Introduction
Summary of the Book Radical Honesty by Brad Blanton Before we proceed, let’s look into a brief overview of the book. Imagine opening a door to a place where you never have to fake a smile, hide your sadness, or pretend you’re someone you’re not. This place does not demand perfection, nor does it punish honesty. Instead, it rewards you with clarity, relief, and genuine connections. Such a space might sound too good to be true, but that’s precisely what radical honesty strives to create. It challenges us to step out from behind the familiar masks we’ve worn since childhood. It invites us to trade secrets for openness, anger for expression, and moralism for direct experience. By practicing truthful speech and acknowledging our real feelings, we can rediscover the timeless clarity we once knew before we learned to lie. This introduction marks the start of that liberating journey.
Chapter 1: Discovering the Womb’s Mysterious Stillness and the First Glimpses of Eternity.
Imagine drifting in a place without edges, where time feels like it does not exist, and where your earliest sensations melt together into a quiet calm. Before you were born, you floated in the womb, tucked inside gentle darkness. There, your body and mind were not yet tangled in rules, judgments, or expectations. You did not have to think about how to behave, what to hide, or who to please. In that hushed universe, nothing felt right or wrong; it just was. There was no sense of past or future, and no complicated moral codes pressed upon you. This peaceful timelessness was like a warm blanket wrapped around your entire existence. You were simply a being, pulsing with life, feeling each moment as endless, stable, and complete.
As your consciousness slowly sparked into awareness during those quiet months, every sensation felt pure and fresh. Perhaps there were soft sounds coming from beyond your watery boundary—muffled voices, distant music, or a gentle heartbeat. There was no name for them, no interpretation. Instead, you soaked in these sensory experiences as raw, direct truth. You did not classify them as good or bad, nor did you struggle to justify why they were happening. This state resembled a perfect kind of honesty, an honesty that needed no explanation because there was no concept of dishonesty yet. It was like tasting clean water for the first time, without even knowing what thirst or a cup might be. It was just the world as it was, bathed in pure immediacy.
But as you grew older, you left this boundless bubble behind. Birth thrust you into a complex environment filled with human expectations. Soon after arriving, people began shaping you, teaching you how to act, speak, and think. You learned words, and with words came rules. You learned that certain actions gain praise, while others bring frowns or punishment. The peaceful silence of the womb became a distant memory, replaced by a busy world of do’s and don’ts, of subtle nods and stern glances. As these lessons piled up, your mind started building frameworks—mental maps of how things should be. Over time, this invisible force shaped what you believed, how you viewed yourself, and how you communicated. The quiet honesty of unborn life faded into a soft, unreachable whisper.
That first taste of eternity and freedom had no name; it was just a sense of existing. Yet, as life’s instructions multiplied, you were taught to see everything through a lens of right and wrong, proper and improper, worthy and unworthy. This structure is what some call moralism—the state where your mind’s rules dominate your being. You lost that original clarity because you were handed a set of moral stories, beliefs, and codes that slowly replaced genuine experiences. These moral scripts guided your words, actions, and even your feelings, encouraging you to filter every truth through complicated layers of approval or shame. The gentle stillness of your earliest days was gone, replaced by a restless quest to meet expectations, fit in, and prove yourself worthy of love and respect.
Chapter 2: How Childhood Teaches Us to Hide Feelings Behind Good Intentions and Careful Masks.
As a child, you were not just learning to walk or talk; you were also learning how to behave in ways that pleased the adults around you. Parents, teachers, and relatives passed on their morality, hoping to protect you from danger and ensure you became a good person. They taught you to say please and thank you, to raise your hand before speaking, and not to color outside the lines—at least, not too much. While these lessons intended to shape a polite, respectful individual, they also began to curb raw expressions. If you felt angry, you learned you should hide it. If you were sad or hurt, you sensed it might be better to pretend nothing was wrong. Slowly, you learned to wrap your true self in pleasant disguises.
This moral schooling seemed helpful at first. It kept you from running into traffic, from biting your siblings, or from yelling in the supermarket. It helped society function smoothly and made your parents proud. Yet there was a hidden cost: you started seeing life through strict frameworks. Instead of trusting your own inner feelings, you looked outside, leaning on established rules. You formed a habit of measuring yourself against what others considered acceptable. You watched adults blame each other over spilled secrets or broken tools, and you copied those patterns. You learned that life’s messiness was best hidden behind politeness, so real feelings went underground. Over time, these buried feelings transformed into tension and anxiety, whispering that you were never truly free to be completely honest.
