Just Save Me From The Fictional Crying Woman

I’ve had it up to here with crying women. I’m surrounded by them. I can’t get away from them. They’re everywhere.

Just Save Me From The Fictional Crying Woman

Thank You, Bob Marley

Having said that, I rarely meet a crying woman in the flesh. I can walk down the street quite peaceably, and not see even one woman in tears. I go shopping for broccoli, and never see any crying female over the age of 3. Even in times of trial, I have never seen a girl sobbing uncontrollably on her knees on the tarmac in the rain. I can go to sporting events, hospitals, and even funerals, without seeing a single solitary crying woman.

You know where I can’t escape crying women, though? On TV. In the movies. And in books.

You can’t draw breath in the fictional universe without running headlong into the Cry Lady. A woman who is pouring tears down her lovely face, unable to bear the catastrophic weight of existing.

She cries over the dead and living. She precipitates her sadness both in fear, and in safety. She bawls with happiness. She sobs with loneliness. She wails with anger, frustration, and self-righteousness. In the fictional universe – and in particular, when it comes to crime, action, adventure, or spy thrillers – there is only one default expression of emotion, as far as women are concerned: they cry.

Just Save Me From The Fictional Crying Woman

Some of the most wonderful action programmes I’ve watched on TV have been ruined because of actresses with bladders too close to their eyes. For example, Marvel’s Daredevil on Netflix sucked me in with Dysonic power, until I realised that the main female principal, Karen Page (Deborah Ann Woll), was unable to appear on screen for three minutes together without snivelling.

Clare Danes’ cry face had long been documented and discussed before someone decided that Carrie Mathison’s default reaction to all action in Homeland was the bizarre combination of terror in her eyes, tears pouring down her cheeks, and her mouth screwed up as though she’s just taken a bite out of a whole onion.

The other side of the coin, of course, is the non-crying woman. Because there are only two types of women in fiction: those who cry, and those who don’t. The non-criers are the tough nuts. They are as defined by their not crying as their wet-eyed counterparts are by their femininity.

It’s like a switch, you see: you either cry, and are therefore a fragile, lovely woman who needs minding; or you don’t cry, and are therefore a hardass heroine who is almost certainly going to take a bullet before the end of the story arc, because you were out there doing a man’s job.

Just Save Me From The Fictional Crying Woman

Is this a girl panda? Probably

There is no in between. Presumably because it would require far too much thought. It’s so much harder to portray the emotional depths of a woman who is struggling with a situation, or her inner demons, if you can’t play the crying card.

She must show that things are really hard right now! (Cry.)

Now everything has changed for the better and she has been saved! (Cry.)

See? Easy. All over. Never mind that crying has been diluted to homeopathic efficacy. Never mind that the Cry Lady has become as emotive as a cheese sandwich. Just get on to the next scene. Otherwise, you’d have to put in two paragraphs of expository dialogue or inner consciousness, and there’s no time for that when there’s baddies to fight.

Why is this? Why can we have emotionally complex anti-heroes such as Ironman and Don Draper and Frank Underwood, without a tear being shed? Why is there time to flesh out male characters with flaws and strengths and enigmatic behaviour, while the women have to cry, cry, cry?

Just Save Me From The Fictional Crying Woman

Schrodinger’s Cryer. Maybe she is. Maybe she isn’t. Don’t look

The women I know in real life are as diverse in their behaviour as they are in their thinking. They represent an infinite variety of happiness, sadness, humour, anger, optimism, pessimism, and stoicism. I have only ever seen about 10% of them cry. And even those criers are generally people I know intimately for a long number of years.

So where are all the criers coming from? Perhaps my American friends can tell me if they are drowning in sobbing women on their side of the Atlantic, because the ocean isn’t rising over here on the back of Irish tears (no matter what the songs say).

But then again, I’ve never had to save an entire city from the forces of evil. Maybe if I had, I’d have something to cry about.

And I’m not saying it’s the fault of the actresses (although I admit – I do blame Clare Danes just a little bit). It just seems to be because they’re written that way. It’s tempting to think that it’s because this is the way they’re written by men. After all, Melissa Rosenberg wrote Jessica Jones, and none of her female principals spend their time walking around in floods of tears: they have better things to do. Baddies to fight. Inner demons to quell.

