text:
Every morning it was the same old story. I woke at five-thirty and bathed myself. By seven I was on the bus going to school for my daily learnings. I felt as if my life was being dictated by societal and other such forces. It was as if I had no real control over my own life. I felt controlled. I never really expected what was to happen. I felt, I bled, and I learned. I learned with speed and grace unlike any other. There were days when I wondered why that was.

Regardless, I continued on in my daily endeavors, yet I always wanted something more, somewhere I could fit in, a niche so to speak. I continued writing, and learning, and most of all I continued looking. I was looking for a reason to exist, a reason why. I needed more then I had. I needed a reason to live. I needed to know that I was more than just a human encyclopedia or calculator. I wanted to love; I wanted to be able to live. I wanted to see there were more than just learning and acidic words thrown by ignorant masses. The hated were the intellectual and the loved were the unique. Somehow, I managed to be both. I continued fighting the omnipresent pressure to be something I wasn't.

I would not let myself be herded like a sheep. What I didn't yet know was that I was being controlled by even stronger forces. I felt like I was a coded program, not a human. I didn't feel that I could choose my path. I didn't feel that I could choose what to learn. I just did exactly what I was designed to. It was summer when I learned the shocking truth. I was 16 and a half at the time. I was taking a shower, just like usual, and I fell down and my head smashed against the wall. My hand immediately flew to my head to inspect the damage. But I didn't feel blood on this wound.

I raised my hand slowly, a painful shiver running down my spine. I felt not bone, brain matter, or any other organic fluids. I felt smooth metal, and wires. I checked the mirror and I saw chrome and microchips. On one of these chips I found a designation:

>Sentient 162-73a

It was in that moment that I realized I had no purpose. I was a sheep to the programmed herder in my circuits. I was everything I brought myself to despise. I was only a machine, a sentient, who would never know love or feeling. I was only a program living through its code. I was simply an existent being. I wish I could love. I wish I could live. But the cold reality is that I am machine. I am Sentient 162-73a.

title: Sentient

question: What is the source of the narrator's discontent?

answer: Unknown.

question: Who put the chip and wires in the narrator?

answer: Unknown.


split: train

text:
A report on ICS security released today by Kaspersky Lab reveals how dire the situation really is.

We live in an increasingly connected world, but even in an age when DDoS attacks can take entire airlines offline, many critically sensitive industrial control systems (ICS) are still connected to the internet.

A pair of reports released today by Kaspersky Lab reveal how dire the situation really is. In a scan, it found nearly every industrial control system that’s connected to the internet suffers from remotely exploitable vulnerabilities and is vulnerable to man-in-the-middle attacks.

According to a review of publicly accessible ICS hosts, a staggering 91.1 percent likely belong to large organizations and have vulnerabilities that can be exploited remotely; 3.3 percent of the hosts contain remotely exploitable vulnerabilities that are considered critical.

One report, “Industrial Control Systems Vulnerabilities Statistics,” carried out by the company’s Security Services team, takes a comprehensive look at industrial control system security throughout the 2015 calendar year, breaking down all 189 ICS vulnerabilities dug up in 2015. While it may seem like there’s been an influx of ICS bugs over the last 12 months, the figure is actually more or less in line with statistics from the last few years and comes in just three bugs fewer than the all time high of 192 discovered in 2012.

The number 189 vulnerabilities does mark a tenfold increase from 2010 however, when only 19 vulnerabilities were identified.

[Screen Shot 2016-07-11 at 7.11.19 AM]

_ICS Vulnerabilities Through The Years_

In another report, “Industrial Control Systems and Their Online Availability,” Kaspersky Lab discovered 188,019 hosts with ICS components, spread across 170 countries. Researchers at the firm deduced that 13,698 of those hosts likely belong to large organizations; stressing that in many instances, the corporations may be responsible for regulating energy, aerospace, oil, gas, chemical, or other industries.

Networking devices were the most popular type of ICS component Kaspersky found connected to the internet, followed up by PLCs, or programmable logic controllers, and SCADA, or supervisory control and data acquisition, systems.

As far as vendors go, products from Siemens, Schneider Electric, and Hospira were the biggest culprits last year, the report claims, with each responsible for 33, 18, and 12 vulnerabilities, respectively.

Siemens and Schneider Electric regularly appear on the Industrial Control Systems Cyber Emergency Response Team’s (ICS-CERT) list of advisories. In one instance last year – as the report notes – Siemens had to patch an authentication bypass vulnerability that plagued small telecontrol systems made by the company called SICAM MIC devices. An attacker could’ve obtained administrative access to the devices through HTTP requests.

Schneider meanwhile was forced to patch multiple vulnerabilities, including a locally exploitable flaw, and a hard-coded credential, in its software, following a disclosure at DEFCON last summer.

Hospira made history last summer after its Lifecare PCA3 drug infusion pumps were found susceptible to multiple vulnerabilities. The flaws, which were largely uncovered by security researcher Billy Rios and Jeremy Richards, prompted the Food and Drug Administration to issue a public safety notification, the first of its kind, warning hospitals to stay away from the devices.

Kaspersky found that a whopping 91.6 percent of the externally available ICS devices it discovered used inherently insecure protocols like Telnet and SNMP. The lion’s share of those devices, 116,900 in total, used HTTP, something that could allow an attacker to compromise the devices, potentially through a man-in-the-middle attack.

The company performed its research using a fingerprint knowledge base of 2,000 records, something which allowed it to identify select ICS vendors and versions in ICS search engines such as Shodan and Censys. It also used a combination of open source intelligence and information from ICS-CERT, the NVD/CVE database, and other sites.

For anyone looking for a silver lining to the report, one of the more positive figures comes to the forefront if you only take ICS-CERT data into account: vendors fixed 85 percent of published vulnerabilities last year. Five percent of vulnerabilities, 19 vulns in total – 14 that are high risk – were never patched in 2015 however. The remaining 10 percent includes vulnerabilities that were either partially fixed, or left unpatched simply because the product was deemed obsolete.

[Screen Shot 2016-07-11 at 7.11.59 AM]

_ICS Vulnerabilities in 2015_

While it’s scary enough that some of the vulnerabilities from last year never got fixed, stories about factories, power plants, airlines, and other industrial systems being taken offline due to new vulnerabilities continue to command headlines in 2016.

Earlier this year a man associated with the Iranian government was indicted after being accused of hacking into the SCADA systems of a small dam in Rye, New York. The man was able to monitor water temperature, water levels, and more data pertaining to the dam. He reportedly would’ve even been able to control a gate in the dam, had it not already been disconnected for maintenance.

Polish planes at Warsaw’s Chopin Airport were grounded for a weekend last June after an airline there was hit by a DDoS attack. Earlier this year a cyber attack – ultimately fingered as the BlackEnergy1 APT – struck Western Ukraine power company Prykarpattyaoblenergo leaving hundreds of thousands of residents in the Ivano-Frankivisk region of the country in the dark.

A report from IBM just two weeks ago revealed from last March to this May, denial of service attacks and malicious attachments accounted for nearly 50 percent of attacks against the control networks of planes, trains, trucks, and ships.

“We are seeing this industry emerging as high-value target right alongside healthcare, manufacturing, financial services and government,” Michelle Alvarez, a researcher with IBM told Threatpost at the time.

The numbers in today’s Kaspersky Lab report echo those sentiments.

“Our research shows that the larger the ICS infrastructure, the bigger the chance that it will have severe security holes,” Andrey Suvorov, Head of Critical Infrastructure Protection at Kaspersky Lab said of ICS security.

“This is not the fault of a single software or hardware vendor. By its very nature, the ICS environment is a mix of different interconnected components, many of which are connected to the Internet and contain security issues,” Suvarov said.

question: What does the text say about today's situation with the ICS?

answer: Kaspersky Lab reveals that many companies making use of industrial control systems are still connected to the internet. This makes them vulnerable to attacks. According to a review, a staggering 91.1% likely belong to organizations that have vulnerabilities that can be exploited remotely.

question: What does the text say about companies that use ICS?

answer: According to Kaspersky Lab, companies that use ICS that are connected to the internet are most likely to expose themselves to attacks. According to a review, a staggering 91.1% likely belong to organizations that have vulnerabilities that can be exploited remotely.

question: What does the text say about ICS vulnerabilities through the years?

answer: Networking devices were the most popular type of ICS component Kaspersky found connected to the internet. This was later followed up by PLCs and SCADA systems.

question: What does the text say about the ICS environment?

answer: According to Suvarov, the ICS environment is a mix of different interconnected components, many of which are connected to the internet and contain security issues.


text:
Very first story, give me any feedback and be brutally honest if necessary. Enjoy!

It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be fine in just a little while, just wait.

I sit here in bed, in my room. My dark, quiet, still room. Nothing can be heard in this tiny room. I sit up on my bed and realize that I can’t see a single thing in front of me. It’s like I’m not here. I reach my hand out and drift it from side to side, hoping maybe it would bump into something, feel anything. Nothing. I’m starting to feel dizzy. As far as I know there are two things left in this room, my phone and this bottle. Both lying in my lap.

 I pick up my phone and turn it on. The screen light bursts into the room, ricocheting off of every wall revealing a shadowy silhouette of everything in my room. It takes a while for my eyes to adjust to the light. I squint and see that the number is still dialed. I know who waits on the other side. The only person left that would hear me, the only person I know that would drop the world for me is just waiting on the other side of one button. I could call, I could talk and talk, and maybe they would come visit me. They would come in, sweep me off my feet and drive me away to a better place. A place with smiling faces in every room. Everybody there will be dressed in white and everyone will want to know how my day was, how I’m feeling. I’ll be do distracted by my new friends that I’ll never be here again. I sit and stare into the darkness, smiling at my fantasies. But that’s all they are, fantasies. Maybe, on another night they could become my reality, but it’s far too late tonight. I put down my phone, the light goes off, and I’m swallowed up by the darkness of my room.

