text:
Three guards held onto the chains that shackled me. With every step I took an orchestra of chain melodies followed. The chain cuffs on my feet were the start; the handcuffs were soon to follow. Eventually all five chains that prevented me from running came together and formed a harmonious sound.

“Is all this necessary,” I turned toward my good friend officer Barry Kindle “I promise I won’t bite,” I said while mimicking a dog biting towards him.

“You can never be too careful…” he said as he pulled the chain that wrapped around my waist, leaving me breathless “…especially with a psychopath like you.”

Psychopath, I never did like that term. It tends to insinuate that I have some sort of a problem, a disease even. When in fact I am perfectly aware of what I have done and I have no remorse over it. I’m just different than most people.

The bus that stood at the end of my pilmigrage was reminiscent of one I used to ride as a kid on my way to Sunday school. It was white with a hint of rust scattered all about. The seats were torn and to tall for the average person to see over. It was disappointing to know that my last sight of the outside world would come from a spot-ridden plexi-glass window.

“Ready to go Jason,” Kindle said as he leaned over me to push down the window “I thought you’d want some air,” he said as his fake smile turned into a mocking grin.

“I’ll make sure to tell your wife how caring you are..,” before I could finish Kindle’s fist caressed my face. Over and over repeated blows were landing on target, with each one inflicting more of his pain on me. The white floors of the bus were being sprinkled with my blood, as the guards rushed over to try to pull Kindle off. Tears descended uncontrollably down his face as he repeated the name of his lovely wife, Emma.

I can still remember the full moon that covered that night. Fluttering street lights trying ever so hard to illuminate one’s destination, a losing battle in my opinion. There I was driving back and forth trying to find 438 Wintercrest Drive.

“Turn right in fifty feet,” the robotic woman in my GPS demanded. “You’re destination is on the right,” a beep immediately followed, emphasizing that I was here. I had found it. My heart was beating out my chest as my pulse skyrocketed. My grand finale was here and I was determined to make it memorable.

Pavlov had a theory that if you rang a bell and fed a dog the dog would associate food with the sound of a bell. Eventually, all one would have to do to get the dog to salivate is ring the bell. I had done this enough times to know that the bell had rung, and my reward was forthcoming.

I had parked. From what I could determine the neighborhood was a quiet one. Car royalty crowded the streets. Mercedes to the left of me, Porsche to the right and Lexus scattered in between. There I stood next to my Volvo expecting a guy in a golf cart and supped up blue suit to pull up and drag me out of this place. No such luck. No one ever cared to look outside their windows in this new era of ours. Everyone seemed to be confined to their own four walls and the entertainment held within them. Even in the nicer neighborhoods, which I previously visited, no one noticed the guy in the ski mask walking around with a knife.

As expected, there was only one car in the driveway. My good friend Kindle was out chasing another loose end I had fed him. Zodiac had started a trend. It was within our profiles to send packages. According to the profiles the packages symbolized our need to be caught. A need that arose from us not liking what we did. If only I could teach a class to all the forensic psychologists. In actuality we loved every second of what we did, and if we were caught we would miss out on all the fun. We sent the packages as nothing more than a mere distraction, something to keep the cat busy while the mice went out and played. There are two things that I have passion for in life. The first thing is puzzles. I love solving them and working through all the possible solutions until I find one that fits. The harder the puzzle, the more in love I fell. At times days or even years would pass until I witnessed that AHA moment of a puzzle. It was then that I felt most alive. Adrenaline would rush through my veins and a feeling of pride would overcome my otherwise humble self. I had solved something; something had made sense in this otherwise mad world. Once, I had even solved a part of one of the top ten unsolvable puzzles- Kryptos. However, I never earned recognition for that one, Kindle did.
Creating puzzles is my second passion. As a kid I would always attempt to make brain teasers, riddles or even math jumbles. Eventually I gave up. I seemed to have lacked a creative gene and even though I was able to solve puzzles, creating them was not in my blood. Then one day on the television I heard the magic words “Four people were shot today…no witnesses…if you have any details please call….” AHA.

I had found my legacy, my own brand of puzzles. Puzzles that would gather people, garner emotion and would be everlasting; puzzles, which would outlive me and have lost souls constantly searching for answers. I had found the perfect puzzle.