We need to stop writing about women crying all the time. We need to write about women who have emotions which don’t consistently pour out of their eyes. We need to demand more women who do other things, than cry.

And look: I’m a woman. One who likes heroes. But I don’t need to be saved from the forces of evil. Just save me from the ubiquitous fictional crying woman, and I’ll be fine.

  81 comments for “Just Save Me From The Fictional Crying Woman

  1. April 1, 2016 at 7:57 am

    Um I now needs a quick whizz through my wip because last night I had sobbing and tears and that was over a cheesecake.

    Liked by 3 people

    • April 1, 2016 at 11:11 am

      I can’t believe you cried over cheesecake, Geoff. That’s so typical of a man. I myself would never cry over anything less tragic than a broken nail. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I dropped my tissues.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. April 1, 2016 at 8:33 am

    Applauds. Clare Danes is compelling viewing but if I were near her I’d be tempted to give her a slap; or at least tickle her with a feather encrusted kipper.

    Speaking of unfairly slagging off women with a mental health diagnosis, why do the complex women characters have to have one, or have the other male characters undertake the role of Dr. Google for the dumb viewers? What might be construed as coming in at above average on the Austism Spectrum might be perfectly reasonable behaviour to the rest of us. The makers of Quincy didn’t feel obliged to point out when was experiencing a borderline manic episode; Taggart was clearly a psychopath, and Colombo never got his knuckles wrapped for the compulsive lying (Mrs Colombo? Yeah, right). It’s all very well of the show-makers for doing their bit to dispel myths around mental illness but until it applies to male characters, I’ll just have to.. I’ll just have to… I’ll just have to storm off from my last sentence on the matter.

    Liked by 1 person

    • April 1, 2016 at 11:14 am

      I’ve been thinking about this, Tenderlation, and I’m wondering if it’s just another by-product of mansplaining. Are all male-written female characters just being subjected to it? With a wry twist of the mouth, or a fixed stare into middle distance, a male character can be considering the meaning of life, but if a woman doesn’t have a mental health issue, she must be thinking about shopping, right?

      Liked by 1 person

      • April 1, 2016 at 12:07 pm

        Undoubtedly. Sausages specfically. No Woman No Fry, as one former boyfriend used to sing.

        I say let all the wimmin be as expressive and crazy as they want, so long as they don’t have to apologise for it; be told gently to “take a few days off”, or endure a close-up of their medicine cabinet.

        Liked by 1 person

  3. April 1, 2016 at 8:46 am

    Encore. That binary thing and “no in between” is spot on.

    All the same, I didn’t mind all the tears in Six Feet Under (by female and male characters alike). That was good proper Sobsville.

    Liked by 3 people

    • April 1, 2016 at 11:16 am

      You’re right, Mel. When it works, it works. And a proper cryfest on screen can be a cleansing thing. Unfortunately, it’s not working, at least 90% of the time.


  4. janelovering
    April 1, 2016 at 9:12 am

    Absolutely. I think it’s ‘lazy fiction writer’s’ way of showing that ‘this woman is a frail thing who needs rescuing, By a man, preferably, but chocolate will do.’ When I cry I do not look like a frail lovely thing, I leave trails of snot everywhere and my face looks like I’ve been hit by a bus. I am in envy of anyone who can cry simple trails of tears without getting phlegm in her eyebrows, so, in my books, it’s usually the men who cry.
    And no, they don’t have snot either.

    Liked by 3 people

    • April 1, 2016 at 11:19 am

      Or is it the lazy fiction writer’s way of making a woman react to any given situation? It’s more prevalent in action movies and comic adaptations than anything else, so I’m inclined to think it’s just women written by men who don’t understand women, or perhaps even know more than 5 of them.

      I’m with you on the snot. I am an ugly crier. It is not something I do in front of people at all if I can help it.


    • April 2, 2016 at 1:01 pm

      Lol, ‘phlegm in her eyebrows’ gross image but love it. I also have men crying in my books – but I’ve left out the trails of snot. Maybe I need to be more realistic.

      Liked by 1 person

  5. DD
    April 1, 2016 at 9:35 am

    Sniff…..sniff…sniff……. you get me every time Tara……

    Liked by 1 person

    • April 1, 2016 at 11:20 am

      Tissue, DD? I have plenty, and I’m lakeside, I could be there in a jiffy.