I pick up my bottle. Contents half gone, the dizziness is really kicking in now. I knew it would be okay. Just a little while longer now, and it’ll be even better. I look at my bottle, and consider finishing it off. I twist the cap off just as a slight tingling zips through my entire body, even dizzier now. I decide against it and put the bottle back on the bed in front of me, next to my phone. My eyes have readjusted to the darkness, I stare into the darkness and see nothing. It’s as if I’m already asleep, but I can still hear myself think. I lay down and wait for my eyes to close, but my thoughts have me wired, wide-eyed, wide awake. My mind starts to race and my head starts spinning. Is this what I wanted? I want to fall asleep, but it’s not coming fast enough and the pain becomes too much bare, excruciating. I start to kick and twist in my bed. I hear myself whimpering into the empty room. I roll off the bed and am followed by my phone and still open bottle. I hit the ground with a thump, and I hear the pills from the bottle scattering all over the floor. “GOD!” I shriek aloud. My voice echoes around the room and falls flat after a moment. The pain subsides, and euphoria sets in. It’s quiet again.

God, a fantasy I haven’t believed in for a while now. Heaven too. Where are God and Heaven at a time like this? I don’t need to find Jesus. That’s what everyone thought I needed, Jesus. I don’t have time for someone who isn’t here. I needed someone real, I need someone now.

The euphoric feeling overwhelms my entire body. I can’t feel a thing anymore. I can’t feel my head spinning, my heart pounding or my limbs aching. I can only see and hear, and I see and hear nothing, still. It’s quiet and dark. Serenity like I’ve never experienced. I can't tell if its fantasy or reality. Finally, I’m going to fall asleep. My eyelids start to drop, but a light bursts into the room, ricocheting off the ceiling and dimly exposing the floor where I lay. I see my phone lying face up on the floor by my feet. I muster up any strength left in my deadened arms and drag my body around to see who is calling. I swirl my head around to where my feet were and gaze through hazy eyes at the screen. I can barely make it out on my phone screen: “CALLING". Below that: “911”. I can barely hear the ringing on the other side of the line, where that one person left in the world will be waiting for my response when they pick up, my plea for help. My vision and hearing start to fade to black and nothingness, and I fall asleep.

I open my eyes and I see a bright light. A shadowy silhouette stands in a background of white, but I can’t hear what he or she is saying. Everything is hazy, almost misty, and I squint to make out what is before me, but to no avail. I can’t tell who this person is, but at least there’s someone here with me.

title: [RF] Phone and a bottle

question: Why doesn't the narrator answer the phone?

answer: The narrator is close to passing out. The phone is at her feet and she can't muster the strength to retrieve it. She can barely make out the screen that shows that emergency services are on the other end and may be able to help her. Her life fades into blackness before she can answer the call.

question: What is action is the narrator taking throughout the story?

answer: The narrator is in the process of committing suicide. There are pills in the bottle on her lap, the only thing besides the phone that she has with her. The contents are half gone and she has become dizzy and a little disorientated.

question: Why does the narrator want to kill themselves?


text:
MOHAMAD HASSAN COMMANDER is a politician belonging to Kargil Ladakh in Jammu and Kashmir state of India. He is currently affiliated with the Indian National Congress and is a senior member of its district unit.

In 1989 he was elected as an independent to Lok Sabha from the Ladakh constituency.[1]

[1]

title: Mohamad Hassan Commander

question: Who is Mohammad Hassan Commander affiliated with?

answer: He is affiliated with the Indian National Congress.

question: Where is Mohammad Hassan Commander from?

answer: He belong to Kargil, Ladakh in Jammu.

question: For which did Mohammad Hassan Commander initially run?

answer: He was an independent.

question: What does Mohammad Hassan Commander do for a living?

answer: He is an Indian politician.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: Mohammad Hassan Commander is an Indian politician, currently affiliated with the Indian National Congress. He was initially elected to the Lok Sabha as an independent from the Ladakh constituency. He still belongs to this constituency.


text:
The copy room is right down the hall from my office.  Which is both a good and a bad thing and I'll tell you why.  Its a good thing because when I need to make a copy, its very convenient for me to do so.  This is doubly good because, as an accountant, I often need to make copies of things even in this new digital age.  We get a lot of different documents that require copying like time cards, purchase orders, receipts, invoices and various other things of those types.

It is a bad thing because the copy room, at least in my office, is where people go to have the most awkward and strained conversations that I believe the human race is capable of having.  The conversations I hear in the copy room make me wish that we had never invented language and we were still all just rummaging around in the underbrush looking for grubs or whatever to eat.  I hate copy room conversations.

My friend Frank gets to sit by the water cooler.  And even better, he's got one of those old-style tall-walled cubes so that when he's sitting there or whatever nobody really thinks he's sitting there at all because they can't see him.  I don't even need to tell you that he gets all the good gossip.  Seriously, his work day is like sitting around listening to old fashioned radio dramas all day.  He's personally witness four home-wrecking office romances begin and then crash and burn while filing all collating.  Its amazing.  One time he stopped a terrorist attack.  I swear.  He heard something and he said something.

And what do I get?  Just last week I heard a sales rep and a girl from accounts receivable discuss…in detail…the proper constancy for oatmeal.  I swear - you can't make this up.

That one was especially horrible but I do exaggerate just a little.  Most of the time when I'm distracted by the conversation in the copy room, it tends to be about what people did with their weekend and slash or nights before.  Let me tell you something:  nobody does anything even remotely fun on the weekends.  Including me. Like, did you know there's a skydiving school not ten minutes away from this office?  Or there's a soup kitchen that always needs volunteers.  And a place where you can learn to shoot a bow and arrow while riding a horse.  But all everyone ever does is barbecue.  I swear, if I have to hear about one more barbecue, I'm going to ride a horse into this office and shoot the lazy conversationalist with a bow and arrow.  Without dismounting.

The terrorist attack that Frank stopped was when a guy got fired and then he was going to bring in his AK-47 or his gun or something and shoot all of us for still having our jobs.  And Frank heard about it and Frank told someone and that guy went to jail.  Swear to god.  He's a hero because of that water cooler.

I guess I can't talk too badly about the people in the copy room.  I mean, I do only listen to what they have to say because I'm so bored sitting in my half-tall cube that whatever mindless drivel they are going on about is just about on par with the purchase orders I'm filing or whatever.  Did you know that before I took this job, I was kind of hazy on what a purchase order actually was?  I'm not going to lie to you, I'm still a little unclear.  Its like money - you write down what you want and say you promise to pay for it and then you get it almost right away.  But you don't actually pay for it right away.  Did you know that some places prefer a purchase order to actual money?  I don't get it.  I think I should try to buy groceries with a purchase order then move before the bill comes.  That might work.

I will say this, Frank has it worse then me because nobody every whispers weirdly in the copy room.  They're always doing stuff that's shady by the water cooler -whispering and making you feel like they're talking about you.  But over by the copy room, they're pretty on the level, I guess.  They don't really have anything to whisper about or lie about or anything like that while they are making copies.  But I'm pretty sure people are always lying while they drink water out of paper cones.  Don't ask me why but its true.  Maybe the cones remind them of dunce hats or something and they think that they can get away with being small-minded assholes while they drink out of them.

Anyway, the other day Frank told me he heard some people at the water cooler talking about the weird lady who sits by the copy room.  I thought it might be someone else at first but then I realized that everyone in the cubes around me are man.  There are one or two empty cubes but they've been empty so long that we kind of just ignore them like they're null-space that doesn't exist or like they're full of concrete and just…empty.  Frank came up to me over in the copy room and told me that some people were talking about how weird I was.  I have to be honest with you, I was so excited to have some gossip happening in the copy room for once that I didn't even have time to get offended.  So I guess what I'm trying to get at is that you have to, like, I don't know - if you want gossip in the copy room instead of stupid conversations, then you have to get up and start gossiping in the copy room instead of just copying your purchase orders and then going back to your cube.

title: COPY ROOM

question: Who is the narrator?

answer: An accountant who sits by the copy room in her office

question: Who is Frank?

answer: The narrator's friend who sits by the water cooler

question: What example does the narrator give of a copy room conversation?

answer: Two of her coworkers discussed the proper consistency for oatmeal

question: How did Frank stop a terrorist attack?

answer: He heard a disgruntled former-employee threaten to attack the office with a gun and reported them

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: The narrator is an accountant who sits by the copy room in her office. Her friend Frank sits by the water cooler and hears much better conversations than her. In the copy room, Frank tells the narrator that he heard some people talking about how weird she is.


