Lately, I feel like I'm walking through life with a void that I can't fill. No matter how much I travel, how many beautiful places I see, how many times I capture that perfect shot with my camera, something inside me is always missing. Every new city, every new sunset brings me momentary joy, but that joy always quickly fades, leaving me with the question: "What am I really searching for?"

When I decided to go to Kyoto, I didn't really have a clear plan. Maybe it was just another destination on my endless list of places I want to visit, but somewhere deep inside, I felt that this trip could bring me something more. I've always been fascinated by Japan, its culture, its people, and its philosophy of life, and Kyoto, the ancient capital, seemed like the perfect place to withdraw from the world and delve deeper into myself.

I expected to find something different in Kyoto, something deeper than what I usually seek on my travels. Kyoto, with its ancient temples, the silence of zen gardens, and endless rows of cherry blossom trees, promised a tranquility rarely found anywhere else. Perhaps it was in those ancient temples and gardens that I needed to find my inner peace, the answer to the question that has been haunting me for a long time – what exactly is missing in my life?
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Kyoto was also an opportunity to step away from everything I know. A break from the hustle and bustle of the West, from the noise, stress, and constant race for something. I was seeking silence, I was seeking time to focus on myself, to feel every moment without distraction. This time, the journey was not just about exploring a new culture and customs but also exploring my inner self. Although I embarked on this journey alone, I was truly in search of myself.

From the moment I stepped into Kyoto, I felt that this city was special. It seemed as if every stone, every flower, every rustle of the wind carried with it a story hundreds of years old. There was something magical in the silence that surrounded me, in the scent of trees and antiquities, in the history woven into every corner of the city.

This journey was more than just an adventure for me. It was a search for something deeper, something that could help me finally find that inner peace that has been eluding me. Kyoto promised to offer me just that, and I was ready to immerse myself in everything this city had to offer, hoping that somewhere among its ancient temples and cherry blossoms, I would find what I've been searching for for a long time.

Arrival in Kyoto: First Impressions of the Ancient City

As I flew over Japan, watching the green landscape below, I felt an excitement that grew with every minute approaching Kyoto. It was a moment when all my previous experiences, all the places I had visited, began to fade in comparison to what I expected from this ancient city. I could already imagine the narrow streets, the old wooden temple doors, the cherry blossoms covering the paths like a gentle pink wave. But reality greeted me with something much deeper and stronger.

After landing, I felt a mixture of anxiety and excitement engulfing me. Anxiety because I was on the road again, alone, in search of something I can't even define myself, and excitement because I knew Kyoto was a place where history and the present coexist in a way that exists nowhere else in the world. A city where every stone, every street tells a story that spans centuries.

My first steps in Kyoto felt like stepping into another time. Everything was calm, quiet, almost eerie in its silence. There was no noise of big cities, no hurried steps, and loud conversations. Instead, there was silence, interrupted only by the occasional chirping of birds or the rustling of the wind through the trees. I felt the stress I had brought with me from the Western world slowly melting away, replaced by a sense of peace that enveloped me like a warm cloak.

Walking through the streets, I felt my heart slow down, my breathing becoming deeper, my mind, always so torn between the past and the future, beginning to focus on the present moment. The smell of wood, old and shaped by the hands of masters centuries ago, filled the air. I felt a deep connection to this place, as if all those smells and sounds were calling me to come home, even though Kyoto had never been my home before.

The city immediately enchanted me with its architecture. Old houses with dark wooden roofs, windows covered with thin paper, each building telling its own story. I felt the need to pause in front of each one, to admire the details, the perfection of every corner and edge. It was clear that Kyoto is a city that respects its history, a city that lives in harmony with its roots.

But it wasn't just the architecture that fascinated me. Kyoto lived and breathed through its people. Every person I met radiated calmness and kindness that I rarely see. It was as if everyone in this city moved with intention; every movement, every smile was thoughtful and full of respect for others. At that moment, I realized that it was not just the physical beauty of the city that attracted me, but also its spiritual depth, the one that emanates from the everyday life of its inhabitants.