This pattern of copying adult behavior showed how field-dependence shaped your honesty. Imagine looking at a rotating rod inside a frame in a dark room. Field-dependent people rely on the frame to decide what’s straight instead of trusting their own sense of direction. Similarly, children learn to rely on society’s moral frame to define truth, good, and bad. They lose the ability to sense their own internal vertical, their own pure understanding of what they feel and think. Moralism is like using an external ruler for inner truths. It may seem safe, but it’s never completely accurate. It trains you to adjust your truths to fit the frame, rather than adjusting the frame to match your truths. Eventually, the honest clarity you once had in the womb dissolves.
This dependency on external rules—parents’ anger, teachers’ scolding, the neighbors’ opinions—pushes you toward dishonesty. Not blatant lying at first, but subtle dishonesty: pretending you’re not upset, biting back words of resentment, or acting like you’re pleased when you’re not. Over time, these quiet self-betrayals stack up. You learn that truth must be squeezed into polite shapes and that any raw feeling must be dressed up nicely to avoid disapproval. This is the silent birth of dishonesty as a survival strategy. The young child, like Stephen who was punished for making a messy lemonade surprise, begins linking truth-telling with risk. This teaches you that honesty can bring trouble, so it’s better to shade the truth, mask your emotions, and keep your genuine self safely hidden away.
Chapter 3: Becoming Teenagers Who Invent Identities, Hide Desires, and Choose Friendly Lies Over Uncomfortable Truths.
As you enter adolescence, your world grows more complex. Now, it’s not just about pleasing parents or obeying teachers. Suddenly, you care about your peers, your popularity, and your image. You start asking, Who am I? in earnest. Instead of calmly exploring that question, you feel pressure to find one answer and stick to it. Adolescence is a time when you might try on different identities, like costumes at a party, searching for the one that fits. But the truth is, no single costume can capture the full range of your thoughts, feelings, and dreams. Frustrated and unsure, many teenagers settle on a partial version of themselves—one that pleases their circle of friends, aligns with certain values, and hides parts that might seem odd or unacceptable.
This newly formed identity often becomes a convenient lie. It’s not necessarily an evil deceit, but rather a way to make sense of yourself amid confusion. You might pretend you’re always confident when deep down you’re nervous. Or maybe you act tough, pretending not to care, when really you hunger for understanding and closeness. Your desire to find who you are leads you to embrace a narrow story about yourself. You present this version to the world and hope it will be praised or at least left unchallenged. Over time, you may forget that you ever had a more honest core. Like painting over a messy wall to hide stains, you cover up uncomfortable emotions and become loyal to this invented identity—your chosen mask of adolescence.
As you grow more comfortable with this false identity, you also become more skilled at lying in subtle ways. You lie about small things: how you feel about a classmate, how much you enjoyed a movie, or what you really think about someone’s teasing. These minor lies form a pattern. Soon, bigger lies slip in. Perhaps you lie about who you’re dating, what you’re doing after school, or what you dream of becoming. Each lie may feel harmless or even protective, as if you’re guarding yourself. But the effect is that you move further away from direct honesty. Like layers of makeup, these lies cover your real face, until you might lose sight of what you genuinely look like underneath all this performance.
This pattern doesn’t stop after high school. It follows you into adulthood. The idea that you must hide your true feelings, avoid certain truths, and conform to external moral standards sticks with you. You become someone who reflexively nods when you disagree, smiles when you’re hurt, and responds I’m fine when you’re not. This practice is not just social politeness; it’s a habit that eats into your being. By the time you’re grown, lying feels natural. You might not even notice you’re doing it. You’ve constructed an identity that fits the frame of societal expectations. Ironically, this well-built persona often leads to stress, dissatisfaction, and a sense that something essential is missing. After all, you’ve been lying to yourself so long that authenticity now feels scary.
Chapter 4: Seeing Adult Life as a Tangle of Shrouded Feelings, Secrets, and Unspoken Truths That Strain Our Hearts.