  6. April 1, 2016 at 9:46 am

    Your words will come back to haunt you. When climate change causes draughts in the polar regions you’ll be glad of these cry babies watering our crops. (My advice: don’t watch a Bollywood film directed by Karan Johar, you’ll be a dehydrated mess after thirty minutes.)

    I like articles like this one because they reaffirm what an absolute top writer I am. I cry more often than my characters, which can be quite embarrassing when you’re writing in a busy cafe. But my characters – and I love them all, truly I do – aren’t stone faced automatons either. Brilliant. Can I have an award please?

    Liked by 1 person

    • April 1, 2016 at 11:30 am

      You can most certainly have an award, Chris. Your prize is the Sparling Perpetual Trophy For Hysterics, and a year’s supply of Mills & Boons. Congratulations!!

      Liked by 1 person

    • April 1, 2016 at 3:00 pm

      I have to second the advice about the Karan Johar movies.

      Liked by 2 people

      • April 1, 2016 at 3:12 pm

        To YouTube or not to YouTube… oh, go on then. I’ll have a whiskey and think about it.


  7. April 1, 2016 at 9:47 am

    Having shed plenty of tears in my life, I feel no reason to revisit them in my writing. After all, none of my characters are as f**ed up as I am. I wouldn’t do that to my readers.

    Liked by 1 person

    • April 1, 2016 at 11:31 am

      And I’ll bet they don’t even thank you for it, the ingrates. Although, you know that deranged characters are all the rage right now. Don’t reason yourself out of a coup.


  8. Sue Bridgwater
    April 1, 2016 at 10:13 am

    There are a few more crying men t be seen on TV these days – but not enough to redress the balance.

    Liked by 1 person

    • April 1, 2016 at 11:33 am

      It’s less crying I want, not more, Sue. I’d be happier if nobody was crying at all and going about their business like people who weren’t addicted to victimhood. One tear per series, that’s my limit. Anything else is giving me a pain in the brain from all the the eye-rolling.

      Liked by 1 person

      • Sue Bridgwater
        April 1, 2016 at 11:53 am

        Excellent point, because what all this weeping in the rain on the tarmac is doing is making the human race look as if it can never hope to cope with life at all, hopelessness is just around the corner. Crying in drama should be in proportion with what happens in real life.

        Liked by 1 person

  9. April 1, 2016 at 11:26 am

    I’m writing a novel about a teenage suicide. Everybody effing cries, every man woman and toenail, approximately every seven pages or so. Deal with it.

    Liked by 1 person

    • April 1, 2016 at 11:40 am

      I might. Or I might become so distracted by a crying toenail that it takes my mind off all the other tearfulness and everything works out fine in the end. I suppose it really is all about balance…


  10. April 1, 2016 at 12:24 pm

    I don’t mind the crying–I’m an absolute weeper, and will tear up reading a Hallmark card. I mind all the pregnancies: can a woman exist in the fictional world without getting pregnant? Is there really nothing more that you can think of your female character to do except get knocked up? Now there’s some lazy (and sexist) writing.

    I’m with you on Clare Danes and the crying (and the pregnancy thing, too!) but I offer as counterpoint, Keri Russell in The Americans, who I am sure has cried over the four seasons of that show, but also has shown the full range of human emotion and continues to create the most complex, intriguing female character in the history of television, IMO.

    Liked by 1 person

    • April 1, 2016 at 1:09 pm

      I tried to watch The Americans. I gave it 3 or 4 episodes, but it beat me. I think there was too much of the America The Beautiful stuff for me, without the bombastic action balance. I’m not their target market though, I’d say, so it’s not their fault. Just give me a Kristen Rytter in Jessica Jones any day, and you’ll have me in convulsions. She made me cry without shedding a single tear, and to me, that is true genius, spectacular television.

      I never noticed the pregnancy thing. Although in some cases, it’s had to be written in because the actress herself is pregnant, which I think is kind of cool.


      • April 1, 2016 at 1:32 pm

        I’m surprised that’s your reaction to The Americans, as the American characters in the show are largely incompetent bunglers and Russell and her co-star, Mathew Rhys, are cooly effective (and startingly sympathetic!) Soviet-era Russian killers.

