What Each Enneagram Type Loves (and Hates) About Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is the annual event where we all gather to perform the strange, ancient ritual of pretending everything is normal while holding back the emotional equivalent of a minor volcanic eruption. It’s the holiday where you sit at a table with people you love, people you tolerate, and at least one person you would absolutely fight in a grocery store parking lot — and everyone is somehow wearing sweaters with leaves on them like this is a Hallmark special and not a psychological obstacle course disguised as a meal.

We call it “gratitude,” but it’s really a buffet of unresolved childhood patterns with a side of mashed potatoes. It’s also the one day where every Enneagram type gets to shine and suffer in their own beautifully deranged way. Each type has Things They Love about Thanksgiving. Also Things They Hate. Also A Silent Internal Crisis They Will Absolutely Not Admit To Until Three Days After, Barefoot in the Kitchen, Eating Pie Straight From the Tin.

So let’s go through the types. Brace yourself.

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What Each Enneagram Type Loves (And Hates) About Thanksgiving

 

ENNEAGRAM 1 — The Perfectionist Standing in a Kitchen That Is Never Clean Enough

Ones love Thanksgiving because it gives them a chance to do things right. Like, objectively right. Cranberries arranged with geometric precision. Rolls placed exactly one inch apart. A table so symmetrical it could make God weep.

And here’s the thing: Ones genuinely love the idea of Thanksgiving — the pure version they carry in their heads: gratefulness, thankfulness, intentionality, a family coming together and not immediately descending into theological warfare over the stuffing. But unfortunately they’re also cursed with awareness. They know the holiday’s roots are… let’s say “complicated.” So they spend the entire week in an internal wrestling match:
“Gratitude is holy.”
“Colonization is bad.”
“I can give thanks.”
“But I must do so responsibly and with historical accuracy.”
Meanwhile the turkey is still frozen.

WHAT ENNEAGRAM 1 LOVES ABOUT THANKSGIVING:
• A schedule everyone promises they’ll follow and inevitably won’t, but for a moment it exists like a rare celestial event.
• The fantasy — not delusion, fantasy — that a family can sit around a table and appreciate each other without passive-aggressive commentary about politics or gluten.
• The moral satisfaction of practicing gratitude with sincerity, even if half the people around them are treating “thankfulness” like a performative group assignment.
• A clean house that says, “You are good. You have done well.” (For the three minutes it lasts.)

WHAT ENNEAGRAM 1 HATES ABOUT THANKSGIVING:
• People breathing in the kitchen.
• People existing in the kitchen.
• People touching things in the kitchen without asking, especially things the One has already optimized for proper oven rotation.
• The holiday’s complicated history looming in the back of their mind like a doctoral thesis they didn’t ask to write.
• When someone says, “It’s fine!” when it is very clearly not fine, because the stuffing is burning and also America as a concept is burning and could everyone please just stop talking for five seconds.

Ones move through Thanksgiving like tired saints dragging a cross made of to-do lists, moral dilemmas, and the weight of every un-washed dish. They don’t want to be the responsible one, but who else is going to keep the green beans from being mushy?

No one.
Because everyone else is wrong.
And the One is trying so hard not to say it out loud.

But here’s the quiet truth under all that righteous overwhelm: they really do want the day to be good — wholesome, meaningful, anchored in gratitude that isn’t shallow or sanitized. They hope for it the way some people hope for miracles.

Even if they know they’ll spend the night cleaning the kitchen in despair, whispering prayers for the world, and rewriting the family chore chart in a moment of rage-induced clarity.

ENNEAGRAM 2 — The Warm, Overextended Human Crock-Pot of Everyone Else’s Emotions

Twos enter Thanksgiving like they’ve been training for it their entire lives. This is their Olympics. This is their World Cup. This is the annual festival of feeding people and calling it love, and they’re thriving and dying at the same time in a very poetic, Dickensian-orphan-meets-Martha-Stewart way.

Twos love Thanksgiving because it gives them an excuse to perform their love language at maximum volume. They get to nurture, soothe, anticipate needs, and emotionally babysit every breathing mammal in the house. They are the human embodiment of, “Do you have enough? Are you warm? Are you emotionally stable? Do you need more pie to process that feeling?”

