text:
REUVEIN MARGOLIES, (Hebrew: ראובן מרגליות) (November 30, 1889 – August 28, 1971) was an Israeli author, Talmudic scholar and head of the Rambam library.

Early life

Margolies was born in 1889 in Lemberg (now Lviv), then part of the Austrian-Hungarian Empire and now in Ukraine and from 1918 to 1940 in Poland. After the passing of his wife, he emigrated to Israel in 1934, settling in Tel-Aviv.

Writings

Margolies authored over 55 books on Jewish topics. He possessed a photographic memory, and was well versed in all aspects of both the written Bible, Oral Torah (Talmud and its commentaries) and Kabbalah (Zohar etc.). He established the Rambam library.

He wrote on a wide range of subjects; His works were meant for both scholars and laymen alike. All of his writings are in Hebrew.

He wrote on the formation of the Mishna and the Talmud displaying originality in thought, and a wide range of knowledge.

He further wrote on the Kabbalah. Such works include “The Rambam and the Zohar” demonstrating correlations between Maimonides Mishneh Torah and the Zohar; _Nitzotzei Zohar_ demonstrating correlations between the Tannatic and Amoraic works (such as the Talmud and Medrashim) and the Zohar.

He was also involved in a controversy with Gershon Scholem over the Rabbi Jacob Emden/Rabbi Jonathan Eybeshuetz controversy. Margulies produced a pamphlet defending R. Eybeshuetz and in response Scholem produced his own disagreeing with Marguleis's conclusions.

He wrote a number of scholarly biographies of major Jewish personalities such as Maharsha, Ohr Ha-Chaim Hakodosh, Noam Elimelech, Rabbi Moses ben Nachman (Ramban), and R' Yechiel of Paris including valuable annotation clarifying ideas in their works. The biographies focus primarily on their methods of scholarship and not on their personalities. First printed in Poland, they were never reprinted.

He wrote several works concerning the development of a legal system in the newly formed Jewish State (Kavei Ohr, Tal Techiyah).

According to Dr. Yitzchok Raphael, his writing is in a terse style designed to concentrate a maximum amount of information in a minimum of space.

Awards

-   In 1957, Margolies was awarded the Israel Prize for his work on Rabbinical literature.[1]

Bibliography

-   _Toldot Adam_ (Lemberg 1912) on R. Shmuel Edels, also known by the acronym “Maharsha”
-   _Kav Bashamaim_ (Lemberg 1913), notes on the writings of the Tosafists
-   _Kavei Ohr_ and _Tal Techiya_ (Lemberg 1921), two volumes on Jewish law in the Land of Israel, and essays on various topics, including “Medicine and Healers in the Talmud”, “The Laws of Ger Toshav”, and the first printing of “Yesod Hamishna Va'arichatah”
-   _Yesod Hamishna Va'arichatah_ (Lemberg, printed on its own first in 1923, then 1933, with addendums in Jerusalem 1956) on the creation of the Mishna
-   _Sefer Hasidim_ (Lemberg 1924, Jerusalem 1957, 1960, 1964, 1970) by Rabbi Yehuda Hachassid, with biographical information, commentaries, and his own notes titled Mekor Hessed
-   _Tolodot Rabbenu Hayyim ben Atar_ (Lemberg, 1925), biography on the Ohr ha-Hayyim includes the notes of Rabbi Meir Dan Plotzky (_Kli Chemdah_)
-   _Ohr Meir_ (Lemberg 1926, Tel-Aviv 1964), biography of R. Meir of Przemyślany
-   _Margenita d'Reb Meir_ (Lemberg 1926, Germany 1948, Tel-Aviv 1964), sayings of the above R. Meir
-   _She'elot Uteshuvot Min Hashamayim_ (Lemberg 1926, 1929, Jerusalem 1957), the responsa of R' Yaakov the Tosafist, who claimed to have received answers to questions of Jewish law from an angel, with R. Margolios's extensive notes, as well as a comprehensive introduction discussing prophecy and its effect on Jewish law and other related topics
-   _Yalkut Margoliot_ (Lemberg 1927), homiletic material for Sabbaths and holidays, and various times of the year
-   _Imrei Kadosh Hashalem_ (Lemberg 1928)
-   _Vikuach Rabbenu Yehiel miParis_ (Lemberg, 1928), the disputation of Rabbi Yehiel of Paris in 1240, with biography of R. Yehiel
-   _Mekor Hesed_ (Lemberg 1928)
-   _Lecheker Shemot Vekinuyim Batalmud_ (Lemberg 1928, Jerusalem 1960), on names and nicknames in the Talmud
-   _Hilula D'Tzidkaya_ (Lemberg 1929, Tel-Aviv 1930, 1961), a collection of different views and customs of great Torah scholars
-   _Vikuach HaRamban_ (Bilgoraj 1928), the disputation of Nachmanides against Pablo Christiani in 1263, with his notes
-   _Butzina D'Nehora Hashalem_ (Bilgoraj 1930)
-   _Gevurat Ari_ (Lemberg 1930)
-   _Toldot Rabbenu Avrohom Maimoni_ (Lemberg 1930), biography of the son of Maimonides, Rabbi Abraham ben HaRambam, including his responsa translated from the original Arabic
-   _Mekor Baruch_ (Lemberg 1931)
-   _Shem Olam_ (Lemberg 1931, 1962), an attempt to discover the authorities behind the Talmudic phrase “One said... and one said...” in Midrash, Babylonian Talmud, and Jerusalem Talmud
-   _Nefesh Haya_ (Lemberg 1932, Tel-Aviv 1954), notes on Shulchan Orakh Orakh Haim
-   _Hagadah shel Pesach_ (Tel-Aviv 1937, 1950), with commentary
-   _Sichot Chachamim_ (Tel-Aviv 1938), a collection of sayings and quotes from various rabbinic sages
-   _Ner LaMaor_ (Bilgoraj 1932, Jerusalem 1959), notes and emendations on the book Ohr HaHaim by Rabbi Haim ben Atar
-   _Mekor Habracha_ (Lember 1934), on clarifying the concept of making a blessing for a Torah commandment “al asiyatan”, as well as the formulation of the blessings
-   _Zohar_ (Jerusalem 1940-1946, 1960) with his extensive notes (multiple printings)
-   _Sibat Hitnagduto_ (Tel-Aviv 1941), discussing the R. Emden/R. Eybeschitz controversy
-   _Mal'ache Elyon_ (Jerusalem 1945, 1964) on angels in the thought of Hazal
-   _Olelot_ (Jerusalem 1947), essays on various topics
-   _Tekunei Zohar_ (Tel-Aviv 1948), a kabbalistic work attributed to Rabbi Shimon Bar Yohai, with extensive notes by Rabbi Margolies
-   _Sefer HaBahir_ (Jerusalem 1951), a kabbalistic work attributed to Rabbi Nehunye Ben HaKaneh with extensive notes by Rabbi Margolies
-   _Zohar Hadash_ (Jerusalem 1953), a collection of statements from the Zohar, arranged according to the weekly portion. Includes a discussion of the tradition of the Zohar, as well as comparisons of sayings from the Talmud and Midrash, with the Zohar
-   _Milchamot Hashem_ (Jerusalem 1953), the famous book by Rabbi Abraham ben HaRambam about the controversy surrounding his father, Maimonides. This version is based on the manuscript from the Vatican. The introduction is a biography of Rabbi Abraham ben HaRambam by Rabbi Morgolies
-   _Mefarshei HaTalmud_ (Jerusalem 1954-1961), a commentary on some parts of the Talmud
-   _Shaarei Zohar_ (Jerusalem 1957) notes on the Talmud directing one to the relevant passages in Zohar.
-   _Margalios HaYam_ (Jerusalem 1958), a commentary on Sanhedrin
-   _D'varim B'Itam_ (Tel-Aviv 1959), homiletic material for Sabbaths and holidays and various times of the year
-   _HaMikra Vehamesora_ (Jerusalem 1964, 1965), various articles relating to issues of chain of tradition in Judaism, as well as other various topics
-   _Mechkarim Bedarkei Hatalmud Vechidotav_ (Jerusalem 1967), varied essays on the Talmud
-   _Peninim U'Margoliyot_ A posthumously published collection of essays.

There is also a memorial volume edited by Dr. Yitchak Raphael and published by Mossad R' Kook, which describes these and more books in more detail.

[1]

title: Reuvein Margolies

question: What does the text say about the qualities that make a good writer?

question: What does the text say about Reuvein Margolies?

answer: Reuvein Margolies (November 30, 1889 – August 28, 1971) was an Israeli author, Talmudic scholar, and head of the Rambam library, which he established. He was born in Lemberg (now Lviv), then part of the Austrian-Hungarian Empire, and now in Ukraine and from 1918 to 1940 in Poland. After the passing of his wife, he emigrated to Israel in 1934, settling in Tel-Aviv. Margolies possessed a photographic memory and was well versed in all aspects of both the written Bible, Oral Torah, and Kabbalah. He authored over 55 books on Jewish topics and all his writings are in Hebrew. Margolies wrote about a wide range of topics, including several works concerning the development of a legal system in the newly-formed Jewish State (Kavei Ohr, Tal Techiyah). His terse writing style is designed to concentrate a maximum amount of information in a minimum amount of space. Margolies was awarded the Israel Prize for his work on Rabbinical literature in 1957.


split: test

text:
BRANKO'S BRIDGE () is the second-largest bridge (after Gazela) of Belgrade, Serbia, connecting the city center with New Belgrade across Sava river. Built in 1956 on the foundations of the 1934 King Alexander Bridge, which was destroyed in World War II, it reconnected Belgrade and Zemun as the only motorway bridge at the time. After several official and unofficial names, the present name stuck after the Brankova Street, which extends into the bridge from the direction of the old section of Belgrade.