text:
Erin sat on the wooden bench solemnly. Josh sat next to her quietly. Ally was on the ground beneath them. They sat quietly for a few minutes. Josh looked over at Erin, her hair waved in front of her face. She stared blankly into the distance. He placed his hand over hers. Ally looked over at them. "Sometimes, there are things in life you take for granted, until you lose them, it doesn't make a difference until then." Erin whispered through a hoarse voice. They sat silently together for a few moments.
Josh dove into the water, he heard everyone screaming behind him. Ally swam next to him. Erin's body moved over the waves, the pool of red surrounded him. A distant fin moved away. He grabbed Erin under her back and pulled with unknown strength through the waves. Ally swam in front of him yelling. "HELP!" Her voice cracked in fear. When he finally reached the sand he dragged her onto the shore. "Someone call 911!"
Josh's parents erratically drove into to yard. His mom ran up the stairs onto the deck. She embraced Erin in her arms. Erin frowned seeming unfazed by the fact of a human affection being shown. His Dad walked onto the deck slowly and looked at both Ally and Josh. He pulled them aside and spoke. "You can't do anything, she'll have to adapt but, there really isn't anything you can do."
Josh walked into the school and looked around. An air of silence lingered as he walked through the halls. He walked over to his locker and opened it. A few notes fell out, notes of encouragement. He shoved them into the back of his locker. Ally walked next to him, "Give me those." He handed her the notes. "This doesn't do crap. It doesn't make a difference for Erin. She couldn't even open her locker without these pouring out."
Josh stepped into the bathroom. His face looked shallow. His hand and lower abdomen covered in blood. He washed himself briefly and then heard the home phone ring. He ran into the living room, dripping water, and grabbed the phone. "Ally? What's happening" He listened closely to her words and sat down on the couch. Tears filled his eyes, he held them back and hung up. He walked over to the sliding glass doors and stared outside. Families ran around at outside, ignoring the giant patch of red sand. He yelled and flipped over a small table.
Josh moved his hand down to Erin's wrist. He couldn't feel anything but he wasn't sure he had his hand in the right place. His mind tried to remember how to do CPR. He pushed down on her chest multiple times. A siren noisily appeared. He put his lips to hers and let out a breath of air. He pushed down on her chest and repeated. He looked over as a paramedic group ran over and lifted her onto a gurney. He ran to catch up to them. In a sudden thought he told Ally to go with the ambulance.
Erin suddenly broke down into tears and fell into Josh's arms. Ally moved closer to them and placed her hand on Erin's back. He held her close and brushed his fingers through her hair. Her crying quieted and she lifted her head up to look to him. "I shouldn't be here J, I came because you invited me at the last second and I said, 'Oh sure that sounds like fun!' Look at me now" Erin fell into tears again, Ally looked at Josh. Josh was never an emotional person, but he was holding back tears suddenly.
Josh sat outside the house waiting. A police car drove up and Ally walked out. Erin walked out of the other side wrapped in a blanket. When they reached the deck they all walked inside. Erin walked towards her bedroom and Ally pulled Josh aside, "Don't, not now" Ally followed Erin into her room. They stayed there for hours until Josh's parents called.
Josh sat next to Erin and looked over at her. The lecture being given in class flew over his head as usual. She looked at him and and smiled. The bell rang and everyone left. Erin waded through the crowd to hug him. "Thank you" He held her in his arms for a moment and they walked away, Josh holding Erin's remaining hand in his.
--INFO-- This story was written one night on iPhone's notepad while listening to sad music. I had originally written it in chronological order but I decided to mix it up to see if it looks better. Let me know!!

title: [RF] Unknown Shores

question: Answer the writer's question at the end of the post.

answer: The sequence of sentences is confusing. The issue in the narrative is not the fact that the events are not chronologically arranged, but because the words used do not provide an easily identifiable transition for the readers to follow, as such, if the story was chronologically arranged then it would be better than mixing it up.


text:
_PSYCHOTIC GENIUS_ is the third album released by rapper, Ganksta NIP. It was released on February 20, 1996 through Rap-a-Lot Records and was produced by Mike Dean, Mike B, Gregory Jackson, Mezeio Jackson, Swift and N.O. Joe. The album peaked at #32 on the Top R&B/Hip-Hop Albums and #19 on the Top Heatseekers.

Track listing

1.  “Uncle Sam” – 5:51
2.  “Psychotic Genius” – 4:25
3.  “Small Town Killas” – 5:58
    -   (Feat. Point Blank)
    -   Written-By – Reginald Gilland
4.  “Peep Da Game” – 5:32
5.  “Slaughterhouse” – 5:27
6.  “Goin To Da Death” – 4:59
    -   Producer, Written-By – Mezeio Jackson
7.  “Psychflow” – 3:47
8.  “Hood Talez” – 5:36
    -   (Feat. Street Military)
9.  “Peace To Da Young G's” – 5:24
10. “Crimewave” – 5:10
11. “Hollograms” – 4:55
    -   Producer – N.O. Joe
    -   Written-By – Joe Johnson*
12. “Murda After Midnite” – 5:20

Personnel

-   Engineer, Mastered By – Mike Dean
-   Mastered By – Anthony Valcic
-   Producer – Mike B.(tracks: 2, 4, 8), Swift (tracks: 1, 5, 7, 9)
-   Producer, Written-By – Gregory Jackson (tracks: 3, 10, 12)
-   Written-By – Jonathan Catalon(tracks: 1, 5, 7, 9), Michael Banks* (tracks: 2, 4, 8), Rowdy Williams

Album Chart Positions

+-----------------------------------+-----------------------------------+
| Chart (1996)                      | Peak                              |
|                                   | position                          |
+:==================================+:==================================+
| Top R&B/Hip-Hop Albums            | 32                                |
+-----------------------------------+-----------------------------------+
| Top Heatseekers                   | 19                                |
+-----------------------------------+-----------------------------------+

Category:1996 albums Category:Ganksta N-I-P albums Category:Rap-A-Lot Records albums Category:Albums produced by Mike Dean (record producer) Category:Albums produced by N.O. Joe Category:Gangsta rap albums by American artists Category:Horrorcore albums Category:G-funk albums

title: Psychotic Genius

question: What does the text say about Psychotic Genius?

answer: Psychotic Genius is the third album released by Ganksta NIP. It was released on February 20, 1996. The album peaked at #32 on the top R&B/Hip-Hop Albums.

question: What does the text say about the album's tracklisting?

answer: The album tracklist contains 12 songs: Uncle Sam, Psychotic Genius, Small Town Killas, Peep Da Game, Slaughterhouse, Goin to Da Death, Psychflow, Hood Talez, Peace To Da Young G's, Crimewave, Hollograms, and Murda After Midnite.

question: What does the text say about the album's personnel?

answer: The album was engineered by Mike Dean, mastered by Anthony Valcic, produced by Mike B., Swift, and Gregory Jackson, and written by Jonathan Catalon, Michael Banks, and Rowdy Williams.

question: What does the text say about music production?


text:
*I made the guy the minute he walked into the park. He was trying to hide it, act chill, but I knew straight up that this was the guy I'd been on the phone to not an hour ago. I relaxed back on the bench, lit another cigarette and feigned in the local news section of the paper while I watched him through the smoke. He started forward, stopped, and tried not to look like a rabbit caught in headlights. The sports bag he held was pressed tightly to his chest, and he eyed anyone who got within ten feet of him in case they might make a move for it. He drifted towards the pond across from me, as if to seem to anybody watching that maybe he spotted the person he was looking for on the other side. Pulled his phone from his pocket as though checking a text message. Ambled towards the bench I sat on in semi-circles. There's nothing more noticeable than someone trying not to act noticeable. He probably had the whole thing laid out in his head like some three-act play. His 'drama de non-chalance'. It was fucking hilarious, but tiring at the same time. I dont usually deal so much to new people, I like to deal with my regulars, and maybe the occasional transaction with a friend of a friend, but only when they come vouched for. In this case I made an exception, Malta Black is hot. I needed to move it as fast as possible.*

*After a few more minutes of aimless meandering like a newborn calf, he eventually worked up the courage to sit on the other end of the bench, sat stock straight, watching out across park where some college aged kids tossed a frisbee around under the trees. He spoke to me out of the corner of his mouth; "Ar-Are you Jones?". I folded my paper across my lap and turned to face him abruptly. "Yeah. Are we going to fucking deal or what? I have someplace to be". He recoiled in terror, tensed up, mouth agape and eyes darting, as if expecting the two Au-Pairs with strollers walking by to suddenly pull badges and guns and yell "Freeze! Motherfucker! The jigs up!". I frowned and shot him a 'Chill the fuck out' glare as I pulled the slim case from underneath the bench and popped it open between us.*

*"So Mark said you were in the market for some Malta Black?" I asked as I peeled back the wax sheets from the top of the product. "I need to know you're serious, because this shits not easy to move." The terror left him now, I could see the addict in him, the way his eyes lit up and telltale twitch of the lips when he saw it laid out in front of him like a veritable gold mine. He reached out to pick it up and I snapped the case shut, catching his fingers. "Money first, bud. You know how this works." He nodded as he fumbled his wallet out of his pocket. I continued "This is only the sample case. I have the whole shipment, 30 cases, like this, ready to go. You pay me now, I call our mutual buddy mark and he meets my guy later for the exchange. Cool?" He nodded again, lost for words. He was probably fantasizing about what he was going to do with that much Malta Black. Its a huge amount, even for a heavy addict, but thats not my problem. I just sell it, I don't tell them what to do with it.*

*He offered the sports bag, and I did a quick check to see it wasn't bills stacked on top of socks before I stood up slinging it over my should. "All looks good. You'll hear from mark this evening. If I get home and count this, and find you trying to cut me short, you'll hear from me before then. Personally. Otherwise you wont see me again. Understand?" He mumbled affirmation, transfixed on the case, gently caressing the corners with his fingers. I stubbed out my cigarette on the bench and left by the west st. entrance. Another deal done. Another day down. People say the hardest thing about dealing is not getting hooked yourself. But I've never understood the fascination of stamps.*

title: Short piece inspired by an off-hand comment in a thread on askreddit. Tell me what you think. (~700 words)

question: What is the narrator doing in the park?

answer: He is waiting for a guy to come and buy "Malta Black", an apparent drug or illicit substance, from him. He recognizes the guy instantly when he enters the park due to how obvious it is that he is trying to act nonchalant.

question: How do the two come in contact?

answer: The buyer sheepishly makes his way over to the narrator, but his whole demeanor is overhung by fear and anxiety. Jones, the narrator, is both comically entertained and tired of the way the buyer is carrying himself.

question: What happens when Jones shows the buyer the Malta Black?

answer: Jones peels wax sheets back from the top of the product and the buyer is transfixed by the sight of it like a true addict would be. It is a huge amount of Malta Black, lord knows what he would do with all of it, but Jones doesn't care. He only wants to sell the stuff. He promises to deliver 30 cases like the one in his hands if the money is right.

question: How does the buyer finish the transaction?

answer: The buyer gives Jones the sports bag he so anxiously has been clutching. It was brimming with money when Jones opened it, and he sifted through to make sure it wasn't fake. He tells the buyer that the money looks good, and he wont hear from him again if the count is right. If it comes out that he is trying to cut him short however, Jones assures him there will be problems.

question: Write a ~8 sentence summary.

answer: Jones waits in a park for a buyer to come and meet him to take 30 shipments of Malta Black off his hands. Malta Black is an illicit substance of some kind which is hot on the market, and Jones has tons of it at the moment. The buyer is someone who knows Jones' friend Mark, and is the current only exception to Jones' personal rule of only selling to friends or close contacts. The buyer arrives in the park and Jones clocks him instantly because of how anxious he looks and how obvious it is that he is trying to be nonchalant. Finally the buyer sheepishly approaches Jones and they begin the transaction. He hands Jones a sports bag brimming with money, and Jones tells him the count looks good and the 30 shipments will be sent to him. If the money is right, the buyer will never see Jones again. If, however, the count is off, he'll be seeing Jones very soon, consequences in tow.


text:
HELAL KHAN is a Bangladeshi film actor and producer.[1][2][3] His debut film was _Priyo Tumi_ (1995). In his career, he has acted over 50 films.[4][5] Couple of times Khan received National Film Awards in the year 2002 and 2003.