The basement window was open. Just like it had been the past four nights I had scouted the place. I kneeled down and hobbled over towards the basement windows. I could here the annoying sounds of some popular television show rumbling on the inside. I waited for the noise to be loud enough and I slid into the basement making a loud thump as I landed. No one noticed. I tried not to make a sound as the dog went on a barking rampage. He knew someone other than his owner had infiltrated his domain. Emma went towards the dog to try and calm him down. Patting him on the head and re-assuring him that everything was fine. Indeed, everything was fine. My eyes took a while before they accustomed to the darkness of the basement. Soon enough I could see crystal clear with only the moon as my light. There was a lot of useless stuff in the basement, boxes full of pornography. old Wheaties cereal boxes with famous athletes on them, and a cradle that Kindle had made for the baby his wife had lost. All of it was useless now. One foot over the other I made my way towards the stairs, preventing anything from falling along the way. When I reached the stairs I noticed a newspaper clipping that had been pinned to the wall. It read: Barry Kindle solves Kryptos. That however, wasn’t the part that captured my interest. It was the side-story on the bottom right- in eight inch font-that captured my interest. Body of suspected murderer found in river. That was Adam.

Crimes of passion are the junk of our profession. They are always sloppy and never covered up well enough. There is no purpose in them, other than to get back at a spouse whom cheated on you. There is no thrill in them and worst of all, there is always remorse. Adam Keaton was a man suspected of killing his fiancé. He had killed her because he caught her sleeping with another man. As the evidenced was gathered, Adam was released on bail. It was then, that he became my puzzle. A puzzle no one has ever solved.
There are certain rules for creating puzzles. One of which is to make the puzzle solvable, but not easy. I left evidence, heck, I even planted some afterward. However, overworked and underpaid detectives don’t care much about someone who was going to rot in jail anyways. The trick to not getting caught is to not get cocky. Change your tactics. There is always someone looking for the serial who killer who kidnapped, raped and threw five blonde teenage girls in the river. However, no one ever uses all their resources to capture the guy who killed: a suspected murderer, a nun, a child, a homeless man, a bank manager. Each one killed in a different location, and all in different execution methods. The reason being, because they don’t suspect the same guy did it.

title: The Puzzler Part 1

question: Why did Officer Kindle attack the prisoner, Jason?

answer: Because Jason said something about Kindle's wife, Emma. Jason probably did something to her after breaking into the Kindle home.

question: Why is Jason in shackles?

answer: Because he's a dangerous psychopath who has already killed five people, including a child, and probably killed or hurt Officer Kindle's wife.

question: What is Jason's most despicable act?

answer: Killing a child.

question: What does Jason think about current police profiles on serial killers and psychopaths with regards to sending packages?

answer: Jason disagrees with the notion that the reason people like him send packages arises from not liking what they did and shows a need to get caught. He thinks this is not true, because he loved every single minute of what he did, and getting caught would mean he would miss out on all the fun. Jason and others like him send the packages as a distraction to keep the cops off their tail.

question: Why doesn't Jason like being called a psychopath?

answer: Because it insinuates that he has a problem or disease when in reality, he's perfectly aware of what he has done and has no remorse over it.


split: train

text:
( So, this has been an idea I've been running with for a while now. I've been interested in continuing it, but I'd like to know what Reddit thinks. Please just give me some constructive criticism here. I just want to know if it'd be worth investing my time in this idea. Aaaand...enjoy the read! )

      Smoke billowed from the window of a broken-down truck that always sat at the edge of Potts farm. Nobody knew how or when the dusty behemoth of a vehicle ended up where it was. All that was known was that it had been there for years on end, never claimed and never moved. Incapable of any motion, the vehicle was often the place that delinquents and vagabonds aplenty decided to make their little niche in the world. Sitting in the front seat, Matthew Delaney smoked the Marlboro in his lips slowly.  A down-to-earth country boy, Matthew fit the part with a pair of dusty overalls and a tank top worn underneath. Scrawny to the letter and hiding his eyes behind a tangled mess of sweat-laced hair, he wasn't exactly the most attractive or noteworthy of people in the small farming colony of Plethora. A glance over brought attention to the old rifle he had stolen from his father's case. A Winchester by make, the rifle was known for its solid performance, even as old as it was. Today, it seemed, was the day that Matthew had decided to die. Another gentle puff of the cigarette brought his mind back, spiraling through the mesh of memories and thoughts he had locked away for the day. What had brought him to this point? The breakup. That's right. Amber McGraw, a girl he had been with for nearly two years had decided that they were looking at different ends of a circle. They would arrive at the same points, but regardless of how much they moved their plans around, there was never a solid corner to settle into. A shake of his head brought Matthew back to the present, a blemish of a day in his perfect plan of life. Everything he had known in the world had come to a close and there was no new chapter to this book. No sequels, no trilogy or saga to keep him wondering what came next.