        I really enjoyed Jessica Jones, and Kristen Ritter’s performance, but don’t see the emotional depth in that character that you see. Jessica Jones is a pretty stock comic book figure, the Female Badass, IMO.

        Ritter is perfectly cast, though–and she was terrific in Don’t Trust the B—, which is a very funny television comedy, that unfortunately got cancelled (or perhaps fortunately, because it freed Ritter to do Jessica Jones).

        Liked by 1 person

        • April 1, 2016 at 2:27 pm

          I don’t know what it was about The Americans, but as I said, I don’t think I was their target market. It just came across to me as some kind of macro strawman argument – that by setting things up in opposition, it felt like something else was being rammed down my throat. It probably got better after I bailed.

          What I loved most about Jessica Jones was that she wasn’t stock at all. It turned the whole trope of female victimhood on its head. She was a victim, but refused to be. She was dark, but bloody funny. She was broken, but I was dying to go for a pint with her. She and her best mate said more to me in silence and with a dry eye than any overwritten, over-directed girly girl.


  11. April 1, 2016 at 12:25 pm

    “…only one default expression of emotion, as far as women are concerned: they cry.”

    Not true. They also scream. See a body? Scream. See a villain? Scream. See your boyfriend? Scream. See your girlfriends? Scream. Or squeal with ear-splitting mirth – which sounds pretty much the same.

    I’ll leave you with this little gem of a video:

    Liked by 2 people

  12. April 1, 2016 at 1:06 pm

    Whiskey. That’s how we male characters deal with emotional issues on celluloid (showing my age there). There is nothing a good six measures in a huge glass won’t fix. Be it a death in the family, getting fired from the drug squad because fellow officers found a “key” of coke in the trunk of your auto (did I mention I am in North America for a few days) or even a deep problem about which you need to sit an think.
    I have tried this in real life and I get a very red head, palpitations and an inability to think about anything except sleep.

    Liked by 1 person

    • April 1, 2016 at 2:33 pm

      Why didn’t I think of that, Conor? Come to think of it, my favourite kickass women are all whiskey drinkers. They’d want to be careful not to turn into another stereotype. You should help us out on that, by making an anti-stereotype meat and whiskey dish specifically for women. Have it on my desk by Tuesday. (Oooh! How bolshy! How’s that for subverting a cliché, eh?!)

      Liked by 1 person

      • April 1, 2016 at 11:12 pm

        Thumps desk, spilling a quarter of the whiskey in the large tumbler.


  13. April 1, 2016 at 1:14 pm

    Am ALWAYS commenting on this in the critique part of the Crafting a Novel class I teach at Sheridan college. And yes, Tara – it is usually the fiction written by the men (at least in my class.) Other thing that DRIVES ME CRAZY (sorry for the caps, but you can’t hear me scream from Canada) is “She screwed up her mouth in a pout” and “She stuck out her tongue at me.” No more pouting and sticking out tongues! Are we still in grade school? I don’t know a single female over 20 who pouts and sticks out her tongue. I wouldn’t want to know her.

    Liked by 1 person

    • April 1, 2016 at 2:35 pm

      I completely understand the screaming, Melodie. Which is something I do rather than sticking out my tongue. I suppose the main question is, when you comment on this in your class, does anybody ever listen? Or do your students sit back and think – “Bless her. When she gets to know women like I know women, she’ll understand.” ??


  14. April 1, 2016 at 2:08 pm

    The town CRYER does he count? Just asking.

    Liked by 1 person

    • April 1, 2016 at 2:36 pm

      He does if he’s a woman, C.J. Usually because she’s just shouting into the void.


  15. April 1, 2016 at 2:53 pm

    Point well taken.

    You should also look into screaming women. I like watching mysteries on TV and I swear the only ones who scream are female characters. The males just grimace slightly.

    Liked by 1 person

    • April 1, 2016 at 3:00 pm

      They might scream often, but they don’t scream a quarter as often as they cry. One thing at a time…

      Liked by 1 person

  16. April 1, 2016 at 3:13 pm

    Just watched a marathon of Hell on Wheels seasons 1-4 on Netflix. Impressed by 1) not a slew of women crying (except when appropriate), and 2) lead male breaking down in sobs when burying his best friend after having killed said best friend to protect townspeople. He also had tears well in his eyes/a bit of a catch in his voice when he was telling the person in charge that he was leaving the railroad to go in search of his family. It was a refreshing change.

