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Table of Contents

Hi friends!

Did you know that balance is tough to find? I’ve been volleying between being way too outside and canceling multiple days of plans in a row. My inconsistency with this newsletter should prove to you that I’m really trying to be a pro at my job. At a dinner party last night in which everyone had a miserable time cooking from the same poorly written cookbook and a glorious time subsequently realizing that everyone hated it, one of my friends said she has been fundamentally unavailable lately. I love that and relate. F.U.

Anyway, I might switch up the day of the week I write this newsletter. In My Previous Role, my Mondays used to be less busy so I could take my time sending this out. At least today you get three weeks of Current Fixations and a completely non-proofread narrative (why do I feel like I wrote the wrong version of hear/here somewhere?). I really want to get back to being consistent with you, but — like every flight I seem to be on lately — there’s lots of turbulence!

However, a big chunk of uncertainty has been neutralized because Meera and I signed a lease for a new place! Even in this newsletter’s infancy, I’ve talked about my aspirations to someday live in Pretty Brooklyn, a name I gave to the cluster of brownstone-lined neighborhoods around Prospect Park. Meera and I cast a wide net, looking at all sorts of places around this area (as well as near the Lorimer stop in Williamsburg) and ended up securing a spot in Park Slope.

Once my stuff is all moved, I will have turned in my gentrifier card. If I wanted to be a Park Slope gentrifier, I’d have to be older than my parents. Then again, the Bushwick-to-Park Slope pipeline is quite a stereotypical process for a girl like me to follow.

The wows and woes of apartment hunting

Apartment hunting is such a romantic act. I’m not talking about moving in with someone you love — I’m talking about the hunt itself. You are stressed and desperate because there are real consequences for not finding one and have to learn to play it cool, to be patient with finding the right place. You see the kinds of flaws you can accept or the boundaries you must set to get what you think you deserve. You’re genuinely changing your life each move and want to make sure you’re of sound mind, but you also have to act fast. You must be decisive and prepared, ruthless and passionate to lock it down.

In apartment hunting, I might be too romantic. I can convince myself that anywhere is the perfect fit because I can daydream my way into falling for anything. On my walk over to a tour, I imagine myself walking to my new home from this train station. Oh, that would be my grocery store. That old man pacing around is someone I’ll probably see every day and say hi to. There’s a cute coffeeshop next to that gym that I’ll belong to. Creating that dream life propels me to take a chance on an apartment.

It also allows me to ignore red flags or settle on somewhere that isn’t as great as I could get. This is why Meera and I are a good team. Usually I’m trigger happy, and she’s more cautious. I book more tours, and she talks me down when I get too in the weeds.

Last go-around I was already living here, and Meera was still in New England. I toured a bunch of places in a bunch of neighborhoods, using this opportunity as a way to learn more about all these areas I didn’t know much about yet. Now, we’re both much more seasoned, so this should be less annoying, right?

That doesn’t mean it wasn’t annoying, though! We probably started a bit early, but I just wanted to get in the groove of understanding the market. Unfortunately, I think it burned me out a bit. It all just made me tired. I was obsessively checking all the rental sites and tearing my days apart to venture towards tours that ended up being busts. It really zapped my energy. At least we got a place early enough that we could overlap a month with our current apartment, so we can take our time moving.

All of the places we toured fell into two categories: 1. Weird old charmer in an equally charming neighborhood or 2. Sterile unit in a luxury high rise with all the amenities you could want. One day of touring (one of the Mondays I punted on writing) was a great example of the dichotomy.

The first place we saw that day fell under the first category. The charm was in the extremely high ceilings with floor-to-ceiling windows, but the space had too many other cons. Plus, the property manager was on the tour with us and seemed super strict. I have children; I don’t rent to children, she said while explaining all the ways we would be punished for losing elevator keys or keeping the backyard door unlocked. It didn’t help that she had a goiter on the right side of her neck whose beckoning presence I forced myself to ignore as I lightly giggled at her threats.