      Sighing, Matthew flicked the cigarette from the door and grabbed the rifle from the passenger's seat. Kicking the door as he pulled the handle, the old metal swung open with a contesting creak and squealed to rest once open halfway. Squeezing out of the narrow opening, Matthew walked to the front of the truck and leaned back. The cold metal of the grill met his back with a smack and Matthew soon found himself sliding to sit with his knees propped up. Dropping his head back, he let it rest on the truck's grill as he gazed into the night sky. Earth had been a sight back whenever he had first lived there. The large white moon above with stars littering the sky had kept him rather enraptured as a young boy. At the age of twenty-seven, however, Matthew found the night sky of Plethora to be a bit lackluster. There was no moon, only stars. The sky wasn't even that dark here. A darker shade of red, perhaps, but the early sun's rotation did little to give a working man a real moment's sleep. Shaking his head, Matthew looked down once more at the rifle he held. At least he'd be found soon. People would be out and about in an hour at the latest. Since the old “Pott's Truck” was a landmark into and out of the primary farming community that the colony was known for, someone was bound to find the poor man's body where it would undoubtedly be lying. No coyotes or decay for him. He'd at least have the dignity of a decent burial. Firming his resolve, Matthew shifted the rifle until it was placed squarely in his mouth and moved his hand towards the trigger.

      Before he had even so much as touched the trigger guard, however, an explosion rocked the world around him. Wind, dust, and rocks flew towards Matthew, who was quick to drop to the side, evading a rather large rock that had been kicked up and sent his way. Forgotten was the rifle and his previous resolution, the old weapon hitting the ground with a dull clang compared to the sudden rush of noise and action around the man. Whenever his vision cleared up, Matthew went wide-eyed with disbelief. There before him, battling what Matthew had once considered friends and coworkers, was the lapdog of the Unified Colony Directorate. Aiden Desparius, a gene-soldier, was an impressive figure to find on any battlefield. Standing at just under 6 feet flat and sporting a goatee that looked as if it belonged on some cartoon villain's face, he was impressive enough without the gear he had strapped to his body armor. White flesh shifted as he dived to the side, evading a stray rifle's bullet. Muscles tightened and flexed as he punched one farmer, who dared to get close with his knife, in the nose. To see him battling a bunch of farmers and laborers was more than enough shock and confusion for Matthew, who could only watch in wonder before the desire to save his fellows overwhelmed the man's mind. Stumbling for the abandoned Winchester, Matthew raised it shakily to his shoulder and aimed at the soldier fighting his people. Unseen, he fired off the round and managed a hit. A small cheer lifted from his mouth whenever he saw Aiden crumple, one immediately copied by the farmer's around him. It died, however, whenever Aiden rose slowly from the ground. Spitting to the side, he glanced at the hole in his shoulder and turned to where the shot came from. “Mother fucker.”

      They were to be the last two words Matthew heard in his current life. Seeing Aiden vanish before his eyes, Matthew gave a startled yelp and attempted to flee from where he was hunched. He had intended to kill himself that day, but now felt the very real desire to remain alive now that he had an enemy who cared enough about him to want him dead. He knew Aiden's gift, as most did, and did his best to run before the soldier reappeared. He wasn't quick enough. Aiden reappeared explosively, his body forming in midair in the space that Matthew inhabited. Vitae and organs spread like a rain, Matthew's body unable to contain the sudden stress of someone else occupying the exact space it did. The poor man's master plan for dying peacefully and with a proper funeral were shattered in the same instant that Matthew simply ceased to exist. It didn't take long for Aiden to finish his compatriots after their morale shattered, seeing such gruesome brutality.

title: Plethora (First Post)

question: Why did Matthew want to kill himself?

answer: Unclear

question: Why did he change his mind and want to live?

answer: He suddenly had an enemy who was battling his compatriots that he wanted to defeat.