Personal life

He is a supporter of Bangladesh Nationalist Party. He shows his interest to participate in 2018 national election from Sylhet-6 seat.

Filmography

-   _Priyo Tumi_
-   _Bazigor_
-   _Sagorika_
-   _Asha Amar Asha_
-   _Hason Raza_
-   ''Momotaz ''
-   _Juari_
-   _Guru Bhai_
-   _Kukhato Khunai_
-   _Nakful_
-   _Aposhhin_

Awards and achievements

  Year   Award                  Category        Film           Result
  ------ ---------------------- --------------- -------------- --------
  2002   National Film Awards   Best Producer   _Hason Raza_
  2003   National Film Awards   Best Actor      _Juari_        [6]

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

title: Helal Khan

question: Who is Helal Khan?

answer: A Bangladeshi film actor and producer

question: List the awards Helal Khan has received.

answer:
The 2002 National Film Award for Best Producer (for Hason Raza)
The 2003 National Film Award for Best Actor (Juari)

question: Describe Helal Khan's personal life.

answer: His personal life is not described.

question: What is Helal Khan's political affiliation?

answer: He supports the Bangladesh Nationalist Party.

question: List 5 films Helal Khan has worked on.

answer: Priyo Tumi, Bazigo, Hason Raza, Juari, Nakful

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: Helal Khan is a Bangladeshi actor and producer. He has appeared in over 50 films, and received two National Film Awards


text:
The Civilized

Pushed out into the dusty arena, Kuru looked around. A roaring crowd surrounded him, but he couldn’t understand a word. Though they obviously weren’t cheering for his victory, they’re cheering for his sacrifice.

Rewind, this isn’t where the story begins.

In shackles Kuru shuffled along one of the famed roads that lead to Rome, as all the roads did. All the beaten and bruised men of different coloured skin shambled along the road led by the soldiers.

Kuru heard someone speak something in front of him. He realized that the words were in a language he didn’t understand. Then he heard the voice cry out in pain. The line of men didn’t slow down at the cry though, they kept marching.

Rewind further, something’s still missing.

His daughters tanned skin, his wife was teaching her how to work leather. Kuru was watching them as he sharpened his scythe. He smiled, the scene made him remember the times he spent learning from his father. The proper way to sharpen an edge, the best way to swing a blade, his father taught him the right way to do things.

Kuru would work in their family’s field with his father and they would talk. That’s where Kuru first learned of Rome; the wondrous city, the running water, the books of letters, of laws and democracy.

His memories were interrupted by a scream, then another.

Kuru stood up just in time to greet a trio of soldiers as they entered his home, swords already drawn. He saw a flash of iron and was barely able to dive out of the way as the sword came down where he had just been smiling.

He got to his feet as his family screamed again. The solider that flashed the iron stood between him and his family as the other two soldiers grabbed his wife and daughter and took them from their home.

Kuru was confused, scared and angry, but mostly confused. He didn’t know what was happening. He took a step towards the women he loved but had to jump back to avoid being struck by the iron blade.

Kuru had never fought a man, but now he had no choice. Gripping his scythe, he swung attempting to cut the soldiers legs down, but the soldiers bronze leggings stopped the blade short of flesh.

Pulling back his scythe, Kuru looked at the man’s face. A smile was on his lips as he swung his sword again, narrowly missing Kuru’s shoulder.  Kuru regained his balance in time to catch the soldier’s fist in his stomach.

His breath was driven from his lungs. He panicked, his mouth reached for air as he fell to the ground, scythe fleeing his hands. He heard the solider speak, “Roma Invicta” right before he felt the hilt of the sword on the back of his head.

Fast forward through the chained march with strangers, a march that lead him to the city he had dreamed about, and ended with him entering into the largest building he had ever seen.

 Fast forward to after the sword and shield had been forced into his hands and he was shoved into a dusty arena, surrounded by more people he had ever seen, screaming in a language he didn’t understand.

The sword in his hands felt heavy and as foreign as the words that the people were shouting. He stepped in a circle, seeing a spectacle that he couldn’t have imagined, Rome.

While Kuru didn’t understand the words spoken he could read the faces. They grimaced as they spat angry syllables at him. Fists were directed at him, thumbs pointed downward, fingers sliced throats as he looked at their eyes. Hate, anger, evil was the language they spoke.

He feared the mob that surrounded him, prayed that they would be held back by the massive structure.

Kuru cringed as the crowd erupted, even louder than they had been, deafening him.

A man in a gleaming golden suit of armor stepped out from behind a gate. His muscles rippled beneath the metal, his chiseled face shown only one blemish, a scar from his hairline to his chin.

Slowly the earsplitting noise organized into a chant of ‘Spartacus’, their hero, their God. When the man raised his sword in response to their love for him the crowd’s chant devolved back into a thunderous roar.

Kuru was at a loss, the sword and shield hung limply at his sides as he watched the spectacle. The scene seemed like a dream to him, no a nightmare.

Spartacus, their God, lowered his sword and pointed it in the direction of Kuru who looked to his sides, behind him, looked for what was being pointed at. Then he recognized it was himself. He began to tremble as the people’s idol began an effortless run at him.

Kuru was shocked that he was able to get his shield up in time to deflect a blow from being delivered. He thought the force that was delivered may have broken his arm through the metal that protected it.

The world broke into flashes of metal on metal, pain and blood.

Kuru’s body burned, his chest heaved, blood and sweat dripped from his frame as Spartacus paused to rally his supporters. Even Kuru marveled at what seemed to be a marble carving of a man glistening with perspiration, standing merely feet away with his back turned.

Time slowed for Kuru. He breathed in a breath that felt like ice as the peoples God turned, thrusting his sword into Kuru’s middle.

Kuru looked up into the cold eyes that held the sword. He was no God, he was a monster.

Falling to his knees Kuru looked to his chest, he saw blood leaking from around where the metal entered him. His hands trembled as they slowly reached up to the sharpened blade. In slow motion his fingers wrapped around the blade, red flowing from where they touched it, and pulling the sword out from whence it had entered.

Existence spun in Kuru’s eyes, the hard dirt hit his side. As the world faded to black Kuru heard the name of his reaper cheered.

So this is civilization, he thought.

title: The Civilized

question: What does the story say about how Kuru gets to the arena to fight?

answer: Three soldiers entered Kuru's house with drawn swords. One of the soldiers stood between him and his family as the other two soldiers grabbed his wife and daughter and took them from their home. Kuru started fighting the soldiers, and they took them to Rome to fight in the arena.

question: What does the story say about Kuru's fight with Spartacus?

answer: Kuru hears the crowd chanting 'Spartacus' and Spartacus raises his sword in response to their love for him the crowd’s chant. Then he points the sward in the direction of Kuru and begins to run at Kuru. Spartacus delivers the first blow, and Kuru thinks that his arm might be broken. Blood and sweat drip from his frame. Spartacus trusts his sword into Kuru’s middle. Kuru falls to his knees and looks to his chest and sees blood leaking from around where the metal entered him.

question: What does the story say about how Kuru feels about Rome?

answer: Kuru first learned of Rome while working in their family’s field. He heard it is an amazing city with running water, the city of books of letters, laws, and democracy. He dreams about Rome. One day, soldiers enter Kuru's house, take him to Rome, and make him fight Spartacus in Colosseum. Spartacus thrusts his sword into Kuru’s middle. Kuru is dying and hears the crowd chanting Spartacus' name. 'This is civilization', he thinks.

question: What does the story say about what happens with Spartacus after the fight with Kuru?


text:
The OKANDÉ are a people of north-eastern Gabon who belong to the Mèmbè language group (Okandè, Apindzi, Simba, Vové, Tsogho, Evia and Kotakota). Their language overlaps that of the Apindzi and the Simba about 80/86% according to professor Van Der Veen. Their estimated population of 2,000 persons (in 2003) live in the Lopé region in Ogooué-Ivindo. The Mwiri, a male initiation institution, still plays an important role in the traditional social and religious life of the Okandé.

While their history is little known today, the archives do speak of them. The Okandè, fierce conservators of their environment, through their initiation rites, (Douwa, Diyandzi, Ghétolè, Bwété, Mwiri) were formerly dubbed the “kings of the Ogooué, the vainquishers of the rapids”, better known than the Adouma and the Sisiwu, have taught their traditions, such as navigation of the Ogooué, okouyi dancing, Mvudi, Bodi, Mboudi, Mouiri, Ndjèmbè and others) to the Galois, Enènga, Aduma, Mbangwè and Sisiwu. Seasoned canoers, the Okandè helped the explorer Pierre Savorgnan de Brazza and his successors up the Ogooué to its source towards the end of the 18th century. They were longtime slave traders; the Adouma came down the Ogooué to the Lopé to sell them slaves, and in turn the Okandé brought them in pirogues specially adapted to the rocks and rivers of the Ogooué to sell them to the Enènga of Lambaréné.