The second place we saw fell under the second category and was too small for the price. We waited in a gaggle outside before our tour while a different gaggle toured; one person in our cohort left before we could even see the place. Ten of us awkwardly shuffled into some guy’s unit, just one of multiple gaggles he would sheepishly wave at throughout the evening. The apartment had a gym, but I’ve seen better in other buildings. While on the roof staring at Downtown Brooklyn below, our realtor said if we put down a good-faith deposit, he wouldn’t consider any other applications. This almost swayed me to apply because I knew I wouldn’t have to compete, but Meera and I discussed it in an empty, soulless park next door and knew we could do better.

The idea of having a deposit as a safety net soothed me because, like in romance, I hate rejection, especially after the one rejection we got in this apartment hunt.

Ethan Hawke rejected me

I knew this Boerum Hill place would be weird because the first picture of the listing was the outdoor space instead of where someone would actually live. On the inside, everything looked a bit haphazard. I sometimes take weird listings as good signs and reached out for a tour, but then remembered that I didn’t want to live on the first floor…and this unit was #1. I tried to cancel for the above reason, but the realtor said that it’s actually on the second floor. I decided to go and videotape it since Meera couldn’t join me.

It’s a ten-minute walk from the train, but it’s a ten-minute walk from a ton of trains. And, like, everything else. I could pick from multiple grocery stores to shop at, multiple pretty neighborhoods to lose myself in. I spent the walk falling in love, mentally writing stories about the tired pedestrians coming home from work. As I grew closer, the neighborhood got quieter, the trees connecting across the street from each other and forming arches over the road. Maybe this is the place.

The realtor let me and five other yuppies in athleisure or Mets gear inside. When you open the door, it’s just to the unit. You go up a flight of stairs, but you’re in your place the whole time. The entire structure is yours, so it’s like having a house. It was bigger than I thought it would be. Sure, the bathroom only had a tiny mirror, but the unit had laundry machines and a dishwasher.

What sold me was the outdoor space, which happened to be a roof. It’s huge and mostly yours. There’s a divider two-thirds of the way in with your neighbor, but it’s a ton of space for whatever you want. I could already see Meera’s DJ stuff set up, raising the roof with our friends. Or we could actually have real outdoor plants! I’m starting to get excited in my video to Meera, and I go down the fire escape and pass someone about to see the roof for the first time. I said It’s really nice! because I wanted them to be excited, but of course they didn’t even look at me because this is war. I forgot that romance can get competitive.

As if it couldn’t get more special, our realtor says out of nowhere that our next-door neighbor would be Ethan Hawke. I guess it’s his studio. This means that we would share a roof with Ethan Hawke. Maybe we would have light banter about the weather. Maybe we could bake him cookies. Maybe we could invite him to our parties when he’s on the roof at the same time. Maybe we could invite Maya. Maybe I’d become a movie star!

I asked the realtor about the application process. Now, New York brokers and realtors are some of the strangest characters I’ve encountered, but I decided to be cautiously optimistic when he said if I applied tonight I’d probably get approved.

Meera was on her way home from a few days in her hometown. I sent her the videos excited and nervous. I didn’t expect to love this place so much, and now I need her to answer immediately right now immediately. I know I can be crazy so please tell me if I’m being crazy. You are so welcome to talk me down, I said as I felt my imagination soaring higher than Brooklyn’s Eye of Sauron.

I sent the listing and video to a few friends (and my mom) in the meantime to see if I’m being crazy. All of them validated me and said the place seemed special. Meera finally had a break in working and could see my messages, saying she was prepared to hate it and actually liked it a lot. Once she was home, we discussed it and decided to pull the trigger.

We rushed through the application. It’s so scary to know that time is of the essence. We sent it all in, and I thought I would feel relieved. Instead, the next two days were marked by constantly refreshing my email. I wanted to crawl out of my skin; I could not know peace until we received a response. The first day was mostly fine since I assumed I was going to find out that day; I later happened to be in the neighborhood with Georgina and had her take my picture in front of the place. The second day, I felt more nervous. I knew that rejection was quite possible, but the verdict was taking longer than we were told it would. I couldn’t help but put myself on hold.

When the rejection came in, I was so frustrated at knowing that I was back at square one. I didn’t know what I could be doing differently to stand out with my application. Georgina told me that Taylor Swift had a hand in approving her neighbors’ applications because she wanted to make sure they wouldn’t be freaks with her next door.