Kiyomizu-michi Street, leading to the famous Kiyomizu-dera Temple, was one of the first places I visited. Walking down that street, I felt the past and the present intertwining with every step. Tourists with cameras mingled with locals in traditional kimonos, vendors offered authentic Japanese sweets, and older couples slowly walked hand in hand. I soon felt myself getting lost in that atmosphere, my thoughts scattering, and I became part of that world, at least for a moment.

Kyoto was like a frozen moment in time, a city that refused to submit to modern trends, retaining its authenticity and soul. Here, the presence of ancestors was felt, their wisdom and simplicity of life. Although I had just arrived, I knew that this journey would be different, that it would bring me not only external impressions but also internal changes.

At that moment, as I looked at the old wooden bridge spanning the Kamo River, I realized that I had found a place where I could slow down, where I could dive into the silence and listen to what my heart was telling me. The city welcomed me with open arms, offering me everything I was looking for – peace, beauty, and perhaps, just perhaps, the answers to the questions that have been haunting me for a long time.

Cherry Blossoms in Full Bloom: The Beauty of Spring in Kyoto

With the arrival of spring, Kyoto transforms into a true wonder of nature. The arrival of sakura, the pink cherry blossoms, is something I had heard and seen in pictures, but nothing could prepare me for the real experience when I found myself surrounded by that immense wave of beauty. The first moments when I saw the blooming sakura left me breathless. It was as if the whole world stopped in that magic of nature, and I became just an observer of that unspeakable beauty that surrounded me from all sides.

Walking through the streets of Kyoto, sakura was everywhere, delicate pink blossoms falling like soft snow onto the streets, tree canopies spreading above me, creating a natural canopy under which I felt protected from the outside world. Every breeze carried petals that fluttered in the air, creating a sense that I was in a fairy tale, in a world where colors are more vivid, scents more intoxicating, and every moment filled with some hidden magic.

There is something incredible in that fleeting beauty of sakura, in its brief but intense blooming that lasts only a few weeks. In that short period, Kyoto becomes like a living canvas, covered in pink and white tones, every corner of the city reflecting that transience of beauty, reminding us of the transience of life, but at the same time emphasizing the importance of enjoying the present moment. These thoughts were constantly present as I walked, feeling how each new cherry blossom canopy drew me deeper into that special world.
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One of the places that particularly enchanted me was the Philosopher's Path, a long walkway along a canal, surrounded by cherry trees. I walked this path early in the morning when the sun was just starting to break through the canopies, creating a play of light and shadow. That moment was perfect – the silence interrupted only by the gentle rustling of leaves and the occasional chirping of birds, the scent of fresh air filled with cherry blossoms, and the feeling that I was the only person in the world who existed at that moment. Every petal that fell into the water carried with it a moment of transience, and I felt like a part of that cycle, realizing how important it is to capture those fleeting moments of happiness.

As I walked these paths, I met locals who enjoyed the beauty of the cherry blossoms in a way that was incredibly inspiring to me. I saw older couples walking hand in hand, enjoying every moment, young families laughing and talking while sitting under the trees, even students who, despite their daily obligations, stopped to admire that beauty. That sense of togetherness, of love for nature, is something that deeply imprinted itself on my heart and gave me a new perspective on life.

Sakura is a symbol of transience but also of rebirth, the beginning of a new cycle. As I stood under those magnificent canopies, I felt something changing within me. It was as if that brief but intense moment of beauty was exactly what I needed to release some of my inner burdens, to accept the transience of life and the beauty of moments that cannot be repeated. I was aware of how precious every moment is, how important it is to stop and just be present, completely immersed in the beauty that surrounds us.

Kyoto during sakura season is not just a visual experience; it is an experience that engages all the senses. The sound of the wind passing through the canopies, the scent of blossoms, the feeling of petals falling on the skin – all of this created a sense of complete harmony with nature, a feeling that I was part of something much greater, something that transcends everyday worries and stresses.

The feeling of sadness over the transience of that beauty was inevitable, but at the same time, it brought a sense of gratitude. Gratitude for the opportunity to be here, now, to witness something so beautiful. As I stood under that river of pink blossoms, I realized that true peace is not found in seeking something permanent but in accepting change and enjoying every moment life brings.