But underneath all their warmth is a tiny shaking chihuahua of fear whispering:
“If I stop being indispensable someone will replace me with a store-bought pie and I will die.”

This is fine. Everything is fine.

WHAT ENNEAGRAM 2 LOVES ABOUT THANKSGIVING:
• The opportunity to cook twelve dishes no one asked for, just “in case someone feels like having options.”
• The fantasy that this year, their emotional labor will be recognized and applauded like an award-winning Broadway performance.
• The look on someone’s face when they say, “Oh my gosh, you made this just for me?” (Yes. Yes they did. They would also die for you. This is not hyperbole.)
• Getting to “take care” of everyone in a way that makes them feel like the guardian angel of the entire extended family.
• The warm fuzzies that come from giving love in edible form, because feelings are complicated but mashed potatoes are simple and pure.

WHAT ENNEAGRAM 2 HATES ABOUT THANKSGIVING:
• When people refuse help because “you’ve already done enough,” which is the emotional equivalent of stabbing them in the pancreas.
• When their efforts go unnoticed because someone is too busy arguing about football to appreciate that the cranberry sauce was strained through a fine mesh sieve like a sacrament.
• The creeping resentment that builds up when they realize they haven’t sat down in six hours and no one has asked if they’re okay.
• That internal, shameful spiral of: “If I’m exhausted and bitter, does that mean my love isn’t pure? Am I a fraud? Should I join a monastery?”

Twos hover through the holiday like a battle-worn cloud pouring rain onto everyone else’s crops while forgetting to water their own. They desperately want to be appreciated but will deny this with the intensity of a medieval knight defending their honor.

But here’s the thing: under the people-pleasing, under the casseroles, under the emotional triage training they did in childhood… they just want connection. Real, mutual connection where their love is recognized and returned — even a little.

So if you have a Two in your Thanksgiving orbit, please:
Tell them they’re allowed to sit.
Tell them you see them.
Tell them the pie is perfect.
Tell them they don’t have to earn their place at the table.

Because even though they’ll probably ignore you and refill your drink anyway…
They needed to hear it.

ENNEAGRAM 3 — The Holiday Overachiever Who Will Emotionally Implode If You Don’t Notice Their Effort

Threes approach Thanksgiving the way other people approach TED Talks or hostile mergers: with poise, charm, and spreadsheets that absolutely did not need to exist but somehow make everything feel more official. They aren’t just hosting Thanksgiving. They are producing it. Like a prestige limited series. With a budget.

If a Three is cooking, just know the stuffing has been optimized through A/B testing. If they’re decorating, the tablescape has a backstory. If they’re showing up as a guest, they’re bringing a dish that says, “I thought about this, I executed this, and I would like applause in a reasonable timeframe.”

Threes love the chance to shine. To impress. To prove (to themselves, but mostly to their childhood ghosts) that they are competent, capable, and a valuable asset to the human species.

WHAT ENNEAGRAM 3 LOVES ABOUT THANKSGIVING:
• The opportunity to curate a holiday experience so seamless it looks like a lifestyle blogger had a baby with a Pinterest mood board.
• Showcasing their cooking/baking/decor/hospitality skills with the enthusiasm of someone competing in a televised challenge.
• Seeing people genuinely enjoy themselves and being able to whisper internally, “Yes. I did that. Me. The hero.”
• Wearing an outfit that subtly says, “I woke up like this,” even though they absolutely did not.
• The moment after dinner when everyone compliments the meal and the Three gets a dopamine hit strong enough to erase six months of accumulated stress.

WHAT ENNEAGRAM 3 HATES ABOUT THANKSGIVING:
• When someone notices a flaw before noticing the forty-seven things they did perfectly.
• Being asked to “relax” when relaxing feels like letting the world assume they’re ordinary.
• Slow-moving people who clog the kitchen workflow like existential tumbleweeds.
• When Aunt Kathy brings her “famous” store-bought pie and gets praised for it, triggering the Three’s inner monologue of: “I could run her over with a casserole dish.”
• The intrusive thought that Thanksgiving isn’t supposed to be a performance… which is rude, inaccurate, and honestly unhelpful.

Threes treat Thanksgiving like a job interview conducted by their entire family, past, present, and hypothetical future. They’re smiling, sparkling, succeeding — but maybe not feeling much of anything underneath the hustle except the faint echo of burnout and an internal voice muttering, “Keep it together, keep it together, please keep it together.”