Only the Okandè and the Kotakota (derived from the Apinzi of the Ogooué) of Ndjolé, or, rarely, the Enènga, attempted the Ogooué in its most complex stretch, from Lambaréné to Booué, which the Galois and Enènga called “Orèmbo Okandè”, or the river of the Okandè. The Okandè named the river the Ogooué, and also, between Lambaréné and Booué, many watercourses, islets, rapids and so on bear names given to them by the piroguiers of the Okandè, such as Talaghougha, Abanga, Offoué, Okano, Lélédi, Ivindo, Booué, Ngomo, and Ashouka.

  The banks of the Okandé are covered in virgin forests interrupted at lengthy intervals by clearings where the Akellas have established small villages, very useful to travelers for the purchase of provisions.Hippopotamuses abound in the Okandé. Beyond Samiketa the riverbanks get much higher.[1]

Language

In the classification of Bantu languages established by Malcolm Guthrie, Mokande-Kande belongs to the Tsogo (B30) language group and is coded B32.

Notes and references

Bibliography

-   (English) David E. Gardinier and Douglas A. Yates, _Historical dictionary of Gabon_, Scarecrow Press, Lanham, Md., Plymouth, 2006 (3rd ed.)
-   (English) James Stuart Olson, “Okandé”, in _The Peoples of Africa: An Ethnohistorical Dictionary_, Greenwood Publishing Group, 1996, p. 464

Related articles

-   Demographics of Gabon
-   List of ethnic groups of Africa

[1]

title: Okandé

question: Where are the Okande from?

answer: They are from north-eastern Gabon.

question: Describe what archives have said of the Okande.

answer: The archives have described the Okande as fierce conservators of their environment and were formerly dubbed the "kings of the Ogooue, the vanquishers of the rapid". They were also seasoned canoers and were longtime slave traders in the past.

question: What is the relationshop between the Okande and the Kotakota?

answer: They both attempted the Ogooue river in its most complex stretch.

question: What language group does Mokande-Kande belong to?

answer: It belongs to the Tsogo (B30) language group.

question: Describe the environment of the Okande people.

answer: The banks of the Okande are covered in virgin forests and hippopotamous are abound.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: This article details the Okande people of north-eastern Gabon. They belong to the Membe language group. Despite their history being little known, through archives they have been described as canoers and fierce conservators of their environment.


text:
I can’t count how many times in the past I’ve been really good friends with someone before they had children, and then no matter how much I liked them or how good of friends we were, all of a sudden when their kid was born we were no longer friends. It’s happened time and time again.

Quite frankly I don’t care if someone wants to have kids. I really don’t. I don’t comprehend why anyone would willingly subject themselves to raising a kid and all that goes along with it (not the least of which include incessant crying, shit-filled diapers, the ridiculously high price tag, among everything else), especially since that’s an investment that yields absolutely no return whatsoever, but I don’t judge them for it. It’s their life and they can live it however they wish, and who am I to tell them what they can and can’t do with their lives? I believe in personal freedom and liberty for all people, so far be it from me to get in the way of someone else’s life.

So here we go. A friend gets pregnant and then announces it to everyone they know. All her friends are all over her congratulating her and whatever, except for me. I don’t say anything whatsoever, other than an “oh, okay” and I left it at that. I didn’t make a fuss about it, and I definitely didn’t pull the same card breeders pull of “you’ll regret it someday.” She gets all bent out of shape that I didn’t say exactly what I was supposed to (“congratulations, you’ll be a wonderful mother”). It’s as though I was supposed to be reading from a script or something.

Fastforward nine months. The baby is born and she is showing off her baby pictures on Facebook and whatever. Of course I don’t want to to look at them (and she should know this), so why didn’t she select the “hide this from” option on her Facebook and hide them from me, that way I didn’t have to look at that? No, I don’t want to see pictures of your baby any more than I want to see pictures of your dog taking a dump. Yet again, she gets really angry with me for not being all “Awww, how cute” and congratulating her. Except this time I didn’t say anything at all. Not even “oh, okay” as I knew that upset her last time. I bit my tongue, even though I eventually had to hide her posts from my inbox because I got tired of having to look at another baby picture every other fucking day.

Of course, for the next month I heard nothing out of her, which is to be expected. She’s incredibly busy which I completely understand. A newborn baby is a lot of work, and I know that and have experienced something similar raising a newborn puppy. The next thing I hear out of her is making up excuses for why we can’t be friends anymore, and she never once mentioned the real reason why. She lied to her other friends about me, said I “turned on her.” She said I “played her.” Of course, neither of these accusations are true. I just didn’t feel the same excitement she did over her new kid, so therefore I wasn’t worthy of her time and had to go.

Well, my case is hardly unique. I hear similar stories from childfree people all the time. A friend has a kid and suddenly their friendship dissolves. It’s happened to me more than once, actually. It’s a sad state of affairs, but I also believe it speaks to a double standard. They think it’s perfectly OK to badger us about not having children, saying we’ll regret it or that we’ll change our minds or that they feel sorry for us. Yet, when we make the same sentiments and/or don’t share their excitement for bringing their little “bundle of joy” into their lives, we’re horrible people, and in my experience new mothers have the absolute WORST superiority complex of all. I hate to say it, but it’s the God’s honest truth.

Now, this is not to say it’s this way with all parents or all new mothers. I am friends with some childed people. I respect their decision and they respect mine. They understand that I probably don’t want to hear about their children or don’t want to look at pictures of their children. In that way, they keep that part of their life “secret” from me, if you will. I, in turn, don’t ever badger them about it, and we get along great. It just seems these people are in the minority, though.

Alas, this is just another example of how this world looks down on the childfree.

Do any of you other CFers have similar experiences? Share them in the comments!

question: How does the author feel about having children?

answer: They don't understand why anyone would want to do it.

question: How did the author respond to their friend's pregnancy?

answer: They respond with "oh, okay."

question: What does the author's friend do after she gives birth?

answer: She turns on the author and claims they cannot be friends.

question: How does the author feel about friends who have children and then the friendship dissolves?

answer: They believe there is a double standard for those who choose to have children and those who don't.

question: Write a ~4 sentence summary.

answer: The author does not understand why anyone would want to have children. They feel apathetic toward children in general, and when their friend mentioned that she was pregnant, the author responded with indifference. When the child was born, the author said nothing, and the friend chose to end the friendship. The author believes there is a double standard for those who choose to have children and those who don't.


text:
The HONG KONG GAMES (HKG, ) is a multi sports event in Hong Kong which was first held in 2007 and has taken place every two years since then. All 18 districts of Hong Kong form the participating units for the Games.

Purpose

The Hong Kong Games are held to provide more opportunities for participation, sharing and cooperation in sports in the community and to promote communication and friendship among the 18 districts. It also allows the relevant units to strengthen the cohesion of the community. Moreover, it promotes the idea of “sports for all” in the society in order to raise the standard of sports in Hong Kong.[1]

Symbols

The emblem of the Games is composed of three rings resembling number “18” which symbolises the 18 participating districts in the Hong Kong Games. In addition, it also represents the three regions of Hong Kong: Hong Kong Island, Kowloon and the New Territories; on the other hand, it symbolises the partnership between the organiser, co-ordinator and co-organisers of the Games. The thin lines next to the rings strengthen the feeling of motion and bespeak the vitality of the 18 districts. The colours red, orange-brown and blue represent the athlete's energy, indoor and outdoor games respectively.[2] The theme song of the Hong Kong Games, “Yan Yan Hei Dung” (人人起動) is sung by Joey Yung with Cheung Ka Seng (張家誠) as the composer and Adrian Chan as arranger.[3]

Organiser

The Sports Commission is the organiser for the Hong Kong Games, and the Community Sports Committee is the coordinator. The 18 District Councils, the Leisure and Cultural Services Department, the Sports Federation & Olympic Committee of Hong Kong, China and the related sports associations are the co-organisers of the Games.[4]

Qualification

The following are the core requirements as the qualification to participate in the Hong Kong Games:[5]

-   Must be nominated by their respective District Councils and participate in the competition in the name of the District Councils;
-   Holders with valid Hong Kong identity card and have resided in Hong Kong for three years;
-   In the area of their residence and only represent that district for competition;
-   Athletes who are elected to represent Hong Kong in the multi sports game such as Olympics, Asian Games, World Championships or the Asian Championships are not allowed to participate;

List of Hong Kong Games

      Year   Opening Ceremony   Closing Ceremony   Participates   Overall Championship   Ref.
  --- ------ ------------------ ------------------ -------------- ---------------------- ----------
  1   2007   4 April            6 May              1287           Kwai Tsing District    [6]
  2   2009   9 May              31 May             2307           Yuen Long District     [7]
  3   2011   14 May             5 June             3017           Yuen Long District     [8]
  4   2013   27 April           2 June             3100           Yuen Long District     [9]
  5   2015   25 April           31 May             3205           Yuen Long District     [10][11]
  6   2017   23 April           28 May             3205           Yuen Long District
  7   2019   28 April           2 June             3200           Yuen Long District
  8   2022   March              TBC

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

[8]

[9]

[10]

[11]

title: Hong Kong Games

question: Describe the origin of the Hong Kong Games.

answer: The Hong Kong Games is a multi-sports event held in Hong Kong that has taken place every 2 years since the inaugural 2007 event. Hong Kong's 18 districts participate with the purpose of promoting communication and friendship.

question: Summarize everything relating to the Hong Kong Games emblem.