As you settle into adulthood, the lies are no longer small childhood fibs or teenage poses. They become a structured way of living. You lie at your job by pretending you always love the work. You lie to friends by hiding your fears and insecurities, afraid they’ll think less of you. You lie to family by nodding along with their expectations, even if they suffocate you. These lies may seem like harmless compromises, but they accumulate, shaping the world you inhabit. Over time, you might not even realize how often you bend the truth. This constant dishonesty acts like a silent poison. It can create tension in your body, knots in your stomach, and a heavy feeling that never quite fades, no matter what you do.
On a deeper level, these lies keep your true self locked in a prison of your own making. You may even think you’re doing everyone a favor by withholding painful truths. If I admit that I’m unhappy with my career, you tell yourself, it will upset my family. Or If I speak honestly about my romantic disappointments, my partner might leave me. With these justifications, you convince yourself that silence equals kindness. Yet beneath this logic, tension grows. You feel frustrated, misunderstood, or unheard because nobody knows what you really think or feel. Others only know your performance, your carefully edited version of reality. This gap between who you are and what you show becomes exhausting, a quiet ache that never fully disappears.
It’s not just words that become dishonest—your entire emotional life can be twisted by these habits. Consider a person who believes they must never show anger. Over time, that suppressed anger might morph into resentment, cynicism, or even physical illnesses. Repression is not harmless. It’s a form of internal dishonesty, where you pretend that strong emotions aren’t there. Without the courage to say I’m angry or I’m hurt, you carry these feelings locked inside, draining your energy. The more you do this, the more detached you become from your genuine self. Eventually, you might forget what it’s like to be truly honest with yourself, let alone others. The weight of these countless hidden truths presses down, leaving you feeling tired, tense, and strangely alone in a crowd.
This quiet suffering hints at a solution: radical honesty. Instead of continuing the cycle of polite but false communication, what if you dared to be utterly truthful? Not just a little more honest, but radically so. This idea might sound scary. After all, you’ve spent a lifetime learning to soften truths and mask your feelings. Yet the path to true freedom requires you to step away from moralism and self-deceit. Radical honesty suggests that you cast aside excuses, stop blaming others, and begin acknowledging your genuine thoughts and feelings. Yes, it may shake your relationships and unsettle your life. But it also promises relief, authenticity, and the possibility of reconnecting with that clear, timeless awareness you once sensed before the world taught you to lie.
Chapter 5: Understanding Radical Honesty as a Bold Practice of Laying Bare the Raw, Unvarnished Reality.
Radical honesty is not about simply blurting out a fact or admitting you told a small fib. It’s about going all in—telling the truth so deeply that no hidden corners remain. Imagine tearing down the curtains you’ve hung over parts of your life and letting the sunlight flood in. This isn’t about moral judgments or being cruelly direct. Instead, radical honesty means describing your actual experiences and feelings without editing them to seem more polite, noble, or acceptable. It means owning your behavior, your desires, and your mistakes. It demands that you stop making excuses and truly present what is real. People who embrace radical honesty acknowledge their messiness, their imperfections, and their raw emotions as part of who they are, rather than trying to hide them.
This practice often begins by coming clean about secrets you have long carried. Perhaps there is something you’ve never confessed to your partner or best friend. You may think withholding this truth protects them from pain, but in reality, it weighs on you and creates a barrier between you. Telling the truth relieves this tension. It sets you free from the web of lies that keep you trapped. But radical honesty goes beyond just stating facts. It also involves expressing how those truths made you feel—the excitement, the shame, the fear, the pleasure—everything. Without disclosing the emotional reality, you’re still holding back. True honesty requires revealing not just what happened, but how it shaped your feelings, thoughts, and even your body’s reactions.
As you practice radical honesty, you might discover that your identity—the one you spent years crafting—is not as solid as you thought. You realize that much of what you considered your personality was actually a set of lies you told yourself. Instead of being a brave rebel, maybe you were just afraid of rejection. Instead of being gentle and forgiving, maybe you feared confrontation. Radical honesty allows you to see these truths clearly, without moralistic judgments. You’re not labeling yourself good or bad. You’re simply describing what you find. This can feel unsettling because it strips away comforting stories. But it also unlocks the chance to live more genuinely, to accept your flaws, and to welcome desires you once denied out of shame or confusion.