But here’s the (cringey, to Threes) truth:
Threes want to feel loved for who they are, not what they do.
They just don’t trust that’s allowed.

So if you have a Three at your Thanksgiving table, tell them they can sit down. Tell them the meal is amazing. Tell them the holiday would be a feral disaster without their brilliance.

Then tell them — genuinely — that you’d love them even if everything were a mess.

ENNEAGRAM 4 — The Brooding Soul Who Experiences Thanksgiving as an Existential Art Film

Fours walk into Thanksgiving like they’re entering a foreign land where everyone speaks a dialect of Small Talk and Repressed Emotion, and they’re the only ones with subtitles turned on. They love Thanksgiving in theory: the warmth, the candles, the idea of family gathering around a table like a Norman Rockwell painting with emotional depth. But the execution? The predictable menu? The social expectations? The sudden, suffocating awareness that everyone else seems content with beige casseroles and surface-level conversation?

It’s all… a lot.

Fours want Thanksgiving to feel meaningful. Sacred. Poetic. They want gratitude that cracks your ribs open and lets your soul out for a walk. They want to stare out a window and whisper something like, “The light is different today,” and have at least one person say, “Wow. Yes. So true.”

Unfortunately, the universe placed them in a family where someone is loudly asking whether the turkey is dry while a child screams about yams.

WHAT ENNEAGRAM 4 LOVES ABOUT THANKSGIVING:
• The aesthetic potential — candles, fall colors, sweaters that make them look like a melancholy poet who forages mushrooms by moonlight.
• That one quiet moment before guests arrive where the house looks soft and magical and they can fantasize that everyone will be emotionally present and not immediately bring up politics.
• The chance to feel deep gratitude, the kind that makes their eyes get misty and their journal get heavy.
• The idea of family connection… in an idealized, cinematic form where everyone understands each other on a soul level and no one says, “So… what are you doing with your life?”
• Pie. Pie understands them.

WHAT ENNEAGRAM 4 HATES ABOUT THANKSGIVING:
• The performative gratitude circle where people list blessings like they’re reading off grocery receipts, and the Four is suddenly expected to tone down their intensity.
• Feeling “too much” or “not enough” or “weird” or “invisible” — sometimes all within the same minute.
• The emotional whiplash of wanting connection but also wanting to go home and lie on the floor listening to sad music.
• Being compared to siblings or cousins who appear more “together,” triggering the existential thought spiral of: “Why was I born like this? Is my soul defective? Should I disappear into the forest?”
• The beige-ness of the food. The beige-ness of the conversation. The beige-ness of the vibe. Please, someone, hand them something meaningful before they suffocate.

Fours crave the intimacy of the holiday but feel painfully aware of how they don’t quite fit into the traditional script. They sit there, scooping out what can only be described as green bean mushroom slop, feeling like a misunderstood side character in everyone else’s cheerful family sitcom.

But here’s the thing:
Fours bring depth. Meaning. Emotional resonance. They’re the ones who can turn a simple moment into something unforgettable — a look, a memory, a comment that somehow hits straight into the marrow of what everyone was actually feeling but too afraid to say.

If you have a Four at your table, give them permission to be themselves. Ask a real question. Let them answer in 17 tangled sentences. Tell them their presence adds color to the holiday.

ENNEAGRAM 5 — The Quiet Observer Who Regrets Leaving Their House the Moment the Door Closes

Fives experience Thanksgiving like someone dropped them into a live-action social experiment against their will. They want knowledge, space, internal coherence — and what they get instead is: noise. People. Questions about their life choices. And the annual performance review known as “So what have you been up to?” asked by relatives who definitely don’t want the actual answer.

To a Five, Thanksgiving is basically a hostage situation with side dishes.

Here’s the paradox: Fives actually love parts of Thanksgiving: the familiar menu, the chance to observe humanity attempting to bond over carbohydrates. They love watching how people interact like chaotic case studies in emotional anthropology. They love the idea of gratitude, the philosophical kernel of it — the meditation on mortality, abundance, interconnectedness, all that poetic stuff that no one wants to talk about because they’re too busy arguing about football.

But they dread the part where they must interact. The mingling. The questions. The emotional expectations. And worst of all: the conversational ambushes from people who don’t understand the concept of “I’m thinking; please go away.”