Kyoto during sakura season gave me a new perspective, reminded me of the beauty of the moment, of the importance of stopping and enjoying what is here, now. That feeling of tranquility and joy, mixed with a slight sadness over the transience, was what I needed to find my inner peace, even if just for a moment. In those moments, as I walked through a sea of blossoms, I felt completely connected to this city, to nature, and, ultimately, to myself.

Exploring Ancient Temples: The Blend of Spirituality and Architecture

Photo by: Domagoj Skledar/ arhiva (vlastita)

The temples of Kyoto are not just buildings; they are living witnesses of time, places where spirituality and architecture merge in a harmony that transcends centuries. The first temple I visited was Fushimi Inari-taisha, known for its thousands of red torii gates that stretch through wooded paths, creating an almost endless tunnel that leads to the top of Mount Inari. As soon as I entered this shrine, I felt a sense of calmness washing over me, as if the world outside those gates slowly receded, leaving only silence and nature.

Walking through the torii, with the gentle sound of footsteps on the gravel path, I felt how each step turned into meditation. Every red gate symbolized a transition, not only in the physical sense but also in the spiritual. I felt how each passage through the gates brought a new beginning, a new opportunity for reflection and contemplation. The light that filtered through the dense tree canopies created a play of shadows and light, emphasizing the mystique of the place. Fushimi Inari-taisha was not just a temple but a journey through space and time, a place where one could completely lose oneself in thoughts, but also find oneself.

As I ascended toward the top, I encountered small shrines and fox statues dedicated to Inari, the Shinto god of rice. Each fox carried keys to the granary, symbolizing protection and abundance. These statues stood still, almost watchful, guarding the ancient secrets of the temples, and I felt a deep respect for these symbols of the past. The journey to the top was long and arduous, but every step was worth the effort. When I finally reached the top, the view of Kyoto, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, was a reward that exceeded all expectations.

After Fushimi Inari-taisha, I headed toward Kiyomizu-dera, one of the most famous Buddhist temples in Japan. Its name literally means "Temple of Pure Water," and the name comes from the Otowa waterfalls that flow through the temple grounds. Approaching the temple, I felt a sense of awe washing over me at this magnificent structure, built without the use of a single nail. Kiyomizu-dera proudly rises on wooden pillars above the slope, creating the impression that it floats above the city.

Walking on the wooden terrace of the temple, I felt like I was part of something much larger than myself. The view of the city, framed by tree canopies and the gentle sound of water in the distance, was almost surreal. Every detail of the temple, from intricate wooden carvings to the bell that resonated in the distance, told a story of dedication, faith, and love for nature. I was enchanted by the way the temple's architecture was integrated with the natural surroundings, as if the temple and nature were created together in perfect harmony.

A particularly memorable experience was drinking water from the Otowa waterfalls, which is believed to bring health, longevity, and success in love. Standing in line, surrounded by locals and tourists from around the world, I felt how this simple act became a symbol of unity and universal human aspirations. When I finally took the metal cup and scooped the cold, crystal-clear water, I felt connected to something deeper, something that transcends cultural and linguistic barriers.

After leaving Kiyomizu-dera, I continued walking toward less-known temples, such as Nanzen-ji and Eikan-do, where the silence was almost palpable, and the air was filled with the scent of pine and freshness. These temples were not crowded, but precisely because of that, they were perfect for meditation and introspection. Each temple carried its own story, its own energy, and I felt how the silence of these places nestled within me, bringing peace and clarity of thought.

Through the exploration of these ancient temples, I felt a new kind of respect growing within me for the past, for the people who built these temples with such care and love. I was aware of how important these places are to Japanese culture, but also how universal their message is – they call for inner peace, for finding balance between body and spirit. Kyoto, with its temples, became for me a place where I could slow down, where I could feel a deep connection with the past, but also with myself.

Tea Ceremony: A Ritual that Bridges the Past and Present

After exploring the temples, I felt the need for a deeper dive into the essence of Japanese culture, into the aspect that is invisible but omnipresent, ingrained in everyday life with such care and dedication. I have always been fascinated by tea ceremonies, a ritual that turns a seemingly simple act into art, meditation, and even philosophy. The opportunity to participate in a traditional tea ceremony in Kyoto seemed like the perfect way to truly feel the spirit of Japan, the fusion of past and present in one simple but deeply thoughtful act.
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When I stepped into the small tea house hidden in a garden full of trees and flowers, I immediately felt a sense of calmness washing over me. Everything was quiet, every object in its place, every detail carefully considered. The tea house was not large, but it radiated warmth and harmony. It was as if I had entered another world, separate from the hustle and bustle of modern life, a world where time flows slower, where every moment is filled with awareness and attention.