What I mean to say, did Ethan Hawke not like my vibe? What about me and my girlfriend wasn’t enough for the star of Before Sunrise? I contemplated this on my walk home from my gym, passing a billboard for a movie that came out last Halloween. Wait, what’s the movie? Black Phone 2, starring Ethan Hawke. He followed me.

Rebounding

As I mourned what could’ve been and the energy I spent building it up, I knew I had to get back out there. One of my friends said she toured 40 places, another said he applied to 20 before finding his place. Yeesh. I toured a few other duds, including a two-bedroom off of Flatbush Avenue (busy street, my non-New Yorkers) currently occupied by a couple whose answer to why they were moving was too vague that I think they just broke up. The place was not big enough and didn’t have enough natural light to make the place worthwhile.

I was just tired. I had so much work to do that day postponed some of it so that I could tour this place. I was just frustrated. The gym will make me feel better, right? Turns out a brand-new Planet Fitness opened up a fifteen-minute walk away in Park Slope just last week. It was so new that the workers excitedly told me to have a great workout after I signed in. I proceeded to have a lovely workout at one of the nicest PFs I’ve been to, remembering that there are so many cool places out there for me…and even the duds will show me a new Planet fitness.

Slopey seconds

That Friday, the realtor for the Hawke neighbor place reached out to Meera and I, telling us about an open house he was having in Brooklyn Heights. Sure. Not sure if this place is what we want, but maybe we’ll have a better chance this time. On our way over, Meera was looking at places on StreetEasy and reached out for a tour of this really cool unit in Park Slope listed that day. I didn’t think much of it until we were in the doorway of the Brooklyn Heights place, and the Park Slope realtor said she was at the place for another hour if we wanted to swing by. We planned on going after this tour.

Another dud, but I was ready to fantasize. Crown molding, high ceilings, fireplace, dishwasher, tree-lined street in Brooklyn Heights! But Meera rightfully could not get over the extra table the tenant had so she could fit all her dishes somewhere. The realtor said if we applied to this one, we could get approved that day. Now that is what I want to hear, but I didn’t need to make a decision until after seeing the other place.

The train was running with delays, and we were arriving later than we said we would to Park Slope. We rushed over to the unit and were greeted by our realtor, an older Cuban lady with a warm smile. Very different vibe than the other people we’ve met in this process! We were all alone looking around the apartment, newly remodeled and ticking off all of our boxes. Dishwasher, in-unit laundry, central heating, wraparound kitchen counter…and the price was right. I should have known from when we found our Bushwick place that Meera and I have to be on the tour together when we stumble upon the right spot.

Our realtor was giving us tips on how to apply and what the landlord was looking for, and then our lateness paid off — the landlord arrived at the place as we were about to leave. We shook hands and had a nice conversation; he seemed really warm. Our realtor walked with us up the block, and she said if we applied before 6 p.m. she could send it over to him and get us approved. She had an open house the next day, so getting this done early would be a win for everyone. When we said goodbye, she hugged us and gave a little kiss on the cheek.

We ditched the coffeeshop for the bar, sitting outside on the same side of the table so we could look at each other’s laptops. Stress, stress, stress. Why are these application portals so unclear? A fly landed in Meera’s beer. Whatever. Done by 6.

Saturday arrives. I wake up refreshing my email again and again. Our realtor was responsive, but the landlord didn’t look at our application before the open house, so we were nervous that he would look at more apps. Thankfully, that afternoon she called us to tell us we got it. We received the lease that night, signed it, and wired our first month stuff (first time wiring money — I know this is a reality of NY apartment hunting, but why is it SO scary?). Everything was signed and approved and done on Monday.

I went by the next day to pick up the keys. I was so excited walking down my new street. I walked past a New York Liberty player on her way to practice, a building I toured when I first moved to Brooklyn, and a salsa studio. Each step closer to my new place felt like a blessing. Things are really only as important as you want them to be. This is a moment that’s fun to make bigger. And I can turn off all of my apartment siteemail notifications

What should have been a five-minute key grab ended up being an hour gabbing out front with my realtor and landlord, listening to them continually interrupt each other about exotic foods and Park Slope’s mafia history. I am in the right place. I walked right up to the park, 20 minutes away. Did I mention that my new spot is near that new Planet Fitness?