Location

On the right (eastern) bank, the bridge starts at the Sava Port, above the _Karađorđeva_ Street, central street in the neighborhood of Savamala. The bridge is an extension of the _Brankova_ Street, which delineates it from the neighborhood of Kosančićev Venac on the north and Zeleni Venac on the south. Through the Terazije tunnel, the _Brankova_ connects it directly to downtown. On the left (western) bank, the bridge enters New Belgrade between the neighborhoods of Staro Sajmište, on the south, and Ušće, on the north. It extends into the _Bulevar Mihajla Pupina_ which, passing between the Ušće Tower and Hyatt Regency Belgrade Hotel, connects it with New Belgrade and continues to the neighborhood of Zemun.[1][2]

Name

Official name of the bridge during the communist rule was “Brotherhood and unity bridge” (_Most bratstva i jedinstva_), but that name never caught on. Citizens referred to it as the “Savski most” (_Sava bridge_), “Zemunski most” (_Zemun bridge_) and the “bridge in Branko's street”, as the bridge is an extension of the _Brankova_ street, named after Branko Radičević, Serbian romanticist poet. The latter name was colloquially shortened to Brankov most (Branko's bridge) and the name prevailed.[3] Urban myth is that the bridge got its name after the writer, Branko Ćopić, committed a suicide by jumping from the bridge in 1984.[4][5][6]

The official, administrative name is: Bridge across Sava in extension of Brankova Street.[7]

History

[King Alexander Bridge, 1934–1941 predecessor of Branko's Bridge]

The bridge was built in 1956,[8] replacing the former chain-stayed King Alexander Bridge (built by a joint venture of Gutehoffnungshütte and Société de Construction des Batignolles) that was opened on 16 December 1934 and blown up in 1941.[9] The bridge actually uses lower parts of the former bridge's pylons (decorated by Ivan Meštrović with two couples of reinforced concrete in Serbo-Byzantium style) as outer constraints for its two secondary spans.[10] It is long, made as continuous steel box girder, with central span of and side spans of each. It is crossed by nearly 90,000 vehicles daily, and traffic congestions are frequent.[11]

German company MAN is behind the original project of the bridge. Belgrade-based “Mostprojekt” company executed the project of doubling the bridge capacity in the 1970s. Head of the project team was Danilo Dragojević.[12] Since the works were finished in 1979, the bridge has dual carriageway with three lanes in both directions and actually consists of two separate constructions in each direction.[13]

In the Interbellum, the trams connected Belgrade to Zemun via King Alexander I bridge. After the war, in the 1950s, the general idea was that trolleybuses should take over the major role in the public transportation. Line to Zemun was opened in 1956, and in time three lines over the bridge were formed: Line 14 – Zeleni Venac-Gornji Grad (Zemun) (which was considered a successor line to the pre-war tram line), Line 15 – Zeleni Venac-Novi Grad (Zemun) and Line 16 – Zeleni Venac-Pohorska, New Belgrade. The lines were closed in 1973.[14] However, as of 2017, over 25 bus lines of public transport crosses the bridge.[15]

[Bicycle elevator on the Old Belgrade bank of Sava river] [Panoramic view from Branko's Bridge]

2010s reconstruction

In the summer of 2013, the left pedestrian and bicycle path began to show signs of deterioration. Soon, the path was completely closed. City government for several years ignored the protests of citizens who wanted for the path to be repaired and open again. The administration claimed that there are no funds in the budget and that it appears the path can't be simply repaired. Instead, the entire left side had to be completely renovated. In the summer of 2015, Mayor of Belgrade Siniša Mali announced that city will fix the problem but the tender was announced in October 2016 and in November the “Mostogradnja” company was chosen.[16]

In the late February 2017 a 210 million dinars (€1.75 million) contract was signed with Mostogradnja. Mali claimed that the study was done in 2014 and that it showed the situation was worse than previously thought.[17] However, only in June 2017, Mali announced “preparatory works”. Deadline was set at 260 days since the beginning of the “proper” works.[18] The repair began in early July 2017, four years after the path was closed, and the deadline was shortened to 180 days, but the mayor then shortened it even more, saying it will be finished by October or November 2017.[19]

Mali also announced that three shifts will be organized. Still in August, a month later, it was obvious that not much was happening on the bridge. Mali said that the city displaced the permit, but after the criticism, reconstruction was fastened. Mali announced new deadline, end of 2017, but few days later again changed it to 2–2,5 months. Despite the speedup, by October it was obvious that the bridge will not be finished by the end of the year. That same month, city manager Goran Vesić announced that the bridge will be completely finished by the end of March 2018, or the originally planned 9 months.[20] In the end, all lanes were open on 9 February 2018,[21] and, after five years, the works were fully finished and the pedestrian and bicycle path was open on 31 May 2018.[22]

Characteristics

The decorative elements by Nikolay Krasnov on the remaining pylons from the King Alexander's Bridge survived both bombings, but were removed in the 1960s by the new authorities.[23] In June 2020 it was announced that the decorative coats of arms will be recreated on the pylons.[24]

The bridge gained an infamous reputation as the suicide bridge. Some 40 people try to commit suicide jumping of the Branko's Bridge every year.[25]

House of Architecture

In the late 2010s, city administration announced plans for the Spanish House building, which is located almost under the bridge on the old Belgrade side, to be adapted into the House of Architecture. In 2019 the building was returned to its pre-World War II owners in the restitution process, so the city decided to use the massive pylon of the bridge instead. Inside the pylon, there is room for an exhibition space and artistic workshops on of space, on two levels.[26]

Police garage

Under the New Belgrade side of the bridge, there is an open air garage for the vehicles of the Ministry of the Interior. The parking lot covers an area of and is mostly used for the overused vehicles. In September 2019 it was announced that the area will be adapted into the Museum of the automobiles and the Museum of the Ministry of the Interior. Museum of the automobiles is currently located in downtown Belgrade, in the Majke Jevrosime Street, but the building in which it is located will be returned to the pre-World War II owners in the process of the Restitution.[27]

The larger area will allow for more than 50 cars to be exhibited, which is the number at the present museum. As the streets and paths in the neighboring Ušće neighborhood have been used for the rally races, they can be used also for the revue races organized by the museum. The new garage will be owned jointly by the city and the state. It is still not known whether the present garage embedded under the bridge will be just adapted or completely demolished and some other object will be built instead.[28]

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[21] {{ cite news | author = Dejan Aleksić | title = Од вечерас проходне све траке на Бранковом мосту | trans-title = All lanes on Branko's Bridge will be open tonight | newspaper = Politika | page = 14 | language = sr | date = 9 February 2018 }}

[22] {{ cite news | author = Dejan Aleksić | title = Posle pet godina cela pešačka staza prohodna | trans-title = After five years, the entire pedestrian path is operational | newspaper = Politika | language = sr | date = 1 June 2018 | url = http://www.politika.rs/sr/clanak/404765/Posle-pet-godina-cela-pesacka-staza-prohodna }}

[23]

[24]

[25]

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[27]

[28]

title: Branko's Bridge

question: What does the article say about the naming and history of Branko's Bridge?

answer: The bridge had many names over time and had to be rebuilt after the Second World War in 1956. It was called the King Alexander Bridge before its destruction in 1941, and the new one was built on top of the old foundations by the German MAN company. The extension that doubled its capacity was handled by the Belgrade-based "Mostprojeckt" company in 1970. Until 1973, many tram lines crossed the bridge. As of 2017, more than 25 bus lines cross it. The bridge connects the city center with New Belgrade across the Sava river. During the communist rule, it was called the "Brotherhood and unity bridge" ("Most bratstva i jedinstva"), but the citizens called it "Savski most" (Sava bridge), "Zemunski most" (Zemun bridge), or the "bridge in Branko's street" since it's an extension of the Brankova street. Eventually, the name "Brankov most" (Branko's bridge) became the norm. The official name is "Bridge across Sava in extension of Brankova Street".

question: What does the article say about communist naming schemes?


text:
It was never about the idea of you, it was you. I never wanted a relationship, I told myself there was no way I'd ever consider marriage again before we met. But between all of the little things, the big things, the things others may never even notice...every single part that makes you who you are...I fell for it all.

Within 2 weeks i was in a cloud of feelings I had never remotely felt, I wasn't scared I wanted more..i wanted to feel how you made me feel everyday. The first year or so I had to downplay my feelings and thoughts, you couldn't know how I really felt. I was worried I would scare you away, I had to lie to myself and convince myself I could care less.

I tried to shield and detach myself from developing feelings for liam because he wasn't my child. I tried to protect myself in case something like all of this ever happened by lying myself and not being who I truly wanted to be. It didn't last long, within a few months I found myself thinking about little things he did and thinking of something cute he said to me or did referring to me as mac. I felt like I was a superhero.

Not being able to have children and not having much experience i was always deathly afraid to as much as hold a baby. I had always viewed myself as a broken misfit toy, no real grown self respecting women could ever desire to be with me for an extended period of time. I was someone maybe you would have a little fun with but never even tell your friends about let alone introduce to your parents. Of course I never thought a responsible mother would want me to be a part of raising a child, and even if she did odds are I would find a way for it to all to go terribly, things Kobra usually does.

So when all of these things occurred, and i was someone you could be proud to show off. Or watch your children, help raise them..I was on cloud nine. This was it, she is the one...I am going to get that white picket fence and family I've always secretly desired more than anything.

My life and overall outlook on life has always been unorthodox, but ultimately when I had dreams of what I wanted my future to be..it was living in a little 3 bedroom house with a white picket fence. Nothing too fancy but in a quite neighborhood. Having a loving household and above all finding this vague undefined blur that was my dream girl.

I never really had any types or ideal looks of who I desired, all I knew is I wanted it to be someone that was worthy of all the love I had to give, someone sarcastic enough to confuse me regularly with jokes. Someone who had the drive to become the best version themself, to become successful in life, someone that looked at me and it was like the world stopped and began to revolve around us.

There I was having found this person, who was almost a mythical figure..progressing in our lives together..ups and downs...a myriad of tiny microscopic moments...each being the best moment in my life...over and over. Each day with her is the best day of my life….over and over. I became spoiled almost, I had stockpiled a million glances of your beautiful eyes staring into my soul...small memories that seem like almost nothing in the moment. I became spoiled...i took those for granted. I just assumed we would live happily ever after no matter what. How could we not...time passes..stress builds...money is tight...spirits are low.

The millions of microscopic moments begin to be more spread out...I still don't notice. I'm still in a fog, a feeling of invincibility that I have acquired being with you also doubles as numbness and tunnel vision.