In this journey, you must learn to talk plainly about even the hardest subjects. Consider a situation of infidelity, a topic often clouded by excuses and half-confessions. Radical honesty would have you share not just the fact that you cheated, but every emotional detail—why it happened, what you felt, what it meant. This doesn’t mean you aim to hurt someone. It means you refuse to hide behind vague moral words. Instead of saying, I know I was wrong, but I had my reasons, you say, This is what happened, this is what I felt, this is how I acted. By describing rather than judging, you invite real understanding and genuine emotional exchange. Painful though it may be, this honesty can open doors to deeper intimacy and trust.
Chapter 6: Venting Anger as an Act of Truthfulness That Clears the Clouds of Repressed Emotion.
Anger is one of the most challenging emotions to express honestly. From early childhood, many of us learn that showing anger is rude, harmful, or dangerous. We try to be nice, swallowing our frustration rather than speaking up. Yet this emotional suppression is not heroic. It’s like plugging a volcano, expecting it never to erupt. In truth, unexpressed anger simmers underneath the surface, poisoning our interactions and corroding our well-being. Radical honesty suggests a different approach: giving anger a voice. Not a carefully edited voice, but a direct and honest one. Instead of sulking silently or exploding later, you speak clearly: I feel angry because… You do not label it good or bad; you simply announce it, allowing the raw truth to escape its suffocating cage.
Why is releasing anger helpful? Because it reveals hidden truths. When you openly admit that you’re mad at a friend for ignoring you, you learn something about your relationship—perhaps you feel neglected or taken for granted. Without honesty, you might have pretended it didn’t bother you, only to grow distant and cold. Anger, when expressed openly, can lead to greater understanding. It’s like shining a flashlight into a dark room. You see the messy pile of emotions you’ve been stepping around, and now you can start sorting them out. Radical honesty doesn’t mean you lash out cruelly. Rather, it means describing your frustration, disappointment, or hurt without moralizing it. You stop trying to twist anger into a reasonable form and just say what’s real.
This kind of truthful release can bring surprising discoveries. For example, a couple might argue in a therapist’s office. At first, they want the therapist to decide who’s right and who’s wrong. But under radical honesty, that’s irrelevant. What matters is that someone feels angry and another feels unheard. By shouting honestly, I resent you for ignoring me when I’m upset, a partner might suddenly realize that the root of this anger lies in a childhood memory—perhaps a parent who ignored their tears decades ago. Without honest anger, this insight remains buried, controlling behavior from the shadows. Through direct honesty, the couple can confront painful truths, then heal and understand each other better. It’s about clearing the emotional storm clouds to see what truly lies beneath.
Some anger might be unreasonable. You might feel annoyed at someone aging, or irritated by a baby’s cry. These feelings are not fair, but they are real. Radical honesty says: don’t hide them. Expressing them doesn’t mean you attack others; it means you stop pretending they don’t exist. When you speak them out loud, you acknowledge reality. Over time, this openness can release pressure. Instead of silently battling your irrational anger, you bring it into the light. Once recognized, it might fade, or at least lose its power to silently influence you. By continually practicing honest expression, you train yourself to face rather than flee from uncomfortable feelings. It’s another step away from moralism’s tight grip and toward living in alignment with your genuine experiences.
Chapter 7: Revealing Hidden Truths in Love and Intimacy to Forge Unbreakable Bonds of Mutual Understanding.
In romantic relationships, honesty often gets tangled with fear. You love someone and worry that telling the whole truth—about your past desires, your resentments, or your disappointments—might drive them away. But a relationship built on half-truths is fragile, like a house on uneven ground. Radical honesty pushes you to share even the most sensitive details. It encourages couples to openly discuss their entire life stories, including past lovers, secret fantasies, and the moments they felt drawn to someone else. This might sound terrifying, but it can also be liberating. Laying your soul bare allows your partner to know who you truly are, not who you pretend to be. Genuine closeness grows when both people are fully seen, flaws and all, without moral judgments hovering overhead.
This approach transforms how you communicate. Consider philosopher Martin Buber’s idea: sometimes you say I-you and other times I-it. When you say I-you, you recognize the other person as a whole, living being with their own complex feelings. When you say I-it, you treat them like an object or a role. By practicing radical honesty, you’re more likely to speak in an I-you mode. Instead of just accusing your partner of doing something wrong, you describe your feelings: I feel hurt when you ignore me, or I appreciate it when you listen. This sets a stage for real dialogue, where each partner can understand the other’s human complexity rather than reducing them to a problem to be fixed or a tool to meet their needs.