Although we’ll hire movers for the first time, we wanted to start moving some miscellaneous things this past weekend. We rented a Zipcar, excited to get some stuff done. I remembered that things are heavy and stairs suck. Also, everything takes so long. We also picked such random things. It was all taking so long, so we extended the Zipcar as soon as we arrived in Park Slope.

Romance is everywhere, though. We arrived to see a tiny tree in right front of our place and the cutest father-son duo are planting purple and yellow flowers around it. Turns out they are our next-door neighbors and invited us to the block’s WhatsApp group (approval pending). They said the tree hasn’t even been there for 48 hours, so our landlord must’ve planted it for when we moved in; our neighbors just wanted to beautify it because they are good community members. The tree will grow along with us!

We have so much to do, but this all feels really right. I kissed some frogs and found my Park Slope prince, hopefully. Like all of my best life transitions, I’m just so excited for this one to begin.

This week’s photo is from a little after I got my keys to the new spot!

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Current fixations I want to mention

Food & Drink

In my Pretty Brooklyn fantasy, I go to a bar like Barely Disfigured all the time. It’s everything I want in a bar: ample cozy seating inside and out, swanky enough vibes for a date or a girls night, a funny server that will tell you about a patron on a date inside with his feet out, and expensive drinks that are actually worth the money. I liked all my friend’s drinks, but I got The Crystal Clear Espresso Martini, which is a fantastic espresso martini that happens to be crystal clear. I’m excited to be living closer to this bar.

Chama Mama is a contemporary Georgian chainlet I was initially aware of because it’s open on Christmas, but I now associate it with my commute since they’ve been readying a location a block from my train station for over a year. I think half of the space looks like a normal restaurant, but I didn’t realize that the front half is the Let’s Chama cafe. They opened recently and are still working out the kinks, so it’s nice to pop in and see what new goodies they’ve added. I was in need of outside time two weeks ago and popped over, eventually ordering a kudbari egg and cheese, which is almost like a Georgian sausage egg and cheese. The attractive older, possibly lesbian owner heated one up for me, and I went outside to enjoy. The bread is high quality, the meat is nicely spiced, and it’s the perfect size for a lunchtime revival. When I returned inside, the attractive older (and possibly les…) manager told me You slammed that! Well. I thought I was just eating it, but I guess that’s a testament to how yummy it is. I also enjoy their cinnamon walnut latte.

I’m a simple girl — I go to an upscale Indian restaurant in Manhattan and think it’s the best thing since sliced paratha. Matt and I went to new Southern Indian spot Kidilum, so you know we had to ball out. Starting with drinks, I think the Manga was one of the best cocktails I’ve ever had. Tequila, passionfruit, a tiny gummy resting on an ice cube? There’s lots of other flavors that all work in such a surprising way. I later pivoted to some pinot noir. The small plates were my favorite part of the meal: chakka (jackfruit rounds? My favorite dish), chembu (taro), and the pork short rib (falls right off the bone). For mains, we got the goat (really good but kind of forgettable compared to how stellar everything else was) and the kalanji (barramundi is a fish I’ve only heard of in top chef episodes. This was so soft and in such a cozy sauce). For sides, we went with yogurt rice (weird but in a fun way), idyappam (I’m not sure how to describe this stringy bready thing, but it soaks sauces up so nicely) and parippu (daal I poured on the rice). We ordered a coconutty dessert whose name I cant remember, but I’ll never forget how beautiful it looked and tasted, a cloud of coconut…cream?…atop some sort of ice creamy thing in a pretty bowl. Service was great, and everything felt like a whole production, which I am a sucker for especially when it’s backed up by good food. I like Semma and Adda better for the general category of nice Indian restaurant, but I still loved this place and would call it one of the best meals I’ve had in awhile. I’m excited to see how the place evolves.

Music

You know I love my girl Tokischa, so I was so excited to listen to her debut album, AMOR & DROGA. This album is poppier (but still has that dembow beat going in a few places) and takes you on Tokischa’s sobriety journey. I am disappointed to report that I just wasn’t all that into it. I added a few songs to my playlist (mostly from the later half of the album) and am not sure if my ambivalence is the right perspective or not. And again, what kind of a critic am I if I don’t understand the language being sung? It feels kind of wrong to throw my nose up at someone’s art bearing their soul. I think when an artist known for surface-level/highly sexual/repetitive songs releases a deeper, more vulnerable project, it either really succeeds or falls super flat. The songs here all feel like they stand alone, but I just don’t think they stand strong. It’s not like I don’t like her voice on slow songs; I adore the meditative 2024 single “Chama” with Arca. I just feel like the natural whine of her voice — that I love so much — doesn’t suit most of the songs. My favorites are probably “DIVA Y DEPRESIVA” and “HEROINA” because they are the catchiest.