And here we are...would I rather things had went more like the storybook it began as...yes. I have no idea what the rest of our story entails, but one thing I know with all my heart...this isn't the way the story ends. And maybe one day our lives can become the wonderful picturesque illustration I had always dreamed about. I can only hope by reading this you begin to understand that we are meant to write the rest of the pages to this story together…..

To be continued

Love,
Kobra

(She reads reddit religiously so I'm hoping she sees this...I can only hope. I have always enjoyed writing but it has always been lyrics mostly. In no way do I feel I'm a competent writer I just enjoy putting my thoughts and feelings out for people to see. I hope you enjoy! PS kobra was an inside joke between us that I referred to myself in the third person haha)

title: [RO] Incomplete: A Modern Love Story by Kobra

question: What does the text say about the woman the narrator loves?

answer: The narrator is totally in love with the woman and sees her as someone with the drive to be the best version of herself and to become successful in life. She has a child from a previous relationship named Liam. We are also told she reads Reddit religiously.

question: What does the text say about the narrator?

answer: Prior to meeting the woman, the narrator never wanted a relationship and seemed to consider himself unlovable. We are told that he was married before meeting the woman, and he is also unable to have kids. When he met the woman, he felt things he had never felt before and wanted to feel that way everyday. We are also told that while the narrator has always had an unorthodox view on life, he dreams of living in a little 3 bedroom house with a white picket fence with the woman.

question: What does the text say about the narrator's family?


text:
Before he surfaced in Colorado, Richard Holzer posted a Facebook video of himself urinating on a California synagogue, drawing the attention of law enforcement.

Last updated on November 5, 2019, at 5:52 p.m. ET

Posted on November 5, 2019, at 5:36 p.m. ET

The 27-year-old white supremacist charged with a federal hate crime for allegedly plotting to bomb a Colorado synagogue had been known to law enforcement for years due to his frequent, neo-Nazi postings on Facebook, including a video of himself urinating on a California temple.

Federal authorities arrested Richard Holzer on Friday after he met with undercover FBI agents believing he would obtain explosives to bomb the Temple Emanuel Synagogue in the southern Colorado city of Pueblo. According to court documents, the suspect called the plan his “mountain” and referred to Jews and the synagogue as a “cancer."

At a press conference Monday, authorities detailed how Holzer repeatedly expressed his hatred of Jews and, using multiple Facebook accounts, posted pictures of himself in neo-Nazi garb and blatantly advocated for racially motivated violence.

In a blog post on Tuesday, the Anti-Defamation League reported that its Center on Extremism had been aware of Holzer's online activities for years and had "shared information with law enforcement on several occasions ... citing concerns he might be dangerous."

Holzer lived with his parents in several cities in Ventura County, California, most recently a mobile home park in Oxnard, according to public records, before surfacing in Colorado sometime in 2017, Scott Levin, the ADL's Mountain States director, told BuzzFeed News.

Holzer's parents and family members did not respond to calls or emails.

In May 2016, Holzer, using the alias Rikard Buschmaan, "posted Facebook videos of himself marching around Port Hueneme and Oxnard, California, wearing black military-styled fatigues adorned with a mixture of Klan and neo-Nazi pins and patches," the ADL said and wrote about wanting to kill his enemies. In March 2018, Holzer recorded a video of himself urinating on the door of Chabad of Thousand Oaks and then posted it on Facebook, drawing the attention of the Ventura County Sheriff's Office.

"Detectives called me because he's an idiot who posts everything he does online and they called me, thank God, and said that they looked into him," Rabbi Chaim Bryski told BuzzFeed News.

"Detectives said that he was a known white supremacist but that he left, that he's not dangerous," the rabbi said. "It's really good news that they got him."

In an email sent earlier this year to Bryski and reviewed by BuzzFeed News, a detective with the Ventura County Sheriff's Office described Holzer as "a known white supremacist who used to reside in our county and has been associated with white supremacists groups in the past which are no longer operating."

Jeff Miller, the Ventura County Sheriff's detective who investigated the Chabad incident, told BuzzFeed News he saw the video, which had been posted in January in2018 but recorded earlier, and tracked Holzer to Colorado. Authorities, however, never apprehended him.

"We were actually never able to locate him out there because he was living as a transient," the detective said. "We had a search warrant report number, but there was never a police report."

The ADL also said Holzer had been associated with the white supremacist movement for a long time, allegedly linking up with other well-known racists and skinheads like Jacob Laskey, who was sentenced to 11 years in prison for throwing rocks etched with swastikas into an Oregon synagogue during services in 2002.

In June 2017, the ADL reported that Holzer had participated in an anti-Muslim march alongside members of the Traditionalist Worker Party. In October of the next year, he posted videos of himself handing out "White Lives Matter" stickers in Pueblo.

In one Facebook photo, Holzer claimed to be 17 years old and a prospect of the National Socialist Movement, one of the largest neo-Nazi groups in the US.

"A lot of these guys are inspired by one another and find one another due to the accessibility of information online," Levin, of the ADL, said. "They're able to connect to each other much faster."

A Facebook spokesperson said it was working on gathering information about when Holzer's accounts were flagged and if they had been removed.

Last week, Bryski attended a lecture at a sister Chabad featuring a former neo-Nazi who had "turned his life around."

"I hope that this catching of Richard will also help him change over," the rabbi said. "There's hope that with this police work catching these guys before they do something, that these people find a different way."

-   [Picture of Brianna Sacks]

question: Who is Richard Holzer?

answer: A 27-year-old white supremacist.

question: Why was Richard arrested?

answer: He was arrested for plotting to bomb a Colorado synagogue.

question: Summarize some of Richard's activity prior to the arrest.

answer: He posted a Facebook video of himself urinating on a California temple. He also posted videos of himself marching around Port Hueneme and Oxnard in black military-styled fatigues adorned with Klan and neo-Nazi pins and patches. He participated in an anti-Muslim march in June 2017, and posted videos of himself handing out "White Lives Matter" stickers in Octover 2018.

question: When will Richard's trial occur?

answer: The article doesn't mention a trial.

question: When was this article posted?

answer: November 5, 2019

question: Write a ~4 sentence summary.

answer: Richard Holzer, a 27-year-old white supremecist, was arrested for plotting to bomb a Colorado synagogue. Richard has a history of posting videos in which he sports Klan and neo-Nazi paraphernalia. Prior to his arrest, he posted a video of himself urinating on a California temple. Rabbi Chaim Bryski hopes that Richard will be able to turn his life around.


text:
Minute by minute the time passes. All I can do is hold tight to my rifle and wait. Wait for the sound. For the signal. The go ahead. A single ping, that's all I need, then I'm cleared for egress.

Egress. Leaving a place. The act of doing so.

All there are right now are words.

The armor is getting uncomfortable. Biting into me in awkward places, pressed tight to my form because I'm packed in a metal air vent. My mouth still tastes like metal and the iron stink of blood is all I can smell. It was never supposed to happen like this. Never, never ever.

I remember snippets.

I remember being a child. I remember being taken from my home. My mother and father were killed. It was terrible. It was the worst possible thing that could have happened. I was so scared, so terrified, so alone except for the strong arms of the woman who took me away from them. Women.

It's always women. There are no male Operatives.

Males don't take to the genomodding like females do.

Then I remember her face, the woman who took me. Knife, is her name. Knife Violet. A noun and a color, it's how they name us. A noun a color and a serial number. Knife Violet, seven foot three inches tall, two hundred seventy one pounds naked, serial number 3356Z33Z5C. The woman who ended my life before it had even began.

Her face, cold and empty and impassive. Nothing behind her eyes. Not a shred of morality or regret, no guilt.

I envy Violet.

She's free. Free of thoughts. Free of pain. Free of everything that I am currently burdened by. She is truly what I wish I was. A tool to be used, not a thing with free will and a broken mind and twisted notions of justice.

Then the woman, the Commander. Oh, Commander. My Commander. The softeness of her skin. Her cheekbones, her soft green eyes, the way her lips looked when she smiled that cruel smile of hers. I remember her next, yes. She wasn't informed until after she was brought in how us 'Operatives' are gathered.

When she was informed, she was almost executed. She almost rebelled. Then something stopped her.

Next memory, a scrap, a flash. Seven years old. Taken on an operation. They had used me to kill a dozen people. Terrorists making bombs, hitting schools. One of the operations I feel no guilt for, that one is. Those people, regardless of their ideals, were going to attack civilians for the sins of the government. Sins of an interstellar multi-planet government alliance.

After the killing, she took me to the park. She got me ice cream. She said no one could ever know what she was doing with me. Oh Commander, why? Why would you torture me? How does this serve the lord our god?

It doesn't, she answered. God isn't real. It's just a layer of control. A layer of control laid down on you, wrapped around you.

She held me while I cried.

I'd never killed before.

She pressed an injection gun against my neck after I calmed down and said she was sorry, she sobbed her apology.

Click. Hiss.

Drugs in my blood. The last hour and a half gone from my head, for the most part. Except for scraps. Blurry flashes. I shouldn't even remember that much but my brain is different in ways they didn't realize. The drugs don't work right on me.

Commander...

I remember.

Eighteen years old, a scrap there. A gunshot wound on my arm, minor. Just a cut really, a deep one. We had to hide a while, wait for pursuit to stop. We tucked ourselves in a tiny cement maintenance room off of a subway tunnel, planted intellimines and waited. While there, she cleaned the wound and sutured it.

Commander, age: 31, height of six feet three inches, weight unimportant, serial number... I can't... I can't remember. I can't remember.

But I remember I kissed her.

I remember it wasn't the first time I'd kissed her, but I also remember that while I knew I had kissed her before, I couldn't remember the kisses. I had been wiped so many times to protect her, to protect myself.

We made love, in that cold cement room. I gave the big middle finger to god, to their ideas, to their tortures and I kissed her like it was the end of the world. I felt her moving on me. I don't remember what her lips tasted like, what she tasted like far lower than that. I don't remember how warm her body was. I remember red, red hair just like mine. A shock of it on her groin and the close cropped stuff on her head.

I remember her sobbing when we were done.

I don't want to make you forget again, Red.

Red, that's me. Mercy Red.

Age... twenty. Twenty years old. Height, five foot one inch tall - the smallest of all the genomodded operatives. Weight, one hundred ninety nine pounds naked, thank you, muscle density. Serial number... 6604B22B63I.

