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![]() ![]() "I like a little security in my life to have some money to go on vacation." "Maybe I'm not enough of an artist," Rabagliati shrugs. A toy kitchen range squeezed to one wall next to a photocopier, a wall-length cork board tacked with posters and sketches all manner of cartoonage above expensive-looking computer equipment, a polished light table and an ergonomic office chair. The atelier is cosy and bright, beyond clean. "Stop it, Biscuit," the cartoonist calls as he swats the pet away, but it follows you, tongue-to-limb, past the kitchen and down the stairs to the immaculate basement studio. You are in the foyer of Michel Rabagliati's suburban home a tan, well-kept, sensible abode. ![]() A foot-long poodle is licking your shins. ![]()
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