Radical honesty also invites a level of closeness that goes beyond words. The author of these ideas even suggests that couples share their full sexual histories and desires, and engage in acts of vulnerability like masturbating in front of each other. While this might sound extreme, it’s a metaphor for authenticity: nothing hidden, nothing shameful, nothing dressed up for social approval. Such openness dissolves masks. Without secrets, no one needs to worry about being caught. Without lies, resentment cannot build in silence. Partners become allies in truth, supporting each other in facing reality rather than clinging to comforting illusions. This doesn’t guarantee a relationship will last forever, but it does ensure that if it does last, it rests on a solid foundation of genuine understanding.
Ultimately, love is not just sharing pleasant smiles and holding hands under sunny skies. It’s also about meeting each other in messy places—fear, anger, regret—and staying connected. Radical honesty strips away the protective coatings so that both partners stand raw and real before each other. There’s risk here, of course. Truth might lead to tears, raised voices, or difficult conversations. But it also leads to trust, because when you know your partner has shown you everything, you can believe in what you have together. Instead of wondering what secrets lie behind their eyes, you see them clearly. This clarity opens the path to deeper love, where two genuine beings intermingle, forging a bond that can weather storms because it’s rooted in truth, not comfortable illusions.
Chapter 8: Embracing Authentic Self-Responsibility to Dissolve the Shackles of Moralism and Stand on Your Own Two Feet.
In a world that moves fast and demands constant attention, stress can overwhelm us. We juggle multiple tasks, opinions flood our screens, and everyone seems to have a judgment on how we should live. Adding moralism to the mix only intensifies the pressure. The moral codes we’ve absorbed force us to measure ourselves against unrealistic standards. Instead of simply experiencing life, we’re busy sorting events into right and wrong, worthy and unworthy. This mental strain wears us down. Radical honesty suggests freeing ourselves by taking personal responsibility. Instead of blaming society, parents, or old rules for our unhappiness, we acknowledge our role in maintaining these lies. We realize that we can choose to drop pretenses and approach life directly, experiencing it without the weight of external frames.
Physical well-being can aid this shift. Practices like yoga, exercise, or mindful breathing help reconnect you with your body. When you listen to how your muscles feel, how your lungs draw breath, and how your posture shifts, you become more aware of the immediate truth of your existence. This body awareness reminds you that your being is not just a mind trapped in judgments—it’s a living, breathing entity capable of sensing the world directly. Taking care of yourself physically is a form of truth-telling. It admits that you matter, that your experience is real and worth nurturing. When you pair this self-care with honest speech and behavior, you align both mind and body in genuine harmony. You stop apologizing for who you are and start living it.
Taking responsibility also means acting before blaming. Consider John Steinbeck’s story of Tom Joad and the one-eyed mechanic. The mechanic complained about how others treated him poorly because of his missing eye. Yet he never cleaned himself up or covered the socket. Tom called him out: before lamenting the cruelty of the world, the mechanic should first do what he can to improve his situation. This is not moral judgment; it’s a reminder that often we don’t even take basic steps to help ourselves. Radical honesty goes hand in hand with acknowledging where you haven’t been honest with yourself. Have you ignored simple truths because they were uncomfortable? Have you refused to express your needs, then blamed others for misunderstanding you? Responsibility means owning these choices.
Within each of us, contradictory voices argue. One voice wants freedom and authenticity, while another clings to tradition and stability. One voice craves honest connections, while another fears the vulnerability that truth demands. By embracing radical honesty, we let these voices speak openly without labeling them good or bad. We accept that feeling conflicted is natural and that acknowledging it honestly is healthier than pretending it doesn’t exist. Once you stop trying to fit your feelings into moral boxes, you can simply say, Here I am, messy and human. That honesty frees you. Instead of chasing approval from frames and rules that never truly fit, you root yourself in direct experience. Now you can walk forward, even through confusion, with a clear mind and steady steps.
Chapter 9: Tearing Down the Walls of Pretense to Step into a World Illuminated by Naked Truths and Real Choices.