Numbers are important. I can remember numbers. I remember her birthday. I remember the date we first made love. I remember the date when my lips first touched hers but it's all... it's all numbers! It's all fucking numbers! I can't feel it in my head! I can't! They made her take it from me! Take it all!

So I raised the injection gun to my own neck and smiled at her, holding back tears.

I love you Commander.

Click.

Hiss.

Torture.

She did it because the second one of us tried to leave our little secret army, the government would know something was up. She was trying to protect me. I willingly allowed her to erase herself from my mind to protect her.

Now, in this air vent, I wait. I wait and I stare at this picture of her. She is in a bed, her bed, a bed I don't remember sharing with her once. When she set up the camera I don't know. But there is my tiny form against her, my shaggy red hair a god damn mess, and there she is. There she is, from head to toe. Exposed, vulnerable. I am asleep, she is awake. Her eyes, her soft green eyes, catch the moonlight coming in slats through the blinds and god, she's the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life. I don't remember loving her, but I know I do. I know I love her so much.

But as I stare at the picture, I realize it's all faded. The emotions. It's like a dull ache in my gut, all the time. A splinter in my mind.

I remember... oh god, the last memory I have of her is one that wasn't erased. Blood. Blood on her face. A clean hole in her temple. She said to me before I went, before I ran, right before the gunshot rang out and I turned for just a second to see her limp body falling...

Kill them all, Red. Kill them all for me. I love you so much. I'm so sorry.

Kill them all.

Now the ping, in the speaker of my helmet. I flick a switch and the muscular enhancement systems of my armor go live. This is the end game. My final move. The queen scraping across and empty board and their king can't run, he's backed into a corner, my pieces on all sides. Play chess with me, oh you bastard people. Play a game with me, with my life, with my commander!

I slip from the vent and my rifle comes up.

Click, click, click.

I used to hate killing. I'd cry.

Now it's just downright pleasurable. I'll kill whoever I want, whenever I want.

The bullets fly, but my armor is dumping so many chemicals into my blood that time is moving real slow around me... or, I'm moving real fast. It's what they made us for. Us few, proud, brave. The Temporal Distortion Field Manipulation Suit does all the work, but my body was custom tailored to survive the processes. Built since I was a child into this thing, this weapon.

A dozen men fall in under two seconds and I move on, stalking down the hallway. The bridge of the ship, nestled in the middle, explodes behind me. The ping was the three second marker. Everything has to be perfect. The synchronization has to be flawless.

The blast doors are dropping on a special part of the ship. A secondary, eject capable bridge on the underside of the massive Eden class super carrier Dream. I force myself to run so fast my muscles begin to tear under the strain but it's irrelevant. I will heal. I always heal. My ass hits the ground hard and in a shower of sparks I slide. I fire another two dozen rounds from my magnetic accelerator rifle. Blood is in the air. I've accelerated to such a speed that as I plant a foot and slam my arms back, I can see the drops of red almost suspended in air as I rise, leaving deep dents in the metal floor.

The rifle is cast aside. Pistols come out, cameras on each. Seventy men, seventy men in the secondary bridge. Soldiers. They were expecting an attack. Forty rounds in each pistol.

Perfect.

Cameras on the end of each one go live. My vision switches over to those cameras, my synthetic metal replacement eyes going dark. They can't even get their guns up before I'm turning in a circle, aiming in both directions.

Commander.

Oh Commander.

My Commander.

They're dead. I don't even care. I march to the five men, the emergency pilots, and I draw the blade from my back, and I behead each of them before they can scream.
While their corpses fall, I throw the blade aside and the blast doors seal me in.

An Eden class super carrier.

Dream.

The primary military carrier, holding more than five hundred thousand people, crew and soldiers. A floating fortress.

Coordinates are set.

I hesitate.

I could join you, Commander. I could join you where we could forever be together.

But you want me to live.

I shall live.

Ejection.

Clamps release. Auto-bolts unscrew. Emergency explosives detonate. I am sailing away into space, the engines going hot, moving me into auto-orbit. I watch then, on the monitors connected to the external cameras.

All engines are going full power on the carrier. It accelerates slowly, breaks the atmosphere.

I prepare to fire its nuclear payload.

Enjoy your nuclear winter, Generals...

"Let this be a message," I whisper into a microphone, broadcasting to anyone on the planet who might listen. It will be relayed to other planets. "I am coming for you, those who made me, who took my Commander from me. Escape if you can, but  I will find you. My name is Mercy, and I'm afraid... I can't remember the meaning of my name."

title: My Name Is Mercy

question: What does the story say about the qualities that make a good pilot?

question: Summarize the primary source of tension in the story.

answer: The primary source of tension is the hatred Mercy Red feels for the people behind the killing of her parents and her kidnapping when she was just a child. She hates them for taking her life away before it even began. She hates them for genomodding her to become a killing machine for their operations. Mercy hates the fact that her memory is wiped after every mission, but the drugs used to do it work differently on her and she remembers things. And most of all, she hates them for killing her Commander and lover, a woman she loved since training as a young child to be an Operative. Mercy hates the Generals that made her, and she wants revenge.

question: Describe the setting of the story.

answer: The story is set in the future where humans have built supercarriers (spaceships) capable of interstellar travel and nuclear annihilation. In this future, humans are also capable of making a new breed of super soldiers or "Operatives", which was secretly created by the Generals for assassinations and mass killings. These Operatives are illegally sourced by kidnapping young girls and eliminating their families. The Operatives were always female because males don't take to the genomodding process as females do.

question: What does the story say about Mercy Red?

answer: Mercy Red is the story's main character. She got her second name because her hair is red. She is a genetically-enhanced female, made to become a lethal weapon and killing machine. Mercy was kidnapped as a child and her parents murdered by a secret army led by a Commander, under orders from the Generals and the government. She underwent the genomodding process as a child so that her body could be custom-tailored to survive wearing the Temporal Distortion Field Manipulation Suit all Operatives wear. As a result of the gene modifications, Mercy is only 5'1" tall, but 199 pounds of pure muscle. The field suit dumps chemicals into her body during combat, which makes her stronger, faster, and more lethal than any soldier. Mercy's suit also allows her to take an enormous amount of damage and heal quickly - making her the perfect human weapon. The only flaw with Mercy is that her brain is different from the other Operatives because every time she receives drugs to wipe her memory (after each mission), scraps remain and she remembers things. She became a weapon burdened by free will, pain, and memories of her past. Her mind was broken due to the frequent use of memory wiping drugs. Although her Commander practically raised Mercy and was 13 years older than her, they became lovers. Mercy loved her Commander and went rogue when the government killed her. She's angry at the Generals for killing her Commander and plans to kill everyone behind the secret army of female super-soldiers.


text:
[Two kinds of Iranian sharbat (center is lemon and right is cherry sharbat) along with Iranian tea (left)] SHARBAT (Persian: شربت; also transliterated as shorbot, şerbet or sherbet ) is an Iranian[1][2][3] drink also popular in Turkey, South Asia, Caucasus and the Balkans. It is prepared from fruits or flower petals.[4] It is a sweet cordial, and usually served chilled. It can be served in concentrated form and eaten with a spoon or diluted with water to create the drink. Popular sharbats are made of one or more of the following: basil seeds, rose water, fresh rose petals, sandalwood, bael, hibiscus, lemon, orange, mango, pineapple, falsa (_Grewia asiatica_) and chia seeds.

Sharbat is common in Iranian, Turkish, Bosnian, Arab, Afghan, Pakistani, Sri Lankan, Bangladeshi and Indian homes, and are popularly consumed by Muslims when breaking their daily fast during the month of Ramadan.[5]

A South Indian version commonly called 'sarbbath' is popular in Kerala and Tamil Nadu regions of India wherein a specially made syrup of Indian sarsaparilla and lemon is dissolved in milk or soda water.

An Indonesian, especially Javanese, drink called 'serbat' is commonly found during the month of Ramadan. The most popular is made by mixing cold water, simple syrup, and shredded cantaloupe, popularly known as 'serbat blewah' or cantaloupe sherbet.

Etymology

[Rooh Afza sharbat or shorbot drink made from fruits and herbs formulated in 1906 in Ghaziabad, Uttar Pradesh, India, and launched from Old Delhi, India.] The term comes from the Persian word _sharbat_ (شربت),[6] meaning a drink of sugar and water. This in turn came from _shariba_, “to drink”.[7] By the late Middle Ages, the Arabic word _sharāb_ (شراب) had come to mean “alcoholic beverage” and the alternate form sharbāt (شربات) and its Persian and Turkish variations, _sharbat_ (شربت), and _şerbet_ respectively, took on the meaning of a sweet non-alcoholic beverage.[8]

History

It's believed that sharbats originated in Iran (Persia).[9][10][11] Several syrups are listed in the 11th-century _Canon of Medicine_ by Persian writer Ibn Sīnā.[12] In the 12th century, Persian book of Zakhireye Khwarazmshahi, Gorgani describes different types of Sharbats in Iran, including Ghoore, Anar, Sekanjebin, etc.