question: How was Matthew killed?

answer: The gene-soldier rematerialized in the same space as Matthew and blew him apart from the inside.

question: Why was Desparius, the gene soldier, battling the farmers?

answer: Unclear

question: Write a ~8 sentence summary.

answer: Matthew smokes a cigarette pondering how everything he had known in the world had come to a close and there was no new chapter to his book. He had decided to commit suicide. Using the old Winchester rifle he had stolen from his father's case, he wrapped his lips around the barrel and prepared to die. Just that instant an explosion rocks him out of his stance. He sees farmers, his people, battling a gene-soldier, Aiden Desparius, and is enlivened to fight.   He shoots Desparius, but only really succeeds in drawing his attention. Desparius disappears then rematerializes in the same space as Matthew, ripping him apart from the inside. He will not get the funeral he had hoped for.


text:
I can still hear my dad getting ready to go out as I lay in bed. I know he will be coming by our room any minute to check on me. It’s almost a nightly ritual. My brother and I had been in bed for about an hour. He is fast asleep. I can’t sleep because I know what is going to happen. I hear my dad’s footsteps coming towards our room. The door creaks open. He whispers, “Dougie? Are you awake?” I never answer the first time. He asks again. This time I respond, “Yeah dad?” He replies, “Ummm…I have to run up to the Package Store for some cigarettes. I’ll be back in a few minutes. You need to get to sleep.” I say, “OK, you’ll come right back, dad?” He assures me he will and leaves. I know he’s not coming right back.
I get up and make sure my brother is covered up and asleep. I leave my room and see what time it is. It’s only 9:30 PM. I look around for a snack and then go turn on the television. I flip the dial around. There’s nothing on. I see headlights coming through the window. For a brief second, I think maybe he did come right back. Then the lights continue up the road and the hope is lost. I know it will be another long night of arguing and fighting and me not sleeping. I go back and lay in the darkness. Hoping my dad is alright and that he gets home before my mom does at 2:30 AM. They have been fighting a lot lately and they keep talking about divorce. I think about that for awhile. I’m not exactly sure what it is. It sounds terrible. I doze off for a bit. Then the phone rings. It’s loud and piercing. I know it’s my mom. I can’t answer it because then I would be telling on my dad. However, when no one answers, she’s knows he’s not there anyway. I would love to pick it up and tell her we’re fine and not to worry about dad being gone. After all, he said he was coming right back. That was two hours ago.
Awhile later, the phone rings again. It seems even louder this time. I pull the covers and pillow over my head to quiet the noise. Then I get up and start looking out the window. Praying that every set of headlights I see is my dad. I watch and I watch. The lights are never his. It’s getting late now; almost 2:00 AM. I start getting really anxious. I don’t want to hear the fighting. I walk around the dark house aimlessly, enjoying the silence. I figure I’d better get to bed. Mom will be home soon. I don’t want her to think I’ve been up this whole time. That will make it worse.
I hear mom’s car pull in. She slams the door because dad’s truck is gone. I hear her pick up the phone and call my grandparents. She asks if they have heard from my dad. Of course they have not. She starts crying. She is doing her best. I hear my dad’s truck pull in. He comes through the front door. I can only imagine what kind of shape he is in. My mom yells something at him. He slurs something back, but his drunkenness will not allow the words to make sense. She calls him a no good, alcoholic bum. He slams something down and breaks it. I grab pillows and stuffed animals and try to shut out the noise. It doesn’t help. I just hope my baby brother doesn’t wake up. They eventually go outside, but I can still hear them. I can hear my dad punching the house. I get up and peek out to make sure he’s not hitting my mom. They come back in and my dad finally passes out on the couch.
My mom washes her face and gets into bed. I try and sleep, but I can hear her crying. I feel like comforting her. I don’t know how. I’m only ten years old. I have to try and sleep now, but it’s hard because I know it will probably happen again tonight.

title: [NF] Come Right Back

question: What does the story say about the narrator's parent's relationship?

answer: The narrator's father is described as an alcoholic bum by his mother. It appears to be routine for the father to leave the kids at home alone while the mother is out late. This causes them to get into verbal abuse fights every time. The parents have been fighting a lot and talking about divorce which has been giving the narrator anxiety. The narrator knows it will probably happen again the next night.