    And I also recently binged on Jessica Jones and agree with you on Jessica. Complex character instead of being a cliché.


    • April 1, 2016 at 4:04 pm

      I never got around to Hell on Wheels, but you’ve sold it to me. Appropriate crying – or even unexpected crying – is quite okay with me. Line up my next binge-watching session!


  17. April 1, 2016 at 3:39 pm

    Erm – don’t all the best fun-guys love moist, nurturing environments…?

    I’ll get me coat…. 😉

    Liked by 1 person

  18. April 1, 2016 at 4:21 pm


    Liked by 1 person

  19. April 1, 2016 at 5:05 pm

    Great post and awesome points. I have to admit I’m a crier. I get choked up at weddings, and I’ve let loose at a couple funerals (good grief, I’m tearing up just thinking about it). I cry at movies, I cry when I see other people crying. I was a grief counselor for a long time and empathy played a big role in the healing process. That said, you are so right about the stereotypes. I have little use for overly weepy women who need to be rescued. And the hardasses, though entertaining at times, don’t have much depth as typically portrayed. As a crier, this post is a good reminder to me to keep an eye on my characters. Thank you! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    • April 1, 2016 at 7:48 pm

      But do you cry every day, Diana? Do you cry when you get an e-mail? Or when someone says good morning? Or every time someone takes your photograph? Because that’s what it’s like for the screen weepers (as opposed to screen wipers, which are a whole different thing, and worthy of their own post, if only I had the strength and courage to go for it….

      Liked by 1 person

  20. April 1, 2016 at 5:06 pm

    I suspect women gushing tears like a burn in spate are throwbacks to Victorian fiction, where basically this was the only acceptable form of middle or upper class female. The others, the working class women, weren’t regarded as women. They were a unique under species devoid of emotions and feelings, and place in society. Only women in big houses tended by armies of servants had feelings, or time to languish in their them and shed floods of tears (probably in frustration at their own inability to play a part in the world outwith the narrow confines of what was allowed them). And of course most of these characters were the creation of men. Sadly, many women have been happy to continue this tradition. Strong females are disliked by women as well as men.

    Liked by 1 person

    • April 1, 2016 at 7:50 pm

      Not by this female, Dorothy. I like my fictional women like I like my coffee: dark, well-rounded, lukewarm, and with an undertone of bitterness.


  21. April 1, 2016 at 6:07 pm

    I never understood the name of the group ‘TEARS FOR FEARS’ Does everybody want to rule the world? Does anyone? Is it an obscure bargaining tool? Does it mean we should be afraid of onions? Could it be the next promotional campaign for authors… If I cry will you buy my book?

    I voted for you. So, I think you should continue to rule the world.

    Liked by 1 person

    • April 1, 2016 at 7:54 pm

      What, you mean of your own free will? I was wondering whose vote that was. The others had all been carefully bribed, coerced and downright terrorised. This is great. A gilt-edged packet of tissues is winging its way to you as we speak.

      Liked by 1 person

  22. Ali Isaac
    April 2, 2016 at 12:42 am

    Sorry to disappoint you Tara, but I am a crier. I haven’t noticed the crying woman in literature though, but if I came across her, I’d find her extremely annoying. I also hate kick-ass heroine types of women too, it seems a woman can’t be strong without being kick-ass. So many stereotypes in literature and films when it comes to the portrayal of women, when all we want is realistic characters. Surely writers know what a real woman is? They’re surrounded by them every day, mothers sisters wives etc… or are they not good enough, for some reason?

    Liked by 1 person

    • April 2, 2016 at 12:58 am

      Not disappointed at all, Ali, but I think people are picking me up wrong here. My problem is not with women who cry: my problem is with fictional women who only cry. They are written as having only one method of emoting sadness, fear, anger, frustration, relief, and extreme happiness, and that is to cry. Just want to make that clear, in case I get lynched by the Sisterhood in a dark alley (the kickass ones, obvs) later tonight…

      Liked by 1 person

      • Ali Isaac
        April 2, 2016 at 1:02 am

        Are you in the habit of lurking in dark alleys on your own at night then?