The first Western mention of sharbat is an Italian reference to something that Turks drink. The word enters Italian as _sorbetto_ which becomes _sorbet_ in French. In the 17th-century, England began importing “sherbet powders” made from dried fruit and flowers mixed with sugar. In the modern era sherbet powder is still popular in the UK. A contemporary English writer traveling in the Middle East wrote of “sundry sherbets … some made of sugar and lemons, some of violets, and the like.” When Europeans figured out how to freeze sherbet they began making _sorbetto_ by adding fruit juices and flavorings to a frozen simple syrup base. In the US sherbet generally meant an ice milk, but recipes from early soda fountain manuals include ingredients like gelatin, beaten egg whites, cream, or milk.[13]

Sharbat was traditionally made with cane juice, but in modern times it is commonly made at home with sugar and water. Lime is sometimes added to improve the texture and flavor of the sharbat.[14] Honey is also commonly used as a sweetener. Sharbet comes in many flavors including lemon, pomegranate, quince, strawberry, cherry, orange, rose, orange blossom, tamarind, mulberry and violet.[15] One sharbat recorded in the 19th-century cookbook by Friedrich Unger is called _gülgülü tiryaki şerbet_ which means “pink opium-eater's sherbet”.[16]

India

Sharbat was introduced to India by the Mughals in the 16th century.[17] It was popularised in the Indian subcontinent by Babur, who sent for frequent loads of ice from the Himalayas to make a cool refreshing drink.[18]

Varieties

[Tamarind and plum sharbat] Tamarind sherbet is a popular non-alcoholic beverage in Muslim countries that is commonly prepared during Ramadan. In Turkey tamarind sherbet, called _demirhindi şerbeti_, might be flavored with cloves, cardamom, fresh ginger, a cinnamon stick, honey, sage and dried linden flowers.[19][20] In Urdu, tamarind is called _imli_ and is commonly paired with dried plums (_aaloo bukhara_).[21]

Almond sherbet is probably of Persian origin[22] and can be spiced with cardamom and kewra.[23] Another version of almond sherbet is made with milk and saffron and musk melon seeds are sometimes added.[24][25]

[Bael ka sharbat] Wood apple sharbat can be flavored with salt, pepper and mentha or simply sugar and lemon juice.[26] Called _bael ka sharbat_ it is one of the most popular beverages in India and was discussed in the 1894 _Agricultural Gazette of New South Wales_.[27][28] Another sharbat variation from India is made with powdered sandalwood (_chandan_) and sugared milk.[29] Phalsa berries are another base for some varieties of south Asian sherbet.[30] Some sour sharbet variations might make use of citrus fruits, tamarind, or _aamla_ berries. An Indian lemonade called _nimbu pani_ is made with fresh squeezed lemon or lime juice with additional flavorings like ginger, mint, saffron, kewra or even crushed black pepper.[31]

Vetiver sherbet (_khus_ syrup) can be made by adding _khus_ essence to sugar and water. The _khus_ essence itself is made from the roots of vetiver grass. Vetiver sherbet can be used as a flavoring for milkshakes, lassi and other yogurt drinks, ice cream, Shirley Temples and other mixed beverages. It can also be used as a general purpose dessert topping.[32][33]

The most common sharbat flavor is probably rose.[34] Rose sharbat can be used as a topping for the milk pudding _muhallebi_. One Turkish method of making rose sharbat involves kneading fresh rose petals with a little citric acid or sugar to release their fragrance. (If sugar is used the petals are left in the fridge overnight and a small amount of lemon juice is added the following day.) This petal mixture is called _gül mayası_ and can be added to a sharbat base of sugar and water to make a rose sharbat topping that can be used to flavor desserts like _muhallebi_, and other cookies and cakes.[35]

Turkey (Ottoman Empire)

[Künefe dessert made from _kadayif_ soaked in _şerbet_ served with Maraş ice cream.] Many Ottoman Muslims did not have a custom of consuming or serving alcoholic beverages, which contributed to the popularity of sherbet during the Middle Ages. Sherbet could take three forms: syrups called _şurup_, pastes called _çevirme_ and tablets. Ottoman confectioners would create concentrated essences out of fresh ingredients that could be diluted to make sherbet. In modern times, sherbet production has declined but in some regions of Turkey syrups are still made. Pastes are rare and can only be found in speciality shops; most commercially available pastes today are limited to bergamot or mastic flavors. Tablets were a specialty item, even during Ottoman Times, made only by confectioner's in professional shops. To make the tablets, fruit juices and essential oils, like rose or cinnamon, were added to boiling sugared water and stirred against the sides of the pan until the sugar began to crystallize. Spices, ground nuts, and herbs might be added to the mixture, which was poured onto a large marble slab and allowed to set.[36]

In the 19th-century Isaac Edrehi wrote about a shopkeep named Mustafa who made two types of beverages called sherbet and khoshâb:[37]

  One of the dainties on the happy mixture of which Hadjy Mustafa prides himself is khoshâb. This beverage, though nearly related to, must not be confounded with, sherbet. The latter is slightly acidulated, and in general made of fresh lemon, quince, orange or cherry juice, or of candied grapes, mulberries, and Damascus plums, squeezed or diluted in cold water, and thus drank at all hours. But the khoshâb (agreeable water) forms the termination of all orthodox dinners, and is composed of preserved fruits or syrups, such as Aidin pomegranates, Mardin plums, Damascus and Bokhara apricots, Rodosto peaches, Scala Nuova cherries, Beybek strawberries, Adrianople roses, tamarinds, and so forth."

The Ottoman writer Evliya Çelebi records that the Merchants of Khoshâb in Ottoman Egypt made khoshâb, which he calls “a kind of sherbet”, from “the juice of the most excellent fruits, such as apricots of Bokhara, plums of Mardin, pears of Azerbaijan, mulberries of Arabguir, grapes of Smyrna, sour cherries (aigriottes) of Rodosto, apples of Koja Ili, prunes of Temesvar, and peaches of Constantinople.” According to this account the _khoshâb_ is flavored with “amber and musk”. He goes on to describe a different group of sherbet-merchants whose shops are decorated with “many thousand cups and bowls of China and Fayence, which are filled with sherbet, made of rhubarb, roses, lemons, lotus, tamarinds and grapes.”[38]

The 15th-century Ottoman poem by Süleyman Çelebi wrote: “As I burned with raging thirst, They handed me a glass of sherbet” describing how the Islamic prophet Muhammad{{'}}s mother was given a glass of sherbet while she was in labor.[39] When a woman in Anatolia gives birth it is still customary to offer a hot sherbet called _lohusa şerbeti_ to guests.[40][41]

Common sharbat flavors include tamarind, pomegranate, black mulberry, sour grape, licorice, morello cherry, rose, honey.[42] One version uses fresh purple wisteria flowers. The petals are soaked in water for a full day and then strained through cheesecloth. The petals are bundled in the cheesecloth and their highly fragranced liquid is also squeezed into the bowl containing the scented water. Sugar is added and the sugared mixture is allowed to rest overnight.[43]

A simple sherbet of lemon, citric acid and water, without additional spices, is called _nişan şerbeti_ or “betrothal sherbet” in Turkish and is traditionally served at engagement ceremonies.[44] Some versions of lemon sherbet may be optionally flavored with honey and cloves.[45] A similar sherbet flavored with cloves and lemon juice can also be made with fresh peaches.[46] Green apple and cinnamon is another possible flavor combination.[47] One recipe for “Ottoman sherbet” calls for sugared sour cherries, dried plums, golden raisins, fresh ginger, cloves, cinnamon sticks to be simmered together.[48]

[1]

[2]

[3]

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[5]

[6]  frozen dessert|website=Encyclopedia Britannica|language=en|access-date=2019-07-23|quote=The word sherbet derives from the Persian sharbat, an iced fruit drink; iced desserts were introduced to the West via the Middle East. In the late 20th century there was a revival of the practice of serving a tart sherbet or sorbet between the courses of an elaborate meal to refresh the palate.}}

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[35]  Kolay Tatlılar| work = www.showtv.com.tr| accessdate = 2018-07-19| url = https://www.showtv.com.tr/yemek-tarifleri/tatlilar/492799-gul-serbetli-su-muhallebisi| archive-url = https://web.archive.org/web/20180719093135/https://www.showtv.com.tr/yemek-tarifleri/tatlilar/492799-gul-serbetli-su-muhallebisi| archive-date = 2018-07-19| url-status = live}}

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[42] Özdoğan, Yahya, and Nermin Işık. “Geleneksel Türk Mutfağında Şerbet.” (2008).

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[48]  Osmanlı Şerbeti Tarifi| accessdate = 2018-07-19| time = 48 seconds| url = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mbJcKzXO5g4| archive-url = https://web.archive.org/web/20180720024941/https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mbJcKzXO5g4| archive-date = 2018-07-20| url-status = live}}

title: Sharbat

question: Summarize the origins and evolutions of sharbat.

answer:
Sharbats were known to have originated in Persia, which is the new Iran. It is still a popular drink in the region... made with ingredients from various fruits or flower petals. Sharbats are also common in Turkey, Bosnia, Afghanistan, and India. These regions have various recipes unique to them as well as different names.

As far back as the 11th and 12th centuries, sharbats are found in books like the Canon of Medicine by Ibn Sina and the Persian book of Zackireye Khwarazmshashi. Sharbats have been adopted into Western countries, morphing into what is called sorbetto in Italian and sorbet in French.

question: Who introduced sharbat to the Western countries?

question: Summarize the different varieties of sharbat?

answer: The sharbat made in Muslim countries are commonly tamarind and plum sharbat, drunk during the Ramadan period. The Almond sharbat originated from Persian and can sometimes contain milk, saffron, and musk melon seeds. One of the most popular sharbat in India is the wood apple sharbat which is made from salt, pepper, mentha (sugar and lemon juice). The rose sharbat is one of the most popular Turkish sharbat. It requires kneading rose petals with citric sugar and a small amount of lemon juice.


text:
[Kōdō Nishimura] is a Japanese Buddhist monk and makeup artist. He is active in both Japan and the United States. He is gay and an advocate for LGBTQ people.

Early life and education

Nishimura was born in 1989 and grew up in Tokyo.[1] His father was a Jodo shu Buddhist priest, and Nishimura was raised in his temple. He studied ikebana for eight years.[2]

After watching _The Princess Diaries_ in junior high school, Nishimura became interested in visiting the United States.[3]

Nishimura briefly struggled with his perception of his own beauty as an Asian man before discovering makeup, which he did not use in Japan because of social stigmas.[4] After graduating from high school, Nishimura moved to the United States and studied at Dean College, where he asked drag queens working at makeup stores questions about what to buy. He then purchased makeup and learned how to use it.[5] He graduated from the Parsons School of Design.

Career

Nishimura began working as a makeup artist when he was 22. He got an internship with a makeup artist that later led to a job.[6] His work was featured in _Nylon_ and _Life & Style_. He also does makeup for beauty queens in Miss Universe contests.[7] In addition, Nishimura spends time teaching transgender women how to apply makeup.[8]

Nishimura came out as gay when he participated in a photo shoot for _Out in Japan_.[9]

When he returned to Japan, Nishimura began to train as a priest.[10] At first, he was hesitant to do so because of his career as a makeup artist. He thought that being a makeup artist might not conform with Buddhist beliefs.[11] After consulting with a mentor, he realized that he could be both a Buddhist priest and a makeup artist as long as his goal was to spread Buddhist beliefs about living in happiness and harmony with others. He was fully ordained in 2015 and serves in his father's temple.[12]

Nishimura splits his time equally between his work as a makeup artist and his work as a priest.