text: The darkness that fills me spills out of wherever it can, the wounds getting deeper everyday, pouring the black into the street. It flows down, infecting everything it touches. It erodes all hope, anything positive is swallowed up and dissolved. This continues unaided, is sped up by jabs and hits from within and others. The worst part, the worst part is it's unstoppability, it's right to be there as a consequence of misplaced actions. Anything good gets more and more distant, with no right to hold it back. I can but try. Trying is all I have. But the trying is almost impossible. The sense of impossibility turns to impending doom at it's worst. The life within is scraped away; barely a skeleton still stands. But the skeleton is now weakening, it can try but it's goal is fading. The skeleton now sits, rarely clambering to stand, and when it does so it's flattened. The world that's left is too bleak to contemplate, anything remotely uplifting is just a mirage. Only the pain is real. I can reach out and feel it spikes, it's hooks and it's sharpness. It cuts when it gets closer, too close and it severs the few remaining arteries, pumping the faltering hope. I'm already dead, but the flesh is stripped away, the soul ripped out and organs gone. The skeleton fights on, almost gone too. She attacks the skeleton but he knows he has no choice but to take it. She tells him he can recover, regain his body if he tries with all his might. But even that is fading into false hope. He wants to save all the other beings from the tragedy he's unleashed upon them but that's futile. All he can do is fight, fight and fight even more. But it makes nothing different. The one he wants seems immune to his attempts, his ever-lasting self hatred burns and burns. She claims to see how little the skeleton has, how little he is; but she lashes out again. The skeleton can't protect himself. He has no right to protect himself. He must bare the few remaining scraps of his being to her and hope she accepts, while everything around him continues to burn relentlessly. No matter how far away he is the fire is just as strong. Just as harsh. He's on his knees, all the nerves burnt away, all his thoughts merged and blurred into insignificance. The only thing he knows for certain is that she's the answer. But she has others answers, better answers in her eyes. She sees others skeletons: but these have have bodies, organs, hearts and souls. She looks back at the skeleton, that once was her favourite, with disgust. And I don't blame her. He lies there, lifeless. Without a single shred of hope left, trying to fight with his last breath but even that is snatched from him. He's going down, to the furthest corner. Only hoping for her to save him from this pit of self-inflicted torture. He wants to save her the trouble. Save everyone the trouble and do it himself. But he's too much of a coward to end it for himself. Instead he lies there and takes it, takes it until he's faded away for sure.

title: The Hurt

question: What are the themes of the story, if any?

answer: Self-loathing and depression, and feeling unable to fit against that pain / depression; that partners are unable to save someone from that pain and will move on.

question: Who are 'she' and 'he' mentioned in the story?

answer: 'He' is implied to be the same as 'I'; 'she' is implied to be a former partner of 'I'/'he'.

question: What is the purpose of changing the individuals involved from 'I' to 'she' and 'he'?

answer: Possibly to create a sense of distance (moving from first person to third person),and to be better able to portray the conflict between 'he' and 'she'

question: How is this story likely to be continued?

answer: That 'he'/'I' further sinks into depression and feelings of loneliness.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: This story is about the narrator sinking into depression and feeling detached from himself and his body; and while his partner tries to help him, their relationship is marred by conflict and she leaves, leaving him more hopeless than before.


text:
Tobias knew that she was beautiful. It was obvious when she closed her mouth. Her small chin seemed to be pulled in, and her upper lip stretched over what her lower lip didn’t cover. It gave her an innocent and curious look. But her eyes conveyed anything but purity, they were large and dark and full of wisdom. This contrast, Tobias knew, was rare, and no doubt stirred feelings of longing in nearly every man who was so lucky to see her.

There was a time when Tobias would have felt warm at the thought of them together, holding hands, kissing, holding each other in bed. He knew he would have found himself smiling when he saw something that reminded him of her, and everything would remind him of her, from the wind, to the warmth and wetness of damp dirt in the sun, from the way a cashier held her head to the way water falls off the mossy rocks in his grandfather’s forest. He would always be smiling, for she’d be his world, and the world was all he saw. Every now and then, in intervals immeasurable by time, she would go swimming, encouraged by the depth and complexity of what lies beyond and beneath the surface of the ocean.