Hot weather rolls around, and I look for music that feels like it’s blooming along with the flowers. I want music worth frolicking to or for reflecting on a long walk. “Selfish” by Cleo Sol and Little Simz accomplishes both objectives. This is a pre-pandemic song, but I learned about it a month ago after Shazaming it at a coffee shop in Bed Stuy. It’s a great song to listen to while emerging from the train and climbing the steps up to a sunny day. The chorus is catchy, and the verses are cerebral. It’s boppy and contemplative, would fit great in an amusement park montage for a coming-of-age movie. You can listen to the main line of the song and either interpret it as I’m so selfish :D or I’m so selfish :(. I believe the former is the way we’re supposed to hear it though, since the song is all about knowing your worth.

I added this song late last year and don’t remember where I found it. I’m not sure why it’s just started hitting for me, but I think “Just Two Girls” by Wolf Alice is one of the best songs I’ve heard in a long time. I don’t know very many Wolf Alice songs, but Reddit perception has shown me that it’s poppier than their usual stuff and that lots of dudes really hate it — my kind of song! The song is a friendship anthem akin to Florence (of the Machine) and Gaga’s “Hey Girl.” It feels like it could be homoerotic but actually isn’t; the lyric like two kids in the park sounds like like to kiss in the park. I encourage this ambiguity since lines can sometimes blur between intense girl friendships and romance; real bestie love is stronger than many romantic relationships! This song perfectly captures the feeling of meeting up with one of your closest friends somewhere dark for dinner and drinks, talking about everything you can think of. A great friendship keeps you grounded while taking you to new heights, just like how the 70s-inspired piano intro immediately stabilizes me and the building pre-chorus elevates me. The video is fun, too.

Internet & Pop Culture

According to someone that isn’t Albert Einstein even though the quote is often attributed to him, insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. According to me, insanity is doing the same dumb thing over and over again and enjoying it more and more each time. One of the only good medication commercials I’ve seen is the 2023 ad for Jardiance, which is in the form of a somewhat catchy song. Recently, I started getting videos on my For You Page from a gay guy that passionately lip syncs the Jardiance jingle to the camera. He joyfully performs the song in a theater lobby, on a tennis court, and even at his own drag performances. I was cool with the first video of his that came up, but I enjoy him more each time I see him. I feel like he is my friend. The song is so funny. There is no other reason that I’m lowering my A1CeeeeEeee should be stuck in my head right now. Either he is just a silly guy or is a very powerful spy for Big Pharma.

Megan Thee Stallion. I will avenge you.

I’m somewhat sad to say goodbye to Spirit, the airline I’ve probably flown most often as a working adult. I enjoyed this video of Spirit flight attendants performing the opening theme of Hamilton to passengers on their final flight. I cannot think of a better unhinged activity for their last day.

Television & Maybe Movies

Too much Netflix for me these past few weeks. I am a year late to Building the Band, Netflix’s no-Diddy attempt at a Making the Band show. What a fun binge. I started watching this because of a song my friend Cam sent me by a boy band from the show. I liked the song (“What’s Your Name” by Soulidified) so much that I stalked their socials, learned that one of them dated someone else from a different band on the show, and decided to start from its origin. The worst part of the show is the beginning, a Love Is Blind-type process in which all of the singers listen to each other perform and picking whose voices they like without seeing what they look like. The bands then form through chats between performances, still without seeing each other. The first time each band sees each other is during their first performance (no audience aside from one of the Backstreet Boys who hosts and Nicole Scherzinger who coaches them), and each of them come out one by one to start singing their assigned song together. It’s actually the cutest thing ever and makes the blind audition process somewhat worthwhile. Then, the bands live in apartments together as they perform more songs and try surviving eliminations. My main frustrations with the show are how its process isn’t explained ahead of time (we don’t even know what the prize is for at least three episodes) and that we only see the bands cover songs (but I guess this show isn’t Building the Songwriter). Otherwise, I really enjoyed it and rooted deeply for the bands that made the top three. My favorite band was girl band 3Quency, particularly Wennely, a name I didn’t know was a name. I watched the whole thing in three days but could have done it faster if I tried harder. You get performances, interpersonal drama, and young people growing into themselves. If you also liked Netflix’s rap competition show Rhythm and Flow, I bet you’ll like this, too.