WHAT ENNEAGRAM 5 LOVES ABOUT THANKSGIVING:
• The food. Specifically the parts they can eat quietly in a corner without anyone interpreting it as an invitation for conversation.
• The opportunity to observe interpersonal dysfunction from a safe anthropological distance.
• Slipping away with a book under the pretense of “checking the turkey” and never returning.
• The intellectual satisfaction of knowing more about the historical accuracy of Thanksgiving than everyone else combined.
• When someone asks them to carve the turkey — a task that gives them purpose and keeps people at least three feet away due to the presence of knives.

WHAT ENNEAGRAM 5 HATES ABOUT THANKSGIVING:
• The relentless barrage of human interaction.
• The expectation that they must share. Their thoughts. Their life. Their feelings. Their plans. Their hopes. Their dreams.
• When someone corners them with, “Why are you so quiet?” which is like asking a fish, “Why are you wet?”
• The sensory overload of clattering dishes, loud voices, and seventeen conversations happening at the same volume.
• The internal panic when they realize they’ve been socially “on” for forty-two minutes straight and their brain battery is now down to 3%.

Fives sit through Thanksgiving with the perpetual expression of someone who has just been told there will be a second round of small talk. They’re polite. They’re present. They’re trying. But beneath that calm exterior, a small, exhausted voice is muttering:

“I should have stayed home. I could be reading. I could be studying 16th-century maritime navigation right now. Why am I here?”

But here’s the thing:
Fives bring a strange, beautiful stillness to the chaos. They’re the quiet anchor in a sea of noise. They offer insight no one else has, perspective no one else considers, and a dry, deadpan comment every so often that somehow reveals the meaning of life.

If you have a Five at your Thanksgiving table, give them space. Don’t poke. Don’t pry. Don’t force. Just let them be the calm, brilliant, slightly-overstimulated island they are.

ENNEAGRAM 6 — The Family Lookout Who Already Knows Where the Fire Extinguisher Is

Sixes arrive at Thanksgiving with the energy of someone who has already mentally rehearsed every possible disaster. They’re the people who walk into a room and immediately know where the exits are, which chair is least likely to collapse, and which cousin is most likely to bring up a topic that will ignite a small civil war.

But here’s the part most people miss:
Sixes are looking for the vibe equivalent of a sturdy table that won’t wobble when you cut your turkey. They want safety, loyalty, truth, and maybe someone in the room who knows how to use basic logic. They love good authority, dependable people, honest conversation. They just also have a rebellious streak that makes them suspicious of anyone who stands too confidently at the head of a table and says, “Let’s go around and say what we’re thankful for!”

Sixes can be phobic (soft-spoken, anxious, maybe clutching a dinner roll like a stress toy) or counter-phobic (walking in like Thanksgiving is a bar fight and they are absolutely ready). Either way, their inner monologue is something beautiful like:
“I love my family, but I swear to God if someone knocks over that candle we’re all going up like a colonial reenactment gone wrong.”

WHAT ENNEAGRAM 6 LOVES ABOUT THANKSGIVING:
• The predictability of food. Mashed potatoes do not lie. Turkey does not betray. Stuffing does not launch surprise emotional revelations at the dinner table.
• The chance to troubleshoot everything — the oven temperature, the seating arrangement, the emotional landmines disguised as “harmless questions.”
• Being the person who keeps the ship afloat when everyone else runs around like drunken pilgrims with too much serotonin.
• Loyalty. Familiarity. The same people, the same table, the same traditions — a ritual against existential dread.

WHAT ENNEAGRAM 6 HATES ABOUT THANKSGIVING:
• When someone says, “Don’t worry, everything will turn out fine!” as if that statement has ever been true in the history of existence.
• Authority figures at the table — uncles, patriarchs, self-appointed leaders — who boom instructions like, “Carve the turkey!” or “Say grace!” or “Calm down!” immediately triggering the Counter-phobic Six’s contrarian brain like a fire alarm.
• The performative gratitude segment, which feels less like a heartwarming tradition and more like an emotional pop quiz they didn’t consent to.
• The internal loop of questioning, doubting, questioning the doubt, doubting the questioning, and finally settling into a kind of philosophical exhaustion that can only be soothed with pie.