The tea master, dressed in a beautiful kimono, welcomed me with a gentle smile and a bow. Her movements were so graceful, almost as if she were dancing, and every move was consciously performed, without haste, with complete concentration on the present moment. It was clear that behind every movement, every gesture, stood years of practice, but also deep respect for what she was doing.

The ceremony began with the cleaning of the utensils. As the tea master carefully wiped the bowl and spoon, I felt myself slowly relaxing, every muscle releasing tension. There was something incredibly soothing in that simple act, in the silence that accompanied it, in the attention given to every detail. I felt how my mind was slowly emptying, how all worries and thoughts were fading away, leaving only the present moment.

Preparing the tea was an act of deep meditation. Every movement was precise, every action had its place and time. As the master poured water into the bowl, carefully mixing the green tea powder with a bamboo whisk, I felt a sense of quiet joy washing over me. It was as if I were watching an artist at work, a person completely immersed in what they were doing, without any distractions, without thinking about the past or the future. At that moment, I realized the true essence of the tea ceremony – it is not just the preparation of tea but a way of life, a way to live in harmony with nature, with the moment, with other people.

When the tea master finally offered me the bowl of tea, I took it with deep respect. I carefully lifted the bowl to my lips, feeling the warmth emanating from it, the scent of fresh green tea filling my senses. The first sip was a moment of complete enjoyment, a moment in which all my senses focused on that single taste. It was simplicity in the best possible sense – the tea was not sweet, it was not bitter, it was perfect in its naturalness, in its purity.

As I sipped the tea, the master quietly told me about the philosophy behind the ceremony. She spoke of wabi-sabi, the Japanese concept of beauty in imperfection, in transience, in simplicity. She explained to me how the tea ceremony is not just the act of preparing and consuming tea but a way to connect with nature, with the people around us, and ultimately, with ourselves. I realized how important it is to slow down, to stop for a moment, and appreciate what is now, here, in front of us.

Through this ceremony, I felt how the past and present merge into one. A tradition that is hundreds of years old still lives on, not just as a ritual but as part of everyday life, as a way for people to connect, to find peace and harmony in a world that is often too hectic and chaotic. I felt a deep respect for that way of life, for the attention given to every moment, every detail, for the beauty found in simplicity and naturalness.

As I left the tea house, I felt renewed, filled with a quiet joy and peace. I realized how little is needed for happiness, how important it is to find peace in everyday things, in simple acts that, if we pay attention to them, can become art, meditation, a way of life. That tea ceremony was more than just an experience for me – it was a lesson about life, about how to find beauty in every moment, in every imperfection, in every fleeting moment.

A Walk Through History: Gion and Geishas

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Gion, the historic district in the heart of Kyoto, is a place where time seems to stand still. As I walked through the narrow streets, I felt as if I had stepped into the past, into a time when geishas were an integral part of Japanese culture. Every stone, every house, every sound carried with it a story, a memory of times when Gion was the epicenter of cultural life. I felt my heart beating slower as if adjusting to the rhythm of this ancient place.

The streets of Gion are covered with old stone slabs that have been walked on by geishas, samurais, and merchants for centuries. These slabs, worn down by centuries of walking, tell stories of a time when Kyoto was the capital of Japan and Gion its cultural center. As I walked these streets, I felt the presence of those past lives, I felt how their stories were close to me, even though I had never met them. It was as if the ghosts of the past were still here, walking with me, guiding me through their memories.

Geishas have always been a fascinating subject for me. Their role in society, their elegance, the art, and discipline they embody – all of this represented for me some kind of unattainable ideal. But when I saw them in person for the first time, I felt something more than just admiration. I felt respect for that tradition, for that deep dedication that these women put into their art. The geishas I met were like living statues, embodying beauty and grace, but behind that outer perfection, I also felt the weight of their role, their obligation to preserve the past.