answer: With three rings resembling the number '18', the emblem represents the 18 districts and three regions of Hong Kong, as well as the the partnership between the organizer, co-ordinator and co-organizer bodies. The colours of the rings (red, orange, blue) represent energy, indoor games, and outdoor games.

question: Who is responsible for the Hong Kong Games?

answer: The Sports Commission is the main organizer. Other responsible parties include the Community Sports Committee, the eighteen District Councils, the Leisure and Cultural Services Department, the Sports Federation & Olympic Committee of Hong Kong, China, and other related sports associations.

question: How do athletes qualify for the Hong Kong Games?

answer: Each athlete much be nominated by (as a representative of) their District Council, hold valid Hong Kong identification, have resided in their nominator district for three years, and cannot be/have been elected to represent Hong Kong in international sports events.

question: How many districts are in Hong Kong?

answer: 18

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: The Hong Kong Games is a multi-sports event held in Hong Kong that has taken place every 2 years since the inaugural 2007 event. It is a joint effort by the organizer, co-ordinator, and co-organizers from each district. Hong Kong's 18 districts participate with the purpose of promoting communication and friendship.


text:
The Million Mile Road

I have walked this path for as long as I can remember. The days and nights blend together, into slurry of marching feet. There are others who walk on this endless journey. Ahead of me, and behind me, the millions fade into the distance. Occasionally, one will fall. Some are picked up by the ones who walk with them. Some, they pick themselves up, dust themselves off, and continue on their journey. But some don't get back up. They lie in the dirt, motionless. The others walk around them, either oblivious to their plight, or simply numb to their existence. We walk on, and they disappear from sight. I have looked to both horizons, for days at a time, but they are never there. Those that fall and do not get up simply disappear. We walk this path, the sound of thousands of feet meshing into a cacophony of sound.

I grow tired of this journey. Every day I feel myself grow a little weaker, a little slower. The constant sound of feet hitting the ground, this marching drumbeat, lulls me. I just wish to sleep, to rest my head. So I lie down, on the side of the road. I will not be long, for all I wish to do is rest. Just for a little while. The others continue on, marching on the same path that is the only thing they have known. But I must rest. I lay my head to the ground, and close my eyes. I must rest, if only to regain enough strength to continue on.

Suddenly, there is a shift. The sound is not the same as it was before. I open my eyes, and look up. Someone has stopped. Why? She is staring at me with piercing blue eyes. Why is she staring at me? Why can’t I simply rest? A voice. She is speaking.

“Why are you laying there?”

Isn’t it obvious? I am tired. I wish to sleep. And you are bothering me. Let me rest.

“No one who lies down does so simply because they are tired.”

Well, I have. I want to rest. I want to be left alone to my sleep. The others have left me here, and now I just want to close my eyes and see no longer.

She looks at me puzzlingly, as if I were some piece in a museum that hadn’t been there before. She won’t just go away and let me sleep, but I don’t want to get up to shoo her away. I’m just tired, and all I want to do is be left alone so that I can finally rest. This road goes on, never-ending, and I am sick of the constant walking. I’m sick of the unwavering pace. All I want to do is rest. Is that such a crime? She is speaking again.

“You know, I tried to lay down once. All I wanted to do was rest. But then someone stopped, and made me get up. They wouldn’t let me sleep.”

What is she talking about? Is she one of those who fell? Is she one of the ones who were pulled back up? I have never seen her before, but I am certain that I saw all of those who fell. My mind is buzzing with questions. Distracting, confusing questions that only keep me from sleep. And still she is talking. And still she is explaining.

“… and so they told me, 'if you stay here, the wolves will find you.' But I did not care. But he did. And he did not let me stay. He told me, 'if you are too weak to walk, I will help you. If you are too tired to walk, I will carry you. But I will not leave you to the wolves.'”

The wolves? I have never seen a wolf. I have seen nothing on this trail but the vast expanse of nothingness that rings it on both sides. But she is persistent. I have never had another on this trail interact with me in this way before. I do not know how to respond. So I tell her,
“I am tired. Just let me sleep.”

She cocks her head to the side. Her mouth forms the shape of a small ‘o’. As she stands there, I notice that the people on the trail have become a blur. All of them are slowly disappearing into a mist. All of them but her.

“If you are weak, then I will help you walk. If you are tired, then I will carry you. But I will not leave you to the wolves.”

How? How could this person show such care to one which they have never met? Slowly, shakily, she helps me to my feet. A mix of emotions flow through me. This girl has decided that I am worth helping. This girl has decided that I should be alive. I feel a wave of emotion wash over me. I have never felt like this before. I have never felt this warm feeling. The aches in my bones, the sleep in my eyes, the haze in my brain, all of it starts to disappear.

I continue to walk this path, day after day, night after night. When I grow tired, the others help keep me on the path. I am grateful for the help of strangers. Of people who had every right to ignore my existence. I walk along this path, but I no longer feel tired. My steps are no longer weak, no longer slow. They have given me a purpose that I previously lacked.

I walk along the path. A man falls to the ground, just off the side. Others walk around him, either oblivious to his plight, or numb to his existence. I stop in my tracks. Looking directly at him, I ask,
“Why are you laying there?”

Isn’t it obvious? He is tired. He wishes to sleep.

“Why are you bothering me?”

I smile to myself.

“Because you cannot sleep. The path may be long, and you may be tired, but you have been walking alone this whole time. I cannot allow you to stop here.”

He looks at me.

“Why?”

My mind goes through the many memories of my time on this path. Of those who I have met, and those whom I have walked with. I know why he must walk the path, but he will need to find out for himself.

“If you are weak, I will help you walk. If you are tired, I will carry you.”

But I will not leave you to the wolves.

title: A short story.

question: What does "this path" refer to in the first sentence?

answer: The road on which the narration is walking with countless others. "Path" may be a metaphorical reference to life's journey but the text doesn't explicitly say.

question: Why is the narrator telling this story?

answer: The text doesn't explicitly say but there may be a lesson intended about receiving help from others on life's journey and then extending that help to others.

question: Explain the narrator's relationship with the person referred to as "she."

answer: He meets her on the path and she helps him get up when he is tired, potentially saving his life. Her unexpected kindness inspires warm feelings in him. He never says her name and it is unclear whether or not they ever meet again.

question: What is the origin of the wolves in the story?

answer: The text doesn't say.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: In this story, the narrator is walking along the path with countless others. He is growing weary of the noise and the pace and decides to lie down to rest, even though he's never seen anyone get up once they go down. A stranger persistently encourages him to get back up, which he does, and his interaction with her inspires him to extend help to someone else who has fallen down.


text:
JULIE THOMPSON KLEIN is a professor and scholar in the field of Interdisciplinary Studies at Wayne State University. Klein is widely known as a pioneer in interdisciplinary education, and has consulted widely in academic and other settings in the field. In 2016, she was a speaker at the Centennial Symposium of the Association of American Colleges and Universities.[1] During her 36 years at Wayne state, her publications have been heavily cited.[2]

Publications (partial)

BOOKS:

-   -   -   -   -   -   _Interdisciplining Digital Humanities: Boundary Work in an Emerging Field._ University of Michigan Press. 2015. .

ARTICLES:

-   “Interdisciplinarity and complexity: An evolving relationship.” structure 71 (1984): 72.
-   “Blurring, cracking, and crossing: Permeation and the fracturing of discipline.” Knowledges: Historical and critical studies in disciplinarity (1993): 185-214.
-   “Prospects for transdisciplinarity.” Futures 36.4 (2004): 515-526.
-   “Integrative learning and interdisciplinary studies.” Peer Review 7, no. 4 (2005): 8-10.
-   “A platform for a shared discourse of interdisciplinary education.” JSSE-Journal of Social Science Education 5, no. 4 (2006).
-   “Afterword: the emergent literature on interdisciplinary and transdisciplinary research evaluation.” Research Evaluation 15, no. 1 (2006): 75-80.
-   “Evaluation of interdisciplinary and transdisciplinary research: a literature review.” American Journal of Preventive Medicine 35, no. 2 (2008): S116-S123.

[1]

[2]

title: Julie Thompson Klein

question: When was Klein hired?

answer: There is not sufficient information to answer.

question: How many articles has Klein written?

answer: Seven

question: What is the most common topic Klein writes about?

answer: Interdisciplinary studies

question: How many articles did Klein publish in 2006?

answer: Two

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: This article introduces American scholar Julia Thomas Klein. It discusses her positions, publications, and her research focus.


text:
     Richard was pulled from a strange dream (he was a used car salesman in Wisconsin) by a wet nose rubbing against his hand. He half opened his eyes, catching a wall of golden fur and a long snout before shutting them tight again and smiling to himself. He rolled over to the other side of the bed, and began to fake loud snoring sounds. This always drove Annabelle crazy. His world shook as she lept onto the bed with a playful growl and began furiously licking his face. "I'm up! I'm up, girl! I'm up!" he shrieked with mock terror, trying halfheartedly to push her away.

     One more lick and she jumped off the bed, sauntering accross the room with a decidedly self-satisfied gait. Another playful growl as she looked back at him just before leaving the room. "I'm up" he yelled again as he sat up and watched her leave. He chuckled softly as he crawled from his bed and made his way to the closet. She would lay outside his bedroom door for a few minutes, he knew, making sure that he stayed awake and was getting ready. If he took too long, there would be consequences.

