going."
-"Why? This would put an end to this stereo problem we've been talking about these past months. Why don't you want to come upstairs with me?"
-"Your word's no good."
-"And what about the RMI?"
-"I'm having trouble getting the RMI."
-"Oh, come on, anybody can get the RMI."
He was offering me the two dangerous propositions I didn't want to try.
-"I've been starving for the past two months and mom owes me an alimony.
-"Come on, just because your life is a failure doesn't mean you have a right to bother your mother. She's almost eighty years old."

While me and Norbert were having this dialogues mom got up and crossed the street to go to her car. She was trying to give me the slip! We followed her and she stood for a while in front of the front of the car, I reitarated my request for a check, she her denial, then she rushed inside her car and Tina rushed inside too and sat by her side. I was completely flabbergasted. It was as if Tina was playing the game of supplanting me in my mother's life and heart. She sat expressionless while mom had a little cry. I couldn't believe she was crying. These were theatrics of course. Then a few xcops-on-bikes appeared and asked what was going on. I said what was happening in a few words, the cop told me to get a job. "And you think it's so easy to get a job these days, with millions unemployed? When you're middle-aged? If I take her to court I'll win so why does she force me to go to court? (Well of course now I know that she does her damnedest to prevent me from going to court!)

The cop asked to see my ID and he took my mother's too. Obviously he took her side because he asked me not to bother her anymore but said that if I wanted we could go to the station and have it out there. I knew there was no law to compel my mom from paying me alimony short of a court order from the Family Court (hence her resistance to go to court) but I could file a complaint for extorsion but didn't think about it then and, disgusted by the ploy to make me jealous of Tina I went to my bike and rode to the RMI office.

I gave the woman at the reception desk a letter for the Manager Beatrice Meyer. A black intake officer was sitting on top of the desk with an open file-folder as if he were showing it to the woman, a short haired blonde in her forties or fifties. The letter was asking for an appointment to help me claim the alimony owed me as she is obligated by Article 262-35 to do so before granting the RMI allowance, in other words all available means of support must be tried before the RMI is granted because this allowance is the last resort. In the letter I say that I have to wonder about the real mission of her office since my experience tends to show that her office is more interested in shielding my mother from her responsibilities towards me than in helping me.

I had another letter for Josiane Boe, the Delegate of the President du Conseil General, where I asked her for the second time to grant me an advance since on March 23rd Sylvie Hervieux had told me I would get two months allowance and had made all my plans accordingly, reminding her (J. Boe) that she was authorized to do so by Article 262-36. But the receptionist told me that it was the CAF that made the decision and I left without giving her the letter, then once downstairs I changed my mind and returned upstairs and gave her the letter, saying that I was afraid the CAF people would tell me it was not their decision, so she took the letter.

At the CAF the woman at the window told me that the allowance for April had been sent out already and the CAF would not give an advance until the 15th.

Then I went to a post office to get a print of the various fees to check that the 28 and 35 euros I've been charged for bounced checks are in the book. The first financial officer I talked to didn't have any of these and asked his colleague, who gave me one. Yes, the fees are there allright, but there is a maximum charge for four checks, so La Poste has unduly charged me for the fifth one. While there I also got a Western Union form and the lady told me where the proof the money was sent should appear, and I also mailed a copy of a letter to the branch manager at La Poste to Mrs Jubault at the Collection Department, reminding them that the RMI allowance is lien-free by law, therefore (I leave it up to them to draw the conclusion) the bounced checks charges cannot be taken against the RMI. Thanks so much mom, Mrs Fourlinnie, Mrs Sacalais, Mrs Meyer, Mrs Hervieux, for the hassle with the collection department, the nasty letters, the interdiction to write checks, the overdraft etc. Really, 'preciate it!

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