He made an appearance on an episode of _Queer Eye_ in its Queer Eye: We’re in Japan! season.[13]

[1]  Kodo Nishimura Official Site – 西村宏堂 オフィシャルホームページ|website=www.kodonishimura.com|access-date=2019-11-15}}

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title: Kodo Nishimura

question: How did Kōdō discover makeup?

answer: The article doesn't mention the how, but since makeup is everywhere, it's not difficult to discover.

question: Why didn't Kōdō use makeup in Japan?

answer: He was discouraged by social stigmas.

question: Why did Kōdō hesitate to become a monk?

answer: He hesitated because he thought being a makeup artist would conflict with Buddhist beliefs.

question: What is the main goal of a Buddhist monk?

answer: They spread Buddhist beliefs about living in happiness and harmony with others.

question: Write a ~10 sentence summary.

answer: Kōdō Nishimura, born in 1989, grew up in Tokyo. He was raised in his father's temple, who was a Jodo shu Buddhist priest. He got interested in visiting the US after watching The Princess Diaries in junior high school. He moved there after high school and learned how to apply makeup from drag queens at Dean College, something he couldn't do due to social stigmas. He began his work as a makeup artist when he was 22, and his work got featured in Nylon and Life & Style. He does makeup for beauty queens in Miss Universe contests. He came out as gay in a photoshoot in Japan. He got interested in becoming a priest, and his hesitation was dispelled by a mentor who taught him he could be a Buddhist priest as long as he spread the beliefs of living in happiness and harmony with others. He was fully ordained in 2015 in his father's temple. He splits his time equally between being a priest and a makeup artist.


text:
The Bundesliga is finally just a over two weeks away and what better way to kick off the Bundesliga season with the DFL-Supercup.

A new era at FC Bayern, the Carlo Ancelotti era and the Italian will be looking to do something his predecessor Pep Guardiola couldn’t, win the Supercup. During his time at Bayern, Guardiola won every German league and cup competition except the Supercup.

In the 113th Der Klassiker and the fourth Supercup meeting in five years, Bayern Munich will be looking to end their barren run in the competition.

We will only see one debutant on Sunday, Euro 2016 winner Renato Sanches will miss the trip to Signal Iduna Park through injury meaning Mats Hummels will return to Dortmund and will more than likely be greeted by a hostile reception.

Unlike Borussia Dortmund, Bayern Munich have no players at the Olympic games so only injuries affect Ancelotti’s first competitive XI.

We think he will play a 4-3-3 Formation but who will start?

[Daniel Kopatsch/Getty Images Sport]

Next __

Manuel Neuer

Never in any doubt, vice-captain Manuel Neuer will start between the sticks for the Bavarians.

[Jeff Zelevansky/Getty Images Sport]

Previous __ Next __

Philipp Lahm (RB)

Philipp Lahm at right-back may raise a few eyebrows with his time in defensive midfield under Guardiola.

It’s fair to say Ancelotti isn’t as ‘adventurous’ and elects to go old-school with having captain Philipp Lahm at right-back.

[Jonathan Daniel/Getty Images Sport]

Previous __ Next __

Javi Martinez (CB)

With both Jerome Boateng and Holger Badstuber missing through injury, manager Ancelotti will not want to push either centre-backs into a game with such intensity such a short period of time after recovering from injury.

Javi Martinez is the favourite to start as one half of the central defenders.

[Jan Hetfleisch/Getty Images Sport]

Previous __ Next __

Mats Hummels (CB)

Occupying the other centre-back position is the former Yellow and Black himself, Mats Hummels.

The former BVB captain made the move that many Dortmund fans both dreaded and expected.

We hope he gets the response he deserves but on the other hand we hope he is greeted by a hostile crowd which will add extra spice to the match.

Hummels looks set to partner Martinez at centre-back.

[Jeff Zelevansky/Getty Images Sport]

Previous __ Next __

David Alaba (LB)

No question about this position, Alaba has nailed down and cemented the left-back position as his own.

Like Lahm, he was often used at defensive midfield under Pep but Ancelotti looks to have a solid back line.

[Alexander Hassenstein/Getty Images Sport]

Previous __ Next __

Joshua Kimmich (CM)

After stints at right-back and centre-back, we think Ancelotti may omit Xabi Alonso and elect to go for a fresh pair of legs.

It’s fair to say that Guardiola rated Kimmich very high and it looks like Ancelotti rates him pretty high as well.

We haven’t really seen the 21-year-old in his favoured position in the red of Bayern as of yet but it will be intriguing to see if he is given a starting place.

[Grant Halverson/Getty Images Sport]

Previous __ Next __

Arturo Vidal (CM)

Arturo Vidal is one of the few midfielders Ancelotti has to use at the minute with new-signing Renato Sanches is currently injured.

Vidal impressed in his debut season at the Allianz, bagging himself a couple of goals during the course of the season.

If starting in the centre of the park, the Chilean may look to get himself on the scoresheet.

[Jeff Zelevansky/Getty Images Sport]

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Thiago (CM)

With Xabi Alonso’s position possibly being taken by Kimmich and the only other midfielders are those promoted from Bayern’s reserves, Thiago Alcantara seems the most likely option to complete the midfield three.

[Alexander Hassenstein/Getty Images Sport]

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Thomas Müller (RW)

Thomas Müller may pip Kingsley Coman to the right-wing position. Even though his favoured position is as a supporting striker, he may not fit into Carlo’s formation and so the only way the three-time Champions League winner can fit the German international in is by putting him at right-wing.

Arjen Robben won’t feature because of an injury he picked up in pre season, so Müller is a strong contender to play wide.

[Jonathan Daniel/Getty Images Sport]

Previous __ Next __

Franck Ribery (LW)

With the only other wide option being Douglas Costa, Franck Ribery looks likely to start on the left.

This decision isn’t silly move either, the Frenchman has found the form in pre season that made him one of hottest attackers and it seems like he’s shaken off the cobwebs following lengthy spells on the sidelines.

Ribery looks almost certain to start and will be a big threat.

[Alex Livesey/Getty Images Sport]

Previous __ Next __

Robert Lewandowski (ST)

With Bayern only have one recognised striker, there’s no surprise and no question that Robert Lewandowski will start upfront.

Despite Green’s first half hat trick in pre season, it won’t be enough to warrant him a starting place.

Here's more you might like

 1/12 slides

question: What are the names of players listed in the article?

answer: Manuel Neuer, Philipp Lahm, Javi Martinez, Mats Hummels, David Alaba, Joshua Kimmich, Arturo Vidal, Thiago, Thomas Müller, Franck Ribery, Robert Lewandowski.


text:
“Dear friends and colleagues, I know, that you know, that we all know, that the main attraction of this symposium is to brag about our greatest and weirdest nutjobs. We’ve all heard Dr. Johnson talk about this woman, who believed she was a glass of jam, over a coffee, or Prof. Miller explain how a suicidal man couldn’t hang himself because his extreme fear of height.”

Some people in the room started laughing, while most just nodded in agreement. Some murmuring came up around Johnson and Miller, and as soon as everything went silent again, the man at the stand continued.

“This place here in front of all of you is usually reserved for someone talking about new developments in diagnostics and therapies. But in my case, the patient himself was so intertwined with the disease, that I can’t get around him.”
Dramatic pause
“Please meet mister Theo Bog!”

As soon as these words were said, a picture was projected on the giant screen behind the presenter. it was a portrait shot of a man in his mid-forties. A long beard, fuzzy hair, thick eyebrows and an awkward smile looked aimlessly into the audience. Even though his eyes were dampened, maybe because of a cataract, it felt as if they had seen a lot and had a shine of knowledge.

“This man came to me by himself. He didn’t have any money, nor an insurance. He claimed, that he needed help, because he would soon fall back into his old god complex. When I asked him, why he couldn’t go back to his old therapist, he told me that it was because Ernest Jones was dead.”

Unruly whispers arose among the doctors and professors.

“As most of you certainly know, Mr. Jones was a good friend of Sigmund Freud and one of the first practitioners of psychoanalysis. As such he was active until a few months before his death in 1958.
Theo Bog, a man who is 35 years old in the year 2017, claims to have been cured of a god complex by it’s inventor, who has long since been dead.

Of course it isn’t that unusual for somebody to believe to be a historically important figure or to just believe to have met with someone who has been dead for a long time. And during our sessions he told me about his therapy.
He explained me, how he had thought to have been god, and how mister Jones helped him by argumentatively disproving such a higher, all-knowing being. The problem was, that he started to forget these arguments and as such started to fall back into believing to be god.

The first thing I tried, was to make clear that he couldn’t have met with Mr. Jones. But this turned out to be impossible, as Bog obviously had done thorough research. He knew a lot of odds and quirks about his first therapist. I even let him meet with an old Student of Jones, but this was only counterproductive, as they ended up agreeing that they both had known the same man.”

What followed could best be described as a giant collective facepalm. The reasons behind it were different though. Some thought, that this unexpected outcome was a worst case, rendering poor Theo unstoppable in his belief, while others were shocked that somebody would let a psychologically critical case meet up with a former student who must be in his 90ies by now.

One man in the audience stood up. It was Dr. Johnson. He made eye contact with the man at the microphone and, as soon as the room was calm enough for him to speak, he asked a question: “Dr. Parthrow, you yourself implied before, that you’re here to tell us about a new development. Would you please come to the point?”

A aly grin hushed over the presenters face, then he continued: “Of course, of course. Now that I’ve presented you with my case, I’ll show you the solution I’ve found. I’m particularly proud of it because of its simplicity.
I went online. I searched for a polite, atheistic community, and signed him up there. It’s absolutely amazing, how easily people can be swayed. It took Theo two days to go back to a normal life, and one month later he already had a job.

What do we learn from this? Sometimes absurd and weird ways solutions are really easy. While I don’t know if the same therapy would have worked with any other patient, I’m confident, that this story will help you find new ways to cure illnesses. With this I’m finished. Are there any questions?”