She would float on the water and catch glimpses of fantastic creatures and sights, whales surfacing and far away beaches beckoning, and she would swim and swim in the direction of her gaze, but always the beaches seemed to get further away, and the whales never stayed in the same place. She would hold her breath as long she could and dive under, five feet, ten feet, fifteen, and she’d see schools of brightly colored fish, curious bubbles, turtles and other creatures, but always her lungs emptied and her sight blurred, and she’d have to come up for air, gasping and flailing as she cursed her human impotence and imperfections. She’d be weary, and sick of searching, she’d curse herself again for leaving land, for believing that her undefined desires were attainable, she’d curse herself for having desires at all, why can’t she just be content? and she’d turn around and see Tobias on an island not very far off. He’d be smiling and his palms would be open.

 She would swim easily to him, carried by the current, and he’d wrap a towel around her and lead her inside, where blankets and hot cocoa and a fire would all be laid out for her. Tobias would hold her, and she’d feel silly as she saw her misty desires of perfection solidify into desire for something real, something simple and true, attainable and powerful. She’d see her desire solidify into reality, into the object of a man, and that object would be holding her. Slowly her feelings of silliness, of desire, of comfort and yearning, would become ecstasy, which would radiate throughout her entire body, and she’d wonder why she ever left Tobias island in the first place. But he’d be the epitome of understanding, and when she would leave again to swim towards the unattainable, he’d be waiting for her on the shore, waiting patiently for her return, always with a towel and always with a kind and understanding smile on his face. Each time their ecstatic reunion was different and special, for she always felt sillier and wiser, and he knew that her occasional departures were necessary, and they both knew he knew, and loved each other all the more for it.

This is what Tobias thought of when he saw her, and so he looked at her as though she were a display in a museum.

title: Tobias Island

question: What does the story say about what Tobias imagines when he looks at her?

answer: He imagined them together, holding hands, kissing, holding each other in bed. That everything would remind him of her, from the wind, to the warmth and wetness of damp dirt in the sun, from the way a cashier held her head to the way water falls off the mossy rocks in his grandfather's forest. He imagined that she would go swimming catching glimpses of fantastic creatures and sights. He imagines her diving, seeing schools of brightly colored fish, turtles, and other creatures. He imagines she would curse her human limitations, her desires, and wonder why she couldn't just be content. But Tobias would be at the shore, waiting for her with a towel, blankets, hot cocoa, and a warm fire.


text:
PATSY ANN NORVELL (1942–2013) was a visual artist who worked in sculpture, installation art and public art. She was a pioneering feminist artist active in the Women's movement since 1969. In 1972 she was a founder of A.I.R. Gallery which was the first cooperative gallery in the U.S. that showed solely women's work. Her work has been exhibited in galleries and museums in the U.S. and abroad. She received numerous grants, awards and residencies for her achievements, including the Pollock-Krasner Foundation and the National Endowment for the Arts. She created permanent public art works for the New York City subway system, designed and created lobby and plaza installations in Los Angeles, CA, New Brunswick, NJ, Bridgeport, CT, and Bethesda, MD.[1][2] Her work has received historical and critical acclaim, and has been written about in books, journals and newspapers including, _Art in the Land: A Critical Anthology of Environmental Art_, in Sculpture (magazine), the Los Angeles Times, The New York Times and numerous other publications.[3][4][5]

Education

She attended Oakwood School in Poughkeepsie, New York and graduated from there in 1960. Novell received her Bachelor of Art degree from Bennington College in art and mathematics, and a Masters of Art from Hunter College in sculpture.[6]

Involvement in the Women's Movement

Norvell was a prominent figure in the Women's Movement, actively participating since 1969. Norvell was involved in several artist consciousness raising groups to raise awareness of issues of gender inequality to the greater public. She went on to start consciousness-raising groups of her own.[7]

Norvell exhibited in _13 Women_ show in 1972 in New York City. Also in 1972 she co-founded A.I.R. Gallery the first women's cooperative gallery. [8] A.I.R. Gallery is a permanent exhibition space that supports an open exchange of ideas and risk–taking by women artists in order to provide support and visibility.[9]

Notable Works

Norvell's early work focussed on the natural world and how she could recapture nature for internal spaces. She worked mainly with painted steel and later with glass and wood. She also worked with autobiographical references, approached using nontraditional techniques.[10]

Her 1973 work, _Hair Quilt_ is a 5' by 8' wall piece made from clippings of her friends hair and scotch “magic” tape. The hair is arranged in patterns occupying 20 quilted squares.[11]