Sixes are loyal, analytical, sharp. They’re the ones who notice when the oven’s smoking, when the vibes shift, when Grandma’s about to say something politically questionable.

And unlike every other type, Sixes don’t pretend. Their honesty is gritty, warm, grounded. If they tell you they’re grateful for you, it’s not because it’s customary — it’s because they’ve mentally vetted you, stress-tested you, and decided you’re safe to trust.

Just don’t tell them to “relax.”
They will not relax.
And honestly? Someone needs to stay awake.

ENNEAGRAM 7 — The Friend Who Shows Up to Thanksgiving for the Vibes, the Snacks, and the Escape Plan

Sevens love the idea of Thanksgiving: abundance, laughter, dessert, the chance to make everything fun because otherwise the crushing weight of existence might catch up and tap them on the shoulder like, “Hey, remember me?”

But don’t worry — the Seven has outrun that feeling for years. They’re practically a professional.

Sevens bring energy. They bring possibility. They bring animated storytelling and good snacks and backup snacks in case the first snacks disappoint. They bring an unshakeable belief that everything is interesting if you frame it dramatically enough. They’re the ones who can make Uncle Jerry’s political rant sound like a plot arc in a Netflix limited series.

But they also have the attention span of an overstimulated golden retriever, and around hour three they start to realize, with growing despair, that Thanksgiving is not a party. It is a commitment. A stationary one. With no escape hatch except the bathroom.

WHAT ENNEAGRAM 7 LOVES ABOUT THANKSGIVING:
• The sheer joy of options: desserts, sides, beverages, new topics, new jokes, new ways to mess with cousins.
• Any moment where they can be the one telling a story while the entire table leans in like, “Oh God, what now?”
• The dream — the fantasy — that this year Thanksgiving will be magical and cozy and not devolve into boredom or emotional quicksand.
• Being surrounded by people laughing, eating, and being alive because it temporarily distracts them from contemplating their own mortality.
• Pie. All the pies. Ideally at once.

WHAT ENNEAGRAM 7 HATES ABOUT THANKSGIVING:
• Sitting still for long periods, which feels like being slowly absorbed into a sofa-shaped prison.
• When someone says, “No phones at the table,” as if the Seven’s lifeline to serotonin is a moral failing.
• The crushing realization that the main event is “eating and talking” and not “spontaneously driving to a second location for adventure.”
• The existential dread that creeps in if the vibes get heavy, emotional, or tense for more than four seconds.
• Watching people fight while knowing, in their bones, that they could solve this whole mess by suggesting everyone go outside and look at clouds or something.

Sevens are fun, warm, inventive, and allergic to suffering (their own especially; yours is fine as long as there are snacks). They scan the room constantly: “Are we still having fun? Could we have more fun? Should I propose a game? Should I leave? Should I buy plane tickets? Should I start a band?”

If you have a Seven at your Thanksgiving table, give them a job — something chaotic and slightly dangerous, like torching the meringue or running to the store for cinnamon. Let them stir things. Let them improvise. Let them be free-range.

And when they try to leave early to “check on something,” just… let them.
They’ll come back when the emotional atmosphere feels survivable again.

Probably with donuts.

ENNEAGRAM 8 — The Protector Pretending Thanksgiving Is a Battle They Must Win

Eights show up to Thanksgiving like they’re entering a negotiation, a turf war, and a family reunion all at once. They walk in with confidence, presence, and the protective energy of someone who would absolutely fight a bear for the people they love — or fight the people they love if the bear looked at them funny. They’re intense, perceptive, and immune to anything that smells like manipulation, hypocrisy, or emotional weakness disguised as “tradition.”

But here’s the twist that no one ever seems to grasp:
Eights have huge hearts. Huge. Ridiculously huge. Their chest is basically a trench coat wrapped around a beating oven of warmth and loyalty. They care deeply so they armor up, show strength first, softness later (like… much later, ideally when no one’s looking).

Thanksgiving puts them in a weird position. They love the food, the people, the ritual of gathering, the feeling of tribe. But they also hate the forced niceness, the obligatory gratitude circle, and any family member who tries to assert dominance in “their space” because suddenly it’s like two alpha wolves circling one turkey and things could get feral.