-

Several years later a young and dynamic Theo left the office building. He looked like thirty now, though he knew that he was about ten years older. Thanks to the internet actually, he knew everything.

title: [MF] The Patient

question: Who is Theo Bog?

answer: Theo Bog is the patient of Dr. Parthrow. Theo claims to have a recurring god complex that was once cured by Dr. Jones, a close colleague of Sigmund Freud, however this should be impossible since Theo is only 35 in 2017. Theo asks Dr Parthrow to cure him again, and ends up leading a normal life. It is clear that the internet has taught him everything he knows including what he knew about Dr Jones.

question: What does the story say about the practice of psychology?

answer: The doctors seem to derive entertainment from people who are disturbed. They laugh at a suicidal man who was afraid of heights and a woman who thought she was a jar of jam. There is an element of 'freak show' that the story suggests is simply a part of the culture. The story suggests that psychologists don't have much respect for their patients.

question: Does Theo's God complex actually exist?

question: What is the main conflict in this story?

answer: The fact that Dr Parthrow has to find a solution to convincing Theo that he is not God. Theo is in fact a 35 year old man and convincing him of this is the main point of Dr Parthrow's story. Finding the solution to the problem leads to some trial and error and that makes up the bulk of the conflict.


text:
The houses that lined the road all looked the same; the only thing distinguishing one house from the other was the occasional change of colour, but as he continued further down the street, Tyler noticed he would pass a house that was the same colour as one he had passed previously, causing him to temporarily doubt the direction he was heading. Maybe two pitchers was enough, he thought as he staggered over to side of the road when he realized he was stumbling straight down the middle of it.

He was drinking and playing pool at a bar downtown when his friend Sam messaged him and asked him over for a few drinks and a few hands of poker; “Maggie's brought over a few friends. And Mike and Kevin are here,” he had said. Sam had just moved into a new house and he wanted Tyler to see it. Apparently it was a good set-up; he had a number of expensive new luxuries that living in an apartment couldn't offer. In his basement he told Tyler that he had a full bar set-up, a pool table, a large eight-man poker table, and two fifty-two inch flat-screens; one TV was mounted to a wall near the pool table, the other near the poker table. He called it his man cave but Tyler said 'lair' was probably the more suitable word. With the addition of Maggie's friends how could he say no? At the time, he was in one of the grimiest bars in the city playing pool. The place was filled with what seemed to be construction workers or other contractor types who had all apparently just gotten off for the day, leaving a stale odor of sweat and concrete dust and spilled beer flowing about the humid room.

Tyler pulled his phone from his pocket to read the message again to see if he got the address right: 118 Randolf Drive, the message read. He tried to recall the name of the sign he read when he first got off the bus; he was sure it was Randolf, well, somewhat sure at least. There was an R in the beginning of the name, and that was all he could he could visibly recall in his memory for certain. The rest of the sign he saw in his mind looked blurry and difficult to make out, it was like looking through frosted glass on a stark winter night. Looking back down the street he wondered if he should go back and read the sign again but then it occurred to him that he could check the number of the houses around him and get a vague idea if he was in the right spot.

There was a dark-red house immediately to his right, he jogged up to the door-step to check the number. The number on the house was: 94. Maybe he did have the right street. He walked down to the next house to see which way the numbers progressed, that house's number was: 96. Tyler walked down the stairs, exiting the driveway and continued down the street.

While he was walking he remained close to the sidewalk and became more conscious of where he was walking. He was looking at the houses as he passed but his head would drift downward when he started to feel he was staggering slightly. He heard a car behind him and moved closer to the road, he looked at it as it passed and saw it was a green hatchback, he heard a  snap!, of thunder over-head and his head jerked straight forward, startled by the sound. A  few moments later, a jolt!, of lightning followed and then came the rain. Down it poured. Each rain drop was so big that it brought new meaning to the the phrase; 'it's coming down in buckets!'. It was a flash-storm better reserved for the likes of a bad movie. The kind that looked so fake that you were sure there was a full hose and sprinkler set up just out of view from the camera.

He must have been startled and tripped when the thunder initially struck. He found that he was laying half-way from the middle to the side of the road. Which was now a slick-shimmering black with the succession of rain that was beating down onto it. Puddles already began to pool and where there wasn't a deep enough dip in the road for the rain to gather, the water slithered around the pavement like a snake until it found larger bodies it could join and pool there.

The rain felt strange; it felt warm. Unlike any other rain he had felt before. A few years ago he went down to Jamaica with a few friends; it rained, and it was warm, but it was a different kind of warm. This warmth was almost not even warm at all, it was almost like little drops of numbness leaking over your face.

Another crack of thunder and then a few moments he saw a flash of lightning. The lightning was close, chillingly close. It looked like it could have it someplace in Sam's subdivision. Best get out of here, Tyler thought as he walked down the street. Of course he knew that lightning never strikes the same place twice, well, almost never, he still had to get the hell out of there, if not for the fear of lightning then for the mess of the rain. It was coming down hard and he knew if he soaked up too much rain he'd track it all over Sam's new place. When he started off down the street, he didn't notice the limp body laying where he had been prior to standing.

Again, a crack of thunder, but this time he continued on without the stop of shock and surprise. He estimated that he should have house number; 104 on his right, and house number; 103 or 105 on his left.

There was another crack of thunder and Tyler raised his forearm up as a shield from the rain so he could get a good view at the lightning that was about to strike. When his forearm reached his forehead noticed something: his jacket was dry. Dry as a bone.

“What the?” He said aloud as he brought both his arms to his waist, extending both forearms so he could investigate further. Dry as a bone. His eyes darted over his clothing; his body twisted left, then right, looking all over, trying to take everything in, still, everything attached to him remained dry. From head to toe, he couldn't find a drop that had soaked into his clothing. To be frank, he wasn't completely sure if the rain was hitting him or not. He felt it, that was for sure, but as he looked closer at his forearm it seemed as if it merely fell through him, like water through a mesh-umbrella. For some reason, he was reminded of the original Star Wars movie and the moment when R2 D2 brings message from Leia to Luke. His right arm came crashing down onto his left in an attempt to see if he was a hologram, or worse, a ghost. When his hand smacked his forearm it stung a little.

Thunder roared over-head; Tyler barely noticed. Right now, he was lost.

There was a tight screech of tires, not lasting very long as the car wasn't going too fast in a subdivision, then three quick honks sounded. The noise came from behind him and he turned around to find out what the cause was. The rain was thick and it was hard to see, he had to squint a little but he was sure he did in fact see what he thought he saw. There was a dark coloured SUV that had slid slightly sideways on the slick-wet road when it came to a halt, but the SUV wasn't the point of interest. What caught Tyler's eye was what lay in the beam of the headlights. He was sure that was a body.

The driver's side door clicked open and Tyler saw a woman get out of the car. She threw up her hood to try to protect her hair from the rain but the hood didn't quite cover her head properly and before she would get a chance to fix it, both of her hands jumped to her mouth to clasp it shut to hide a scream. There was a body laying on the ground, almost in the fetal position and bits of the clothing appeared to be charred. The woman bent down to check on the body. Tyler saw her hand touch the shoulder of the downed figure, nudging it slightly, the way a hunter will with the butt of the gun to a downed animal. The motion caused the body to tumble onto it's back, leaving the figure in full view of the woman, and against her initial efforts, she screamed.

Tyler was running toward her now, wanting to offer help.

“Hey!” he shouted, “call nine-one-one!”

The woman didn't hear him or didn't bother taking note. Tyler guessed she was in shock so he shouted again, this time louder and this time he was a lot closer. He was no more then twenty feet away and he could  now make out the woman's face. She didn't respond and now she was heading back toward her car, probably for her cell-phone.

Tyler was at the driver's side door when he said anything again. Still no answer, the woman was busy fumbling with her phone. Her hands were dripping and in her first attempt the phone fell onto her lap and she cursed in panic before picking it back up. Finally, the phone was in her hand and then beside her ear. Tyler could hear it ringing from where he stood outside.

“Please send someone. Quick. I found a dead body … yes. My name? It's Maria Vanderfield. Yes. I was on my way home and I nearly ran over it. Yes. Randolf Drive. I'll pull over to the side of the road and wait. How long? They're on their way? Okay. Good, thank you.” the woman sounded like she was beginning to hyperventilate.

There was a slight stirring in his stomach, a feeling he used to associate with being the starting pitcher for a big ball game as a kid. He stood directly beside the driver's side door. He raised his hand slowly to get the woman's attention. His breathing became quicker and less controlled. As he motioned toward the window he said; “Fuck,” as his hand slipped through the window and into the car.

For a moment, it looked like the woman took note of him, but she shrug it off. Maybe she only sensed he was there. Like when your in a dark room and that voice in your head pipes up and tells you that your not alone, just before your sibling or that crazy uncle jumps out of the closet in an attempt to scare you. The human mind is weird like that, being aware of everything and nothing at the same time. The easiest time to scare us is when we are comfortable, when we are so confident that we live in our-world and not the-world.

The woman shifted the SUV into drive and she drove slowly through him as she moved the vehicle to the side of the road so that it would be out of the way for the incoming emergency response teams.

He stood there for sometime; looming over his body. Looking at it as if he was an investigator on CSI. What happened? How did this happen to him? He was just on his way to his friend Sam's for some drinks and a few hands of cards, and then, this. He stood over his body for some time, he wasn't sure how long, all he knew was that he was still there when the ambulance arrived with it's sirens blazing.

Two men got out of the ambulance and ran over to the body. While they were lifting the body onto the stretcher Tyler heard incoming police sirens. He edged closer to one of the paramedics as the man began to strap Tyler's arms into the stretcher, ensuring the body wouldn't fall during transportation. “Don't bother,” he said hoping someone would hear, “it's already over …”

The body was laying on the stretcher, the stretcher on the road, one of the paramedics (Tyler saw his name-tag read; Mike), checked the pulse. “I can't feel anything,” Mike said, “we have to get this guy in the ambulance. Now. I can't get a good read on him with all this rain coming down on us. We could be running out of time if we haven't already.”

“Okay,” the other medic said, “lets get him up there. On three.” They hoisted the body up into the back of the ambulance. The paramedic named Mike remained in the ambulance, Tyler saw he was fumbling around his body's neck, trying to locate a pulse. The other paramedic was stepping out of the ambulance and began to close the doors. As the second door was closing, Tyler heard his body ringing.