In 1979 Norvell wanted to further explore her interest in outdoor versus indoor spaces. She used glass as a material the explores volume, limits surface and transparency. In 1979 she created _Glass Garden. Glass Garden_ functions as a greenhouse or pure structure that can be indoors or outdoors. Her use of glass continued, employing methods of sandblasting it with botanical motifs. Norvell was asked to create several public art installations, including a piece at the Beverley and the Courtelyou subway stations in the borough of Brooklyn in New York city. The work uses a geometric design in the fence that is sandblasted into the glass with images of ivy. The overall design includes sand-blasted bay windows, arched windows, stairway windows and painted steel fencing.[12]

Her other permanent installations include Newsstands in Manhattan, and plaza and lobby installations in Los Angeles, CA; New Brunswick, NJ; Bridgeport, CT; and Bethesda, MD, among others.[13]

Exhibitions

In 1972 her work was exhibited in a pioneering show of women art, _13 Women_, that originated in New York City. In 1973, Norvell worked with others to found the A.I.R. Gallery, the first women's cooperative gallery in the United States. She had a retrospective exhibition at the Vassar College Art Gallery, entitled, Patsy Norvell: Ten Years 1969 - 1979.[14] She has shown at the Brooklyn Museum,[15] A.I.R. Gallery (New York, NY), MoMA P.S. 1 (Long Island City, NY), Wallace Art Gallery, SUNY Old Westbury, Hillwood Art Gallery, (Long Island University). During her lifetime, she had thirteen solo exhibitions, and participated in 98 group exhibitions.

Permanent collections

Smithsonian American Art Museum, Renwick Gallery[16] Norvell completed seventeen permanent public art installations for the Federal Building & Courthouse in Bridgeport, CT; Rutgers University Nicholas Recital Hall, New Brunswick, NJ; Battery Park City Authority, NYC; Home Savings of America Tower, Los Angeles, CA; East Capital Plaza, St. Paul, MN; Thomas Jefferson University, Philadelphia, PA; Miami International Airport, Miami, FL, among others.[17]

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title: Patsy Norvell

question: When was Norvell born?

answer: 1942

question: Where did Norvell earn her master's degree?

answer: Hunter College

question: What is Norvell's Hair Quilt made of?

answer: Clippings of her friends' hair and Scotch "Magic" tape

question: What did Norvell found in 1972?

answer: A.I.R. Gallery, the first cooperative gallery in the U.S. that showed only women's work

question: Write a ~5 sentence summary.

answer: Patsy Ann Norvell was a visual artist who worked in sculpture, installation art, and public art. She was born in 1942, obtained a masters degree in sculpture from Hunter College, and became active in the Women's movement in 1969. She founded A.I.R. Gallery, the first cooperative art gallery to showcase only women's work in the U.S., in 1972. She died in 2013.


text:
[Satellite view of the Mar Menor, Cartagena, and Cape Palos.] CAPE PALOS () is a cape in the Spanish municipality of Cartagena, in the region of Murcia. It is part of a small range of volcanic mounts that form a small peninsula. The Mediterranean islands of Grosa and the group known as the Hormigas Islands are part of this range, as well as the islands in the Mar Menor (“Little Sea”). The name “Palos” is derived from the Latin word _palus_, meaning lagoon, a reference to the Mar Menor.

According to Pliny the Elder and Rufus Festus Avienus, there was once a temple dedicated to Baal Hammon on the promontory of the cape, which later became associated with the cult of Saturn. During the reign of Philip II of Spain, a watchtower was built on the promontory as a defense measure against the Barbary Pirates. Some battles occurred in the place such as: Battle of Cape Palos (1591) during the Anglo-Spanish War (1585–1604), Battle of Cape Palos (1758) during the Spanish-Barbary conflict (1694–1792), Battle of Cape Palos (1815) during the Second Barbary War and Battle of Cape Palos (1938) during the Spanish Civil War.

Its lighthouse began operating on January 31, 1865. The cape is part of a marine reserve, the _Reserva Marina de Cabo de Palos e Islas Hormigas_.