As I walked, I stopped at one of the traditional wooden houses that were softly illuminated. At the door, I saw a geisha gently stepping out, walking slowly, almost silently, while her white collar and delicate kimono reflected the light of the lanterns. I watched her movements, every step was precise, thoughtful, as if every moment was part of her performance. I felt a quiet joy, but also sadness – joy for the beauty of the moment, sadness for the transience of everything.

Geishas, as I learned, are much more than I could have imagined. They are guardians of culture, art, and tradition. Their life is not easy – it is filled with practice, learning, and discipline that lasts a lifetime. But what touched me the most was their dedication to the moment, their ability to turn everyday things into art. At the moment when I met them, I felt that I was not just looking at women who nurture an old tradition but at people who have found meaning in what they do, people who have found their peace in the beauty of fleeting moments.

I continued to walk through the streets of Gion, admiring the old wooden houses, the windows covered with thin paper, the lanterns that illuminated the path. Every house was a witness to time, and I felt as if I was part of that history, as if I had stepped into a world that no longer exists but still lives through its stories, through its symbols.
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One of the most striking moments was when I came across a traditional house where geishas gathered. The space was filled with the scent of incense and the sounds of traditional music. As I stood in front of the entrance, I heard the gentle sound of the shamisen, an instrument whose tones carried stories of love, sadness, joy, and loss. It was as if I was witnessing something that was not meant for my eyes and ears, but I was still there, part of that world for a moment.

Gion is a place that brought me back to the past but at the same time showed me how the past can live in the present. I felt connected to this place in a way I didn't expect. As I moved through those streets, I felt how I myself was changing, how that history, that tradition was shaping me, giving me a new perspective on the world, on beauty, on the transience of life. Geishas, with their silence, their graceful movements, became for me a symbol not only of the past but also of the present, a symbol of eternal beauty that does not disappear but changes, adapts, and continues to live in the hearts of those who appreciate it.

As the lantern lights dimmed and the streets of Gion became quieter, I felt a sense of gratitude wash over me – gratitude for having the opportunity to step into this world, gratitude for being able to feel the spirit of the past that still lives in the present. Gion taught me that history is not just a story that is told but something that can be felt, experienced, something that shapes every step we take in the present.

Kyoto at Night: The Magic of Illuminated Streets

Photo by: Domagoj Skledar/ arhiva (vlastita)

With the arrival of night, Kyoto transforms into a world of mystical glow and quiet beauty. The city that exuded historical charm during the day becomes at night a stage for serenity and reflection, a place where the soul can rest from daily worries. As I walked through the streets, I felt how everything around me was changing – the light that broke through the darkness created a special atmosphere, and the silence that enveloped the city brought a sense of peace that I had been searching for.

My first evening walks began in the Higashiyama district, where old streets meander between traditional wooden houses and small shops. Lanterns, gently lit, created a soft, warm light that reflected off the stone slabs beneath my feet. I felt my steps becoming lighter, as if that light was carrying me, leading me deeper into the heart of Kyoto. The streets were almost empty, only a few passersby, and that emptiness was like a cleansing – free from noise and crowds, I could focus only on myself, my thoughts, and feelings.

As I approached the Yasaka Shrine, I was greeted by a magnificent sight of the shrine illuminated at night. The lights highlighted its structure, emphasizing every detail, every line, and shape. I was mesmerized by that beauty – it was as if the shrine had turned into something supernatural, mystical, a place where the boundaries between reality and dreams become blurred. I stood in front of the shrine, feeling my heart pulsing in rhythm with the silence around me. The light reflecting off the shrine created the impression that the entire building was floating above the ground, and I felt like part of that magic, part of something greater, something deeper.

I continued my walk toward the Kamo River, where the city lights reflected on the calm water, creating a play of shadows and light. As I walked along the river, I felt a sense of inner peace washing over me. The water, quiet and serene, was like a mirror of the soul – every thought, every feeling, reflected in those reflections, reminding me of the beauty of simplicity, of the importance of moments that we often overlook in the hustle of everyday life. I was aware of every step, every breath, and I felt how the boundaries between me and the world around me were slowly dissolving.