     Moments later Richard emerged from the bedroom, wearing blue running shorts and a time-worn Nematodes Are People Too T-shirt. "Alright, Ms. Annabelle, lets do this." he said with enthusiasm, leading the way into the next room. He turned on the music, opened the blinds, and started both the treadmills. "This fast enough for you?" he asked sarcastically, smiling wide as he adjusted the speed to her treadmill. She cocked her head slightly, looked directly at him, and stepped onto the quickly moving belt. "Sorry, sorry, my mistake." He doubled the speed, then hopped onto the other treadmill. He began running at a comfortable pace, playing with the dials and nobs and settings and doing his best to ignore the judging eyes. A loud bark from Annabelle broke his false concentration. "Oh come on..." Another bark. "Fine." He doubled his speed as well, far past what he was comfortable with, instantly feeling the strain in his legs. "Bitch."

title: Richard and Anna

question: Explain what happens to Richard in the story.

answer: Richard wakes up to his dog who encourages him to get up. Richard gets up and runs on a treadmill with his dog on another. She encourages him to go faster.

question: What does Annabelle want?

answer: To wake up Richard and then to go running on her treadmill as quickly as possible.

question: How does Richard feel about Annabelle's encouragement?

answer: He calls her a bitch, but seems to appreciate the push.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: Richard is woken by his dog Annabelle. They go for a run together. Richard is encouraged by his dog.


text:
BILHARZIAL COR PULMONALE is the condition of right sided heart failure secondary to fibrosis and sclerosis of the pulmonary artery branches. It results from shifting of the _Schistosoma haematobium_ ova from the pelvic and vescial plexus to the pulmonary artery branches where they settle and produce granuloma and fibrosis.[1]

Bilharzial cor pulmonale occurs in _Schistosoma mansoni_, when the portal pressure rises more than the systemic pressure. So blood will pass from the portal circulation to the systemic circulation carrying _Schistosoma mansoni_ ova to reach the lungs.

This condition leads to pulmonary hypertension, right ventricular hypertrophy and failure.[2][3]

[1]

[2]

[3] Electrocardiograms of right ventricular hypertrophy in Bilharzial cor pulmonale. Retrieved 26 December 2016

title: Bilharzial cor pulmonale

question: What is Bilharzial cor pulmonale?

answer: It is the condition of right-sided heart failure secondary to fibrosis and sclerosis of the pulmonary artery branches.

question: What causes Bilharzial cor pulmonale?

answer: It results from the shifting of the Schistosoma haematobium ova from the pelvic and vesical plexus to the pulmonary artery branches where they settle and produce granuloma and fibrosis.

question: Where does Bilharzial cor pulmonale occur?

answer: It occurs in Schistosoma mansoni, when the portal pressure rises more than the systemic pressure. So blood will pass from the portal circulation to the systemic circulation carrying Schistosoma mansoni ova to reach the lungs.

question: What conditions can Bilharzial cor pulmonale lead to?

answer: Pulmonary hypertension, right ventricular hypertrophy, and failure.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: Bilharzial cor pulmonale is the condition of right-sided heart failure secondary to fibrosis and sclerosis of the pulmonary artery branches caused by the shifting of the Schistosoma haematobium ova from the pelvic and vesical plexus to the pulmonary artery branches where they settle and produce granuloma and fibrosis. Bilharzial cor pulmonale leads to pulmonary hypertension, right ventricular hypertrophy, and failure.


text:
[Mark Buehrle brought his dog, Slater - banned in Ontario but not the USA - to Blue Jays camp on Wednesday.]
DUNEDIN, Fla. – A good day at spring training for Blue Jays pitcher Mark Buehrle also was a reminder of the downside of his trade to Toronto.

Buehrle had son Braden, 5, daughter Brooklyn, 3, and dog Slater, 2 around the Blue Jays clubhouse today. He won't see a lot of them – Slater for certain – this summer in Toronto.

Slater is an American Staffordshire Terrier – that's according to the American Kennel Club. But the United Kennel Club calls the breed American Pit Bull Terrier and pit bulls are banned in Ontario.

Thus, Buehrle's family will remain in Florida this year rather than leave behind or give up Slater.

The breed distinction is a controversial one but widely enough accepted that Buehrle had to live in Broward County while pitching for the Miami Marlins last season. But that was a county away, not a country away.

Slater was rescued from being euthanized in 2011 by Buehrle's wife, Jamie, and they have been active supporters of animal rescue facilities and adoption programs.

Buehrle recently told USA TODAY Sports he pondered retiring rather than leave dog and family behind.

"I guess I could have retired," he said, though he would have walked away from $48 million on his contract.

"I threw it out there a few times, but my wife said, 'You're an idiot. That's crazy talk.'"

The Buehrles have three other dogs. All are vizslas, a pointer-retriever breed that's welcome in Ontario.

question: Why did Mark Buehrle's family stay behind when he was traded to Toronto?

answer: Because they didn't want to give up their dog, a breed banned in Ontario.

question: Where will his family continue living?

answer: Florida.

question: What is the dog's breed in the US?

answer: American Staffordshire Terrier

question: What is the dog's breed in Canada?

answer: American Pit Bull Terrier

question: Write a ~5 sentence summary.

answer: Mark Buehrle encountered an unexpected downside to his trade to Ontario. His family will not be moving with him to Canada, rather staying in Florida, because his dog is banned in Ontario and the family doesn't want to give him up. In the US, his dog is considered an American Staffordshire Terrier, but in Canada it's considered an American Pit Bull Terrier, and Pit Bulls are banned in Ontario. The family rescued the dog in 2011 and is very attached to it. Buehrle considered retiring outright because of the conflict.


text:
UTBAH IBN ABU LAHAB () was a first cousin and companion of the Islamic prophet Muhammad.

Biography

Born in Mecca, Utbah was the eldest son of Abu Lahab ibn Abdul-Muttalib and Umm Jamil bint Harb.[1] For several years his family lived next door to Muhammad and Khadija.[2]

Although never consummated and lasting less than three years, Utbah was legally married to his eight year old cousin Ruqayyah, the fourth child and second daughter of Muhammad, sometime prior to August 610 AD.[3][4]

After Muhammad recited _sura_ 111, “_Perish the hands of Abu Lahab_,”[5] Abu Lahab wanted to cut ties with him. When Muhammad “openly preached to the Quraysh and showed them hostility,” other Quraysh sympathised with Abu Lahab's desire not to keep Muhammad's daughters at his own expense. They told Utbah that if he divorced Ruqayyah, they would give him any woman he liked;[6] and his father also told him that if he did not divorce her, he would never speak to him again.[7] Utbah replied that he would like either the daughter or the granddaughter of Sa'id ibn Al-As ibn Umayya.[8] The Quraysh agreed, and so he divorced Ruqayyah. She was by then about twelve, and the marriage had not been consummated.[9]

Upon the Conquest of Mecca in January 630, Utbah and his brother Muattib withdrew to the edge of Mecca with the other polytheists. Muhammad asked his uncle al-Abbas to bring them to him. They were brought, and at Muhammad's invitation, they converted to Islam and took the oath of allegiance. Al-Abbas remarked that Muhammad's face was “reflecting joy” at their conversion. Utbah joined the Islamic army and fought at Hunayn. He was among those who did not abandon Muhammad in the battle.[10]

However, when the rest of the Hashim clan emigrated to Medina, Utbah and his brother Muattib remained in Mecca.[11]

Utbah had a slave named Abd al-Wahid ibn Ayman, whom his sons sold after his death.[12]

[1] Muhammad ibn Saad. _Kitab al-Tabaqat al-Kabir_. Translated by Haq, S. M. (1967). _Ibn Sa'd's Kitab al-Tabaqat al-Kabir Volume I Parts I & II_, p. 100. Delhi: Kitab Bhavan.

[2] Ibn Saad/Haq vol. 1 p. 232.

[3]

[4] Muhammad ibn Saad. _Kitab al-Tabaqat al-Kabir_ vol. 8. Translated by Bewley, A. (1995). _The Women of Madina_, p. 24. London: Ta-Ha Publishers.

[5] Ibn Saad/Bewley vol. 8 p. 24.

[6] Ibn Ishaq/Guillaume p. 314.

[7] Ibn Saad/Bewley vol. 8 p. 25.

[8] Ibn Ishaq/Guillaume p. 314.

[9] Ibn Saad/Bewley vol. 8 p. 25.

[10] Muhammad ibn Jarir al-Tabari. _Tarikh al-Rasul wa'l-Muluk_. Translated by Landau-Tasseron, E. (1998). _Volume 39: Biographies of the Prophet's Companions and Their Successors_, p. 64. Albany: State University of New York Press.

[11] Tabari/Landau-Tasseron p. 64.

[12] Bukhari 3:46:739.

title: Utbah ibn Abi Lahab

question: Why did the marriage end between Utbah and Ruqayyah?

answer: After a falling out between Ruqayyah's father Muhammad and Utbah's father Abu Lahab, Abu Lahab didn't want to keep Ruqayyah at her father's expense. Utbah was told that if he did not divorce her, his father would never speak to him again. If he did, he could get any woman he liked.

question: During what historical period did Utbah exist?

answer: He lived during around 610 A.D. and the era of the Islamic prophet Muhammad.

question: Why did Utbah choose not to emigrate to Medina?

answer: It's possible it was because he had joined the Islamic army, and didn't want to to abandon Muhammad even after battle due to his allegiance.

question: Why is Abd al-Wahid ibn Ayman mentioned?

answer: The article doesn't go into detail beyond him being a slave. However, if he's mentioned in this short article it's possible he was an important figure.


text:
[Article image]

_Could not load trending articles_

Thursday, August 17, 2017 1:41 PM

A conservative Ithaca College student claims that “Antifa” members assaulted him during a vigil honoring Heather Heyer, simply because he wore a Young America’s Foundation hat.

Caleb Slater, president of the Ithaca College Republicans chapter, told _Campus Reform_ that he wore the hat to the vigil in nearby Syracuse, New York—held in memory of the young woman murdered in Charlottesville by a white supremacist—in order to show that conservatives also oppose the racism and violence of the alt-right.

[RELATED: Trump volunteer assaulted, robbed for wearing MAGA hat]

But about an hour into the vigil, one attendee noticed his hat and proceeded to give him the middle finger, with another apparently asking him why he had “that f***ing hat on.”