He thought of his friends and he thought of his family as he watched the ambulance drive away.

title: About 2000 words to those looking for shorter or longer stories.

question: Summarize the twists in the story.

answer: Tyler is on his way to his friend Sam's for some drinks and a few hands of cards, and then the rain starts to fall. Tyler is surprised because the rain feels warm. He thinks that he cannot go to Sam's house as he is wet. However, it turns out that his jacket is totally dry. Then he notices a body on the road. A car slides sidewalks and a woman gets out of the car. She checks the body and call the ambulance.

question: What does the story say about the causes of the man's death?

question: What does the story say about how Tyler feels?

answer: Tyler is excited that he goes to Sam's house to see his friend. He is surprised when the rain starts to fall. Then he is shocked when he sees that his jacket is dry in spite of raining. Then he is even more surprised when he notices a body on the road.


text:
A new social video platform
with small groups
and rooms that shuffle

Strengthen social fabric one unexpected conversation at a time.

Get started

How it works

[name by priyanka from the Noun Project. Join the party on Mixaba]

1. Join the party

Tell us your name. This is how we'll introduce you to everyone.

[people by priyanka from the Noun Project. Join the party on Mixaba]

2. Enter a small group

We'll automatically break out into small groups. It's easier to really connect when you aren't talking over people.

[Shuffle by Rockicon from the Noun Project. Join the party on Mixaba]

3. Shuffle

Every so often the small groups will mix. Don't worry, we'll warn you first.

Loved by people worldwide, both on the job and off

Why Mixaba?

Mixaba is a new way to deepen relationships and strengthen social fabric based on a simple premise – communities can be more diverse, stronger, and increase their impact when we connect people in unexplored ways through a trusted platform.

_It all starts by encouraging conversations with people you might not usually talk to._

Get started

[Use Mixaba for happy hours]

Happy hours

Remote happy hours can be tough, especially with a large group. Use Mixaba to break out into small groups every so often to keep the conversation moving without talking over each other.

Start a happy hour for free

[Use Mixaba for workshops]

Work sessions

Do breakout sessions with groups of people for up to 15 minutes long, then shuffle and start again.

Create a workshop for free

question: What is Mixaba?

answer: Not explicitly answered, but it seems to be some sort of social platform.

question: How does Mixaba work?

answer: Mixaba automatically breaks people into small groups, and also automatically changes the individuals in each group.

question: Why should one use Mixaba?

answer: Mixaba believes that communities can be more diverse, strong, and have a greater impact when individuals connect with people in unexplored ways on a trusted platform.

question: What uses does Mixaba have?

answer: One could use Mixaba for a virtual happy hour or work sessions

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: This article details how Mixaba, a social platform, works.


text:
I'm not sure how active this sub is anymore, but I wanted to put this out there. I'm not a very frequent writer, but I felt I had to get this down, and get it out there. I do want to know what you think, so please be honest!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*There's a certain amount of irony here,* I thought, in a moment of self-consciously dramatic pause. As familiar as this street was, I kept expecting someone I knew to be in one of the passing cars. Maybe they'd lend a hand. Give me a lift. Maybe they would notice something was off, and they'd ask if anything was wrong. But no; first it had been a taxi, a garish blur of yellow through the stale smoke I blew in front of me. Next, a pizza delivery car. More than unfamiliar, they seemed foreign, and inauthentic, on my well trodden path to the library.

*Is that even ironic?* I still couldn't keep up with what irony was and wasn't. I was shaken out of my self-pity for just a moment when I realized I couldn't feel my fingers. I'd taken my gloves off to better double fist a coffee and a cigarette. Not the "I'm so sophisticated" kind of coffee and cigarette my British friends liked to very publicly have in front of the hip coffee shop while sporting designer sunglasses and a single earbud in, but the "I'm so fucked" kind of coffee and cigarette I liked to very privately have on my way to write a 25 page research paper I hadn't started yet for a class I haven't been to in a month. *And we're back,* I snidely remarked to myself, as my thoughts returned to self-pity. A college facilities truck rolled past, kicking up a frigid dust.

I took a drag. I took a sip. I wondered why I'd dug myself this stupid, stupid hole. I took a drag. I took a sip. I wondered how close I could get to 25 pages in 15 hours. I took a very long drag, and a very long sip.

*It's definitely something, if not ironic.* Am I thinking of symbolism? Does my lonely trip to campus represent something? Do those anonymous drivers hold some kind of deeper meaning? *Is that Ryan? Oh - no. Just a pickup.* I sighed deeply, and tapped my cigarette, knocking the ash off the end. I was being dramatic, and I knew it. *"What's the best way to get out of a field of shit?"* I heard him asking in my head. "Get up and start walking," I mumbled, the frozen air crystallizing my words as they left my lips. He'd always said that to me.

*It's that "get up" part that's the problem.* What are you supposed to do when you can't bring yourself to care that you're lying in shit? I mean, I know it's shit, but if I close my eyes and hold my breath, I can pretend it's not. Fuck me, I thought. When did I get so dramatic? I took a drag. *What am I, a girl?*

An image flashes in my head: I'm *dressed* as a girl, wearing some ridiculous flowery skirt I picked up from the Goodwill, and she's got on one of my shirts, with one of my baseball caps pulled over her bouncy curls. It was our first theme party: dress up as your date. We look goofy. I could see her so clearly; her cheeks rosy from the gin and tonics we thought we were fancy for drinking, her eyes shut tight and her face scrunched as she strikes a funny pose for a photo. I can feel her soft curves through the flannel of my shirt as I wrap my arm around her, and I can smell the perfume she wore. *Did she wear it for me?* I make eyes at her - for the photo of course - and the flash goes off. We smile, we laugh, and we go for another drink.

I looked up from my feet, and I looked back. *Shit.* I'd walked right past the library. I groaned, kicking myself, took a drag, and almost turned around, when I remembered where I was. I faced forward again; I choked on the smoke. *That bridge.* It had been three months since I'd laid eyes on that pond, that bridge.

That damned bridge.

I remembered the morning after the theme party, walking past that pond, that bridge, wondering if what they said about it was true. That if you took a girl across it, you'd be destined to be together forever. *Of course it's not true,* I'd thought, but I couldn't help but imagine taking her there. Brushing strands of blonde hair out of her face as I kissed her at the crest of that bridge.

That damned bridge.

I found myself sitting on a bench near the edge of the pond, and my mind was stuck on blonde hair again. Not hers, though. His.

*Fuck.* My chest tightened. I got up to leave, but I couldn't turn away. The clouds of my breath were more distinct here, near the water, floating out over the pond like ghosts. *Just look away. Please.* But I knew I wouldn't. I hadn't been able to three months prior. I wasn't able to in that moment either. *I have a fucking paper to write. I need to start this fucking paper.* My eyes were getting bleary, distorting the ghosts I couldn't tear my gaze from.

What would he say if he saw me right now? I wondered. I heard him in my head again. *"You're being a bitch, Dean. You're being a total fucking bitch right now."* He said it with a laugh. I knew he was right. He was always fucking right. I was being a bitch. But it was his fault. And I tried to tell him so.

"It's your fucking fault, John," I managed to whisper, weakly, with a shaky breath. I knew I was wrong. It was his fault he had killed himself, sure. But it wasn't his fault I was being a bitch. It just felt good to blame him. That selfish fuck.

I felt a buzz in my pocket. I pulled out my phone. "How's your paper coming?" she'd texted me.

"Great. Working hard. I'll text you in a bit."

"<3." *Yeah right.*

I pocketed my phone. She wouldn't come to get me, not like she'd done three months ago when I'd knelt for hours in the mud at the edge of the pond, staring at that bridge, crying, empty. If I told her where I was, she'd tell me to stop wallowing. She always said that. *Fucking wallowing. I hate that word.* That's why I'd stopped talking to her about it. That's why we'd been so distant recently. *This is your fault too, John,* I lied.

*Goddamn it, my paper.* The paper just felt so worthless. It all felt worthless. Parties felt worthless. Eating felt worthless. Showering felt worthless. Getting up and going to class felt worthless. Hell, getting up at all felt worthless. I didn't see the point. All I could see was John hanging from that bridge, gently swinging, back and forth.

That goddamned, fucking bridge.

I flicked my cigarette into the pond. I set the cold dregs of my coffee down on the bench next to me. I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath. I sat there for a while, just breathing that bitingly cold air deep into my lungs.

"Beautiful, huh?"

A voice from behind the bench startled me. I opened my eyes, and turned around. Some short, brown-haired girl, wearing earmuffs and a black coat, both of which seemed comically large for her frame, stood hugging her arms around her torso.

"What?"

"That bridge. It's so pretty at night. When they light it up. Isn't it?" She glanced up, toward the bridge at my back. She glanced back at me; her eyes were a pure, icy blue in the light. Her smile turned up in one corner of her mouth, sort of half crooked.

"Oh. Uh, yeah." I glanced away. My brow furrowed.

"I'm... sorry to have bothered you. Have a good night." I'd been too gruff. She turned on her heels and left.

First I cursed her, but then I cursed myself. *You ass. She just wanted to talk. She didn't know.*

It was starting to snow gently. A delicate calm settled over the pond. I looked at the bridge again, watching shadows dance across it, and thought about how stupid I'd been to have hoped for a friend to appear on the road earlier. I wasn't even sure anyone would've stopped for me. I'd been so detached from the people I cared about. I felt so lonely, so desolate. I wondered, for a moment, if this was how John felt before he did it. *People don't just show up with free bundles of joy,* I thought. *No one just shows up with a smile -*

In an instant, I looked up, away from the pond, away from the bridge. She was still in eyesight. Something took over me; I shouted, "Hey! Hey, wait up!"
She stopped and turned around. She still had her arms wrapped around herself. She seemed confused.

"What?" she asked, terse. *You know, that crooked smile was kind of charming.*

"Just wait a second!"

Paper be damned. I got up, and started walking.

title: [MF] That Damned Bridge

question: Explain the narrator's sentiment towards the bridge.

answer: The narrator contemplates about the bridge that was known for making two people destined to be together if a girl was taken across it. However the narrator hated the bridge but the girl he is with is admiring the beauty of it. All the narrator could think of was the vision of his friend, John, hanging from it when he killed himself.


text:
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-   Syllabus
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