A special moment I experienced in Gion, where the streets were illuminated by lanterns, and the silence of the night seemed almost tangible. In that moment, everything I had experienced so far, all thoughts and feelings, merged into one – a feeling of deep gratitude. Gratitude for being here, now, in this moment, for having the opportunity to experience the beauty of Kyoto in a way that is not available to everyone. I felt my heart filling with warmth, every cell of my body vibrating in harmony with that moment, with that place.

Kyoto at night is not just a city – it is a world of its own, a world where history and the present meet in silence, where light and darkness dance their eternal dance, where the soul can get lost and find itself again. Walking those streets, I felt myself slowly filling with peace, how every step brought a new discovery, a new beauty. Kyoto at night brings a silence that is not empty but filled with meaning, it brings a light that does not blind but reveals hidden corners of the soul.

When I finally headed back to my accommodation, I felt as if I had spent an eternity in that night world, yet time had passed in the blink of an eye. I felt a deep connection with this city, with its silence, its beauty, and I knew that I would carry those moments with me forever. Kyoto at night is not just a place but a state of mind, a feeling that stays with you, that changes you, enriches you, and fills you.

Reflection and Return: What I Learned About Myself in Kyoto

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Kyoto was not just a place I visited; it was a journey into myself, discovering hidden parts of my soul that I had been searching for for years but never managed to find. From the moment I stepped into this ancient city, I felt something pulling me deeper, something calling me to slow down, to stop and observe not only the beauty around me but also the inner world I had often neglected. It was a journey through history, culture, and tradition, but also a journey through my own thoughts, feelings, and insecurities.

Every moment spent in Kyoto was an opportunity for reflection. As I walked through streets filled with the scent of cherry blossoms, I felt how every step carried with it a memory of the past but also a promise for the future. In moments when I admired the magnificent temples, I felt how a sense of connection with something greater, with something that transcends everyday worries and anxieties, washed over me. It was as if those temples, those ancient walls, were witnesses not only to the history of this city but also to my inner struggles, my fears, and hopes.

As I participated in the tea ceremony, I realized how important it is to be present in the moment, how essential it is to pay attention to the simple things we often take for granted. That ceremony was not just a ritual but a lesson about life – about how beauty lies in simplicity, how peace can be found in everyday actions if we dedicate ourselves to them with care and love. In those moments, as I sipped tea and watched the precise movements of the tea master, I felt a new awareness awakening within me, a new appreciation for the small things that make life so valuable.

Gion, with its narrow streets and silence that echoed through the night, was a place where I felt a deep connection with the past. Watching the geishas, those incredibly graceful women who embody all that is subtle and elegant, I felt a sense of respect but also sadness. Sadness for the transience of everything, for the time that flows inexorably, but also joy because I had the opportunity to feel that history, that tradition that lives through them. I felt how my perception of time was changing, how the past was no longer something that is behind us but something that is always present, something that shapes every moment of our present.

Walks through the illuminated streets of Kyoto at night were moments when I felt the deepest peace. The light of the lanterns, the reflections on the water, the silence that permeated the air – all of this was like balm for my soul. It was a time when I could be completely alone with my thoughts when I could allow myself to surrender to the feelings I had long suppressed. In that night silence, in that magical world of light and shadows, I felt a new strength being born within me, a new ability to accept myself with all my flaws and virtues, to embrace life with all its ups and downs.

Kyoto taught me that beauty is not in perfection but in imperfection, in transience, in moments that come and go like cherry blossoms. It taught me that it doesn't matter how far we travel, how much we see and experience, but how we relate to those experiences, how we carry them with us, and how we use them to become better, to find our inner peace. I felt how this city shaped me, how its scents, sounds, and sights changed me in ways I couldn't fully understand at the time, but which I now feel in every thought, in every step I take.

As I left Kyoto, I felt like I was leaving a part of myself in that city, but also as if I was carrying a part of it with me. It was as if my thoughts, feelings, and experiences had merged with that place, creating an unbreakable bond that would always remind me of what I had learned here. Kyoto became more than just a destination – it became a symbol of my journey through life, through my own soul, through everything that makes me who I am. And as I return home, I feel how that city, with all its beauties and silences, follows me, reminding me of the lessons I must never forget.

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