WHAT ENNEAGRAM 8 LOVES ABOUT THANKSGIVING:
• The primal satisfaction of a huge meal that feels like a victory feast after conquering an empire.
• The chance to take charge of something (the grill, the carving knife, the seating arrangement, the general social hierarchy).
• Protecting the underdog at the table — the shy cousin, the kid who hates crowds, the person someone else is picking on. Eights will turn Thanksgiving into a Marvel movie if necessary.
• Straightforward gratitude — none of the saccharine nonsense, just “I’m glad you’re here. Pass the potatoes.”
• That feeling of belonging, of family, of tribe… even if they’d rather swallow a fork than admit it.

WHAT ENNEAGRAM 8 HATES ABOUT THANKSGIVING:
• Being told what to do. Instantly no. Hard pass. They will physically evaporate.
• Passive-aggressive comments, subtle manipulation, emotional baiting — basically anything involving stealth, guilt, or dishonesty.
• Fake gratitude circles where everyone says safe, predictable things instead of naming the raw truth.
• People acting fragile or overly polite just because it’s a holiday.
• When someone else tries to be the “head of the table,” causing the Eight’s internal monologue to go full gladiator:
“Oh? You think you’re in charge?”

If you have an Eight at your Thanksgiving table, don’t tiptoe. Don’t fake it. Don’t manipulate. Just be real. Be direct. Be yourself. They’ll respect you for it, and maybe even soften a little.

And if anyone at dinner starts bullying, poking, or stirring the pot?
Sit back.
Relax.
The Eight already stood up, cracked their knuckles, and whispered,
“Not today.”

ENNEAGRAM 9 — The Peaceful Potato Trying to Survive the Chaotic Casserole of Human Emotion

Nines show up to Thanksgiving like soft, lovable marshmallows drifting into a tornado. They want harmony. They want warmth. They want to sit at the table, eat comforting food, and pretend—just for today—that everyone loves each other, no one has unresolved trauma, and the political topic creeping up the table like a venomous fog will magically disappear if they chew their turkey slowly enough.

Nines adore the idea of Thanksgiving: the cozy vibes, the cinnamon smells, the quiet gratitude, the feeling that maybe, if everyone just chills out, the world could be one big weighted blanket. But the reality? Too many voices, too many emotions, too many people asking questions they don’t want to answer:

“So what have you been up to?”
“Any big plans for next year?”
“Are you seeing anyone?”
“What do you think about what the president said?”

The Nine’s soul immediately leaves their body and hides behind a houseplant.

But they try. They nod. They smile. They say, “Uh-huh, yeah,” with the gentle earnestness of someone who would like very much to teleport into a forest.

WHAT ENNEAGRAM 9 LOVES ABOUT THANKSGIVING:
• The carbs.
• The cozy, soft, non-threatening vibe of mashed potatoes — truly the patron saint of their inner peace.
• The fantasy that this year, everyone will get along and no one will yell, fight, or bring up the phrase “the economy.”
• Getting to just be around people they love without having to perform or impress.
• Napping. In a chair. In a corner. With a blanket. This is their Super Bowl.

WHAT ENNEAGRAM 9 HATES ABOUT THANKSGIVING:
• Loud relatives who argue for fun, as if conflict is a recreational sport.
• Being asked what they think about controversial topics when they were just trying to enjoy a roll.
• The sensory overload of twenty conversations happening at once in a kitchen the size of a pantry.
• Their chronic inability to pick a side dish when asked, “Do you want stuffing or sweet potatoes?” which feels like choosing between children.

Nines experience Thanksgiving like they’re floating through a dream sequence with occasional pockets of dread. They’re warm, gentle, diplomatic, and genuinely want everyone to feel included. They’ll smooth over tension with a joke, a soft nod, or by quietly handing someone more pie (the international peace treaty of desserts).

But beneath that calm exterior is a tired soul thinking,
“I swear to God, if one more person raises their voice, I will fuse into this chair and never leave.”

If you have a Nine at your Thanksgiving table, let them sit somewhere comfortable. Don’t put them in the middle of the chaos. Give them a soft seat, a warm plate, and the option to disappear without consequences.

And most importantly:
Do. Not. Make. Them. Choose. The. Movie. After. Dinner.
They will absolutely perish.

What Do You Think?

Do you feel yourself relating a little too strongly? Not at all? Let me know in the comments!

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