        Liked by 1 person

        • April 2, 2016 at 1:04 am

          Oh god yeah. Can’t get enough of them. But the Guards know me. I’m officially allowed between certain hours on Tuesdays and Fridays.

          Liked by 1 person

          • Ali Isaac
            April 2, 2016 at 1:10 am

            Oh no! You just set me off crying again… with laughter this time. See? Real women do react with tears to everything after all. Shame you have to go to all the effort of finding a deserted dark alley to shed your tears in. Cry in public and be proud!

            Liked by 1 person

            • April 2, 2016 at 1:16 am

              I couldn’t possibly. Tark and Mara would never speak to me again. And then where would I be?


  23. April 2, 2016 at 12:11 pm

    As a male writer I’m obviously doing something wrong. The only crying I can recall in Ravens Gathering is by a bloke. Maybe it’s because I was brought up in a house full of women. As Ronnie Corbett once said: I know my place.

    Liked by 1 person

    • April 2, 2016 at 12:53 pm

      You’ll be well-placed when the Woman No Cry revolution happens in fiction, Graeme. I can get you your own placard, if you like.

      Liked by 1 person

  24. April 2, 2016 at 12:39 pm

    Having been employed to sing at loads of weddings and funerals, there are all types. Generally, it’s not typically British to sob in public. Most people are still quite stiff upper lip about such things in the UK. But I have attended weddings where the bride is bawling her eyes out when saying her vows, and I think “Hey, don’t you want to get married?” What I’ve noticed is that these are not always the marriages that last the longest, so I suspect that much of the sobbing is for show and the emotions expressed only skin deep. Obviously, it’s more understandable for people to break down giving a eulogy at a funeral, but it still doesn’t happen that much.
    I blame TV soap operas, where they’re either screaming at each other or crying. So maybe crying in public is on the increase, as it’s learned behaviour from media fiction. Who knows? I don’t see women crying in the street or the supermarket, or anywhere else. Screaming, yes. Crying no!

    Liked by 1 person

    • April 2, 2016 at 12:57 pm

      I think weddings and funerals are exceptional cases, Sarah! They are very highly charged emotional events. I defy anyone not to react to someone dying before their time, or making the awesome commitment of marriage. But there is balance in weddings and funerals I go to, in that there are tears at some and not at others.

      In any case, this post isn’t about real life. It’s about the fictional world, where there are only tears. I wouldn’t mind that, only for the fact that every event in a female character’s life has to be an emotional event. Phone calls. Car crashes. Running races. Picking noses. All cause for crying, apparently.

      Liked by 1 person

  25. April 3, 2016 at 7:16 pm

    When I saw the title to this post, I cringed, because I knew it would be a case of mea culpa. As I worked over later drafts of my last novel I realised that my heroine had sobbed her way (in private) through half of the book. I then rewrote all the crying scenes trying to dry her out. She does other things apart from crying and it is an upbeat story about suicide and I have some men crying too… still, I agree, a soggy prospect is not enticing.

    Liked by 1 person

    • April 4, 2016 at 6:22 pm

      Well, my job here is done, Hilary. Making people cringe is my forte. I’m glad your heroine dried out, though. And no expensive rehab bill either!

      Liked by 1 person

  26. April 4, 2016 at 8:13 am

    You nailed it there. It goes hand in hand/glove with the feisty kick ass female. The no cry, no heart, all action power woman, preferably with no clothes either. I love a good cry. Do it myself all the time. But I try and get round the emotional imbalance by having the boys cry too on occasion, and when the girls cry, it’s brief, they wipe their eyes, and punch somebody in the face.

    Liked by 1 person

    • April 4, 2016 at 6:24 pm

      Now THAT’S what I call a good cry. I’ll allow anyone to cry if they follow it up with a face-punch. Lovely work, Jane. Let’s just hope your way becomes the new norm, and with any luck, even a cliché in our time.

      Liked by 1 person

  27. May 22, 2016 at 2:47 pm

    God you’re so right Tara, I guess I couldn’t see it through my veil of tears!!! Must scan my MSS and make sure the tear-fests are kept to an absolute minimum (or a trickle anyway) Great post 😉

    Liked by 1 person

    • May 22, 2016 at 10:16 pm

      Thanks Evie! My golden aim is for the reader to cry, not have the characters do it all for them 😉

      Liked by 1 person

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