If radical honesty begins with embracing uncomfortable truths, it continues with building a life guided by them. The old habits might still whisper: Don’t say that—it’s too embarrassing, or Don’t admit you’re hurt; just smile. But now you know these whispers come from moralism and fear, not from any real necessity. Imagine living in a world where you say what you mean, feel what you feel, and trust that you can handle the results. No more bending reality to fit preconceived rules. No more painting over cracks to maintain appearances. Instead, you stand grounded in actual experience. You accept that people might not always applaud your honesty, but you value authenticity over applause. In this kind of life, each encounter offers a chance to know and be known.
As you practice this approach, you begin to see that truth-telling is not just a moral choice—it’s a pathway to mental and emotional health. When you stop carrying secrets, your shoulders feel lighter. When you share your emotions openly, even the tough ones, you free yourself from the tension of pretending. Over time, this can lead to real transformation. You become more confident and peaceful. Instead of worrying about whether you measure up, you’re busy experiencing life as it is. This directness might not be easy. Old patterns don’t vanish overnight. Yet each honest interaction strengthens your ability to reject deception. With radical honesty, you learn to navigate the world without relying on moral crutches or false identities, and you cultivate genuine human connections.
Without the artificial filters of moralism, you notice details you once overlooked. You hear a friend’s tone more clearly because you’re not busy deciding if they’re right or wrong. You sense your own anger earlier, giving you a chance to express it honestly before it festers. You recognize when you’re craving affection or space, and you communicate that need. Rather than pushing feelings down, you bring them up. Each honest choice creates a ripple of clarity, changing how you see yourself and others. Honesty allows each moment to stand on its own. You no longer need to transform it into something acceptable or pleasing. Instead, you engage with reality directly, and in doing so, you discover that truth, even when uncomfortable, is far less destructive than deception.
This reorientation away from moralism and toward honest living does not provide a neat, perfect world. It doesn’t promise eternal happiness, constant agreement, or smooth relationships free of conflict. What it does offer is a kind of liberation. By dropping the pretense and facing what’s real, you become more resilient. You handle setbacks without crumbling, because you’re used to confronting truth, not running from it. You engage with people as they are, not as how you wish they would be. You accept yourself as a shifting, feeling being, not trapped in any fake identity. In essence, radical honesty gives you permission to be human—to be flawed, passionate, vulnerable, angry, loving, and curious—without dressing up these states in polite lies. You simply describe them, and live fully.
All about the Book
Embrace the power of truth with ‘Radical Honesty’ by Brad Blanton. Discover how radical honesty can transform your relationships, improve mental health, and create a more authentic life in just 40 words.
Brad Blanton is a psychologist and the founder of Radical Honesty Enterprises, focusing on transformative communication and emotional honesty for personal growth and healing.
Psychologists, Life Coaches, HR Professionals, Counselors, Educators
Self-Improvement, Meditation, Philosophy, Public Speaking, Writing
Communication breakdowns, Emotional suppression, Relationship conflicts, Mental health struggles
The unexamined life is not worth living, and the dishonest life can lead to profound unhappiness.
Oprah Winfrey, Tony Robbins, Dr. Deepak Chopra
Best Self-Help Book Award, Readers’ Choice Award, International Book Award
1. How can honesty improve your relationships significantly? #2. What fears hold you back from being honest? #3. How does radical honesty affect mental health positively? #4. Can speaking the truth change your self-perception? #5. What are the consequences of avoiding uncomfortable truths? #6. How can honesty enhance personal and professional success? #7. In what ways does honesty foster authentic connections? #8. What techniques help practice radical honesty daily? #9. Can vulnerability lead to greater emotional freedom? #10. How does societal pressure influence our honesty levels? #11. What are the benefits of expressing feelings openly? #12. How does radical honesty challenge societal norms effectively? #13. Can honesty in business lead to better outcomes? #14. How does truth-telling impact internal dialogue and thoughts? #15. What role does honesty play in personal accountability? #16. How can confronting fears lead to greater honesty? #17. What are the steps to embracing radical honesty? #18. How can honesty serve as a tool for healing? #19. What impact does radical honesty have on self-esteem? #20. How does living honestly align with personal values?
Radical Honesty, Brad Blanton, self-help books, personal development, honesty, communication skills, emotional freedom, truthfulness, interpersonal relationships, mindfulness, authenticity, self-improvement
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1573242640
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