According to Slater, Antifa protesters eventually threw his hat to the ground while they grabbed him by his camera strap, which choked him as he fell to the ground.

Video footage of the incident obtained by YAF corroborates Slater’s account of the events, showing multiple Antifa members shoving their hands into his camera lens and forcing him to the ground.

“You’re not welcome here, get out! You’re not welcome here, get out!” one protester can be heard shouting repeatedly as spectators cheered her on.

Slater also alleges that while he was being harassed, other Antifa members began shouting “No Trump, no KKK, Nazi go away” at him—even though he is a first generation Dominican American.

“This isn’t about me. We can’t even come together in peace without someone being offended by something and using that as an excuse to attack,” Slater told _Campus Reform_, noting that his assailants used a “form of non-violence to justify violence.”

[RELATED: Female student attacked for wearing Trump hat on campus]

“This is not an isolated event; it’s a trend, and another hole in the boat of a sinking ship. I support free speech even when I disagree with what people saying,” he continued, adding that “with Antifa and the alt-right it’s not a free-speech issue when they put their hands on you.”

YAF has since condemned the incident in a statement, saying the incident “highlights the true intolerance of the left today” by revealing that “when a conservative goes out of their way to find common ground with their ideological rivals, leftists lash out merely due to a conservative logo and slogan on a ball cap.”

Slater did note, however, that the liberal protesters were not uniformly hostile, telling YAF that the leaders of the Syracuse Black Lives Matter group, which organized the vigil, actually met with him to apologize “for the unlawful behavior of this extremist group,” though he added that they also chastised him for “wearing apparel from an organization that many ‘interpret to be radical.’”

_FOLLOW THE AUTHOR OF THIS ARTICLE ON TWITTER: @MATT_NOYES__

[Staff image]

What you stand for is what defines you

Conservative students on college campuses are marginalized, threatened, and silenced by threatening students who oppose their views, or radicalized liberal professors or administrators. Campus Reform—and readers like you—are pushing back. Progressives would rather threaten you with violence, silence your conservative views, or call for you to be "canceled" from our society if you oppose them. They say your views are dangerous, hateful, fearful, or racist.

They have it all wrong. What we stand for defines us—it always has.

WE CAN NO LONGER REMAIN SILENT. It is time for conservatives young and old to unite as a single voice to boldly proclaim what we stand for and oppose the mob.

Will you join with us, select the principles you stand for, and sign your name below?

I stand for the preservation of free speech all across our country—where I'm allowed to express my beliefs without fear of condemnation if my opinion differs from yours.

I stand for protections for conservative students who are illegally being threatened or silenced on college campuses all across our country.

I stand for the federal funding to be pulled from colleges and universities when they silence conservative views or students.

question: What is the article about?

answer: A conservative college student claims that "Antifa" members assaulted him during a vigil because he wore a Young America's Foundation hat.

question: When was it written?

answer: August 17, 2017

question: Is the article factually written, or does it include opinion?

answer: It contains both fact and opinion.

question: What sources are cited?

answer: A video showing the assault is referenced.

question: Write a ~4 sentence summary.

answer: A conservative college student, Caleb Slater, claims that "Antifa" members assaulted him during a vigil for a young woman murdered during by a white supremacist because he wore a Young America's Foundation (YAF) hat. Slater says that the "Antifa" protesters told him he wasn't welcome at the vigil. He claims he wore the hat to show that conservatives also oppose racism and the violence of the alt-right. YAF has condemned the incident highlighting the intolerance of conservative views on college campuses, indicating they are marginalized, threatened, and silenced.


text:
ERNEST CLARENCE BREEZE (8 May 1910 – 2 December 1984) was an English footballer who played at left-back for Port Vale and Shrewsbury Town in the 1930s.

Playing career

Breeze joined Port Vale in August 1932.[1] He made his debut in January 1934, and played three further Second Division games in the 1933–34 season.[2] He was a first team favourite from November 1934, taking over from Jim Kelso, and ended the 1934–35 season with 26 league and cup appearances.[3] He played just ten games in the 1935–36 season, and was released from The Old Recreation Ground in the summer.[4] He moved on to Shrewsbury Town.[5]

Statistics

Source:[6]

  Club        Season            Division          League   FA Cup   Total
  ----------- ----------------- ----------------- -------- -------- ------- ---- --- ---
  Apps        Goals             Apps              Goals    Apps     Goals
  Port Vale   1933–34           Second Division   4        0        0
  1934–35     Second Division   25                0        1        0
  1935–36     Second Division   10                0        0        0
  Total       39                0                 1        0        40

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

title: Ernest Breeze

question: What year was Ernest Breeze born?

answer: 1910.

question: What was his profession?

answer: Footballer.

question: What was his nationality?

answer: English.

question: What year did he make his football debut with Port Vale?

answer: 1934.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: Ernest Clarence Breeze (1910-1984) was an English footballer who played at left-back for Port Vale and Shrewsbury Town in the 1930s.


text: Just a man with his thoughts. Should I drink? No. Should I smoke? No. But at the end of the day it’s who I am. It’s as short walk, one I have made more times than I can count, but in my mind the steps seem infinite. Where did I go wrong? So much potential they said. So much promise they said; and honestly it’s so much easier to sit on the other side of the table and judge than to experience the true gravity of it all. To sling unjust judgment towards this life, a future that is currently being written and all the while already wrote. I see those flashing lights, I see them night in and night out guiding me home with no true direction. I know where the perceived home is, I know where my lover sleeps, but it is not home. Home only exists in an idea, a place where I once was but will never find again. I stop by the local pub and shoot the same arduous shit I always do. Sports. Politics. Economy. Pseudo intellectual bullshit that happens with a frequency that i could likely have both sides of it with myself. I need to stop coming here, never again, never more. “Quoth the raven never more.”   I smirk, a smile I can only feel knowing that the pedantic idiocy of the yokels know not of this reference and it falls on ill-bred ears. I stand superior to the masses in my mind; their self perceived god ruling an empire of ignorance. I step back into the cold, longing for the brothers that once stood with me years ago. We may talk, we may lament, we may feel. Feel something that once was and will never be again. We have changed. Not necessarily to the people we should be, but to the people we now are. And yet I walk. Walk home to a love out of convenience. A love that happened at the right place at the right time. Not that childish love of youth, the truest kind love that will only exist in a flash, a blink of time only to be perused and never obtained. No this is a different love, one out of a mutual comfort, a comfort of not having to die alone. I burn another one, my only solace in the desolate wasteland that I have chosen. I stand as man who has forsaken my family, forsaken all those who have judge me [those who could judge me.] I will never be their man. I will never be the coattails upon which they hoped to ride. My parents will die old and alone as I cannot give the life they strived for me to feed them. I am cold. Cold with the realization that I am destined to be among the desolate; I fucking hate the cold. I remember, as I will never forget,  the times that I saw life on the silver platter. The times that my family gifted an existence that I could have obtained but never wanted. I will embrace the darkness. I will live the heart ache as if it was written to be mine and mine alone. My own selfishness feelings are the crushing weight of the infinite as though it is the only love I have ever known. I arrive “home.” One. Two. Three. Four. I know what waits for me on the other side of this lead laden door. A woman who desires only my embrace, but at the same time stands on the edge of the travesty that is our existence, fully accepting the misery I have brought upon her. I light up number three…or is it number four…who gives a shit. I would rather die at 30 than live to see myself broken down to nothing. I quietly open the door. The comforting smell of familiarity makes me sick. I hate my comfort, I hate my strife, I hate the obligatory relief I am expected to feel in this dump. I brush off the snow, climb the steps to my every day. It is so set in stone. Fifteen steps towards the love of my life. I chuckle whilst I brush my teeth. Love. What a childish idea that was crushed long ago. Smashed upon the rocks of reality. I pet the dog, I lock the door, I embrace suburbia with the heartache of a man that was destined for more.  I could have embraced the shallow 9-5 and all the predetermined dialogue that lies within. I curl up next to the physical embodiment of our failures. “Tomorrow,” I say, “tomorrow it will be different.” Knowing full well in my heart that tomorrow I will feel the biting cold once again. I find solace in the trivial; solace in the fact that today is but a few brief hours from tomorrow. The day that holds nothing but possibilities but offers the same cold, hopeless walk. I drift off into slumber hoping for better days, all the while with the knowledge that what has been written has been, and always will be written in stone. “Tomorrow,” I say, “that is the day that I will finally come to fruition.”

title: Tomorrow.

question: Why does the narrator feel he wasted his potential?

answer: Unclear.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: A man walks home agonizing about moments of the past when he feels he wasted his potential. As he gets home he assures himself that tomorrow will be different.


text:
The photographer was a quiet young man, always agreeable and never rude.  Slightly tall,  skinny, and super pale.  He sighed sad sounding sighs.

His mom gave him a camera for his 18th birthday. It was nice. It was also his only friend.

Stuck at a Quinciñera, a sad sigh came out.  The sizeable Mexican family had agreed twenty photos of the event, and ten of the girl.
 However, numerous relatives all wanted portraits in front of the sunset outside. He tried to communicate the situation, that he was only paid for thirty photos.  That didn't work.

This was now a full blown shoot.  People were lining up.  He held up his memory card and said it ran out of space, and that he couldn't continue the picture taking.

Someone in the back let out a yell of excitement only to run up and place the same type of memory card in his hands.
He let out another sad sigh.

title: The Photographer

question: Why is the photographer upset?

answer: People are expecting him to take photographs they haven't paid for.

question: What is the photographer's job for the day?

answer: To take photos at a quinceañera.

question: How long has he had the camera

answer: More information is needed to answer the question.

question: Describe the photographer.

answer: He's a quiet young man, always agreeable and never rude. He's Slightly tall, skinny, and super pale. He is sad.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: A photographer is pressured to take additional photos at a party.