Roommates stressed me out, but I’m happy I saw it. An Adam Sandler daughter plays the protagonist, a dorky girl with an extremely chill Jersey Jew family who is hoping to redeem her friendless high school self when she goes to college. At orientation, she befriends a Señorita Awesome-esque, not-like-other-girls girl, and they become roommates. After what could be interpreted as a first meeting so good it was sapphic, Sandler daughter starts noticing peculiar things about her roommie. Roomie does more and more unexplainable, mean stuff to Sandler daughter that it eventually boils over. The movie was exaggerated, but I still felt like it realistically encapsulates a certain kind of white-girl friendship (watch it, and you will agree; this specific flavor of rich-girl fighting couldn’t be any other race) that girls like me have experienced. I got so much secondhand embarrassment watching Sandler daughter because, although I think I was slightly less dorky, I really empathized with her awkwardness and desperation for connection. Us prudes and/or nerds have relied on girls like Sandler daughter’s roommate to push us out of our comfort zones and validate us as worthy of coolness, and we have all outgrown them…hopefully. I also think the movie was the perfect amount of politically incorrect, making actually funny jokes without coming from a malicious place. You watch it and be the judge.

We know the Mormons a.k.a. the LDS very well nowadays. If you’re also a cults docuhead like I am, you know about the FLDS, a fundamentalist, polygamist offshoot of Mormonism who’s somewhat unmoored after their prophet, Warren Jeffs, was incarcerated for child sexual assault. Trust Me: The False Prophet is a Netflix docuseries about a couple that moved to an FLDS town to befriend the ladies and be there to help deprogram them if they want to leave the cult. During this, they met a shlubby guy that started marrying a bunch of kids, so they spent a ton of time filming them while covertly building a case against them to present to law enforcement. Of course local police was unhelpful, and it was interesting to see the whole case unfold. Thankfully, it has a mostly happy ending. This is a great show to fold laundry to.

Journalism & Literature

This American Life did an episode called “Bless This Mess” chronicling the complicated romance and lives of Paul and Essie Robeson, who were at one point some of the most famous people in America and have since, in many ways, been lost to history. Cheating, communism, and conspiracy theories!

New York Magazine does a house tour each issue, and I love seeing people with more wealth or generational New Yorker privilege than me outfit their oftentimes huge apartments. “The House Museum in Washington Heights,” is one of my favorite entries, showing off the home of artist and octogenarian George Nelson, who spent his childhood as a neighbor to Harlem Renaissance icons like Paul Robeson. His story is worth a read, and his house is an actual museum you can visit to see all the tribal art he’s collected.

Reading a good book I haven’t finished yet. The only article that stuck with me this week is obviously from The Cut: “Should We All Start Smoking Cigarettes Again?” This question was posed by a Gen Xer; if you walk outside of most New York bars on a weekend, you’ll see that Gen Z already answered yes.

Something I Saw in the Wild

I walked by a Mexican restaurant in my neighborhood I haven’t been to (Gordo’s Cantina) with a great chalkboard ad: Actual Yelp - Salsas too spicy, margarita too strong.

Ads in subway stations are often placed on top of each other, so if someone tears into the current ad, they can see ads past. Adchaeologists? Anyway, there have been these horrendous AI ads for Sketchers that have invaded my station for the past year plus. Someone tore into the most recent one, revealing the ad underneath for what claims to be Spotify’s top Afrobeats playlist. The visual is an AI rendering of a woman with an afro. Something about the AI ad stacked on top of another AI ad felt poetic to me in the moment.

I didn’t even get to tell you about my weekend at a spa in rural Pennsylvania with my mom, so you know I saw so many somethings in the wild! The one I’ll pick for you is a business I saw in a town called Bedford: Kim’s Kustom Kuts. Really!

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