Image:Faro Cabo de Palos.jpg|Lighthouse of Cabo de Palos File:Cabo de Palos 1.jpg|Lighthouse at night File:Islas Hormigas - Cabo de Palos.jpg|

title: Cape Palos

question: Where is the cape?

answer: In Cartagena, Murcia, Spain

question: Who claims that there was once a temple dedicated to Ball Hammon on the cape's promontory?

answer: Pliny the Elder and Rufus Festus Avienus

question: Why was a watchtower built on the promontory?

answer: It was a defense measure against the Barbary Pirates

question: When did the lighthouse begin operating?

answer: January 31, 1865

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: Cape Palos is a cape in Cartagena, Murcia, Spain. It is part of a small range of volcanic mounts, and it is also part of a marine reserve. The cape was once home to a watchtower to guard against the Barbary Pirates, and in 1865, a lighthouse began operating there.


text:
AUGUST BÖCKH or BOECKH[1] (; 24 November 1785 – 3 August 1867) was a German classical scholar and antiquarian.

Life

He was born in Karlsruhe, and educated at the local gymnasium; in 1803 he left for the University of Halle, where he studied theology. F. A. Wolf was teaching there, and creating an enthusiasm for classical studies; Böckh transferred from theology to philology, and became the best of Wolf's scholars.

In 1807, he established himself as _Privatdozent_ in the University of Heidelberg and was shortly afterwards appointed professor extraordinarius, becoming professor two years later. The common misapprehension of Böckh's first name being not just August but Philipp August originated in Heidelberg where staff of the university misread the abbreviation 'Dr phil' (doctor philosophiae) as 'Dr Philipp August Böckh'.[2]

In 1811, he moved to the new University of Berlin, where he had been appointed professor of eloquence and classical literature. He remained there till his death. He was elected a member of the Academy of Sciences of Berlin in 1814, and for a long time acted as its secretary. Many of the speeches contained in his _Gesammelte kleine Schriften_ were delivered in this latter capacity. He was elected a Foreign Honorary Member of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences in 1853.[3]

Böckh died in Berlin in 1867.

Works

Böckh worked out the ideas of Wolf in regard to philology and illustrated them by his practice. Discarding the old idea that philology consisted in a minute acquaintance with words and the exercise of the critical art, he regarded it as the entire knowledge of antiquity (_totius antiquitatis cognitio_), historical and philosophical. He divides philology into five parts: first, an inquiry into public acts, with a knowledge of times and places, into civil institutions, and also into law; second, an inquiry into private affairs; third, an exhibition of the religions and arts of the ancient nations; fourth, a history of all their moral and physical speculations and beliefs, and of their literatures; and fifth, a complete explanation of the language.

Böckh set forth these ideas in a Latin oration delivered in 1822 (_Gesammelte kleine Schriften_, i.). In his speech at the opening of the congress of German philologists in 1850, he defined philology as the historical construction of the entire life — therefore, of all forms of culture and all the productions of a people in its practical and spiritual tendencies. He allows that such a work is too great for any one person; but the very infinity of subjects is the stimulus to the pursuit of truth, and scholars strive because they have not attained. An account of Böckh's division of philology will be found in Freund's _Wie studiert man Philologie?_.

From 1806, till his death Böckh's literary activity was unceasing. His principal works include an edition of Pindar, the first volume of which (1811) contains the text of the Epinician odes; a treatise, _De Metris Pindari_, in three books; and _Notae Criticae_: the second (1819) contains the _Scholia_; and part ii. of volume ii. (1821) contains a Latin translation, a commentary, the fragments and indices. It was for a long time the most complete edition of Pindar. But it was especially the treatise on the metres which placed Böckh in the first rank of scholars. This treatise forms an epoch in the treatment of the subject. In it the author threw aside all attempts to determine the Greek metres by mere subjective standards, pointing out at the same time the close connection between the music and the poetry of the Greeks. He investigated minutely the nature of Greek music as far as it can be ascertained, as well as all the details regarding Greek musical instruments; and he explained the statements of the ancient Greek writers on rhythm. In this manner he laid the foundation for a scientific treatment of Greek metres.

His _Die Staatshaushaltung der Athener_ (1817; 2nd ed. 1851, with a supplementary volume _Urkunden über das Seewesen des attischen Staats_; 3rd ed. 1886) was translated into English under the title of _The Public Economy of Athens_. In it he investigated a subject of peculiar difficulty with profound learning. He amassed information from the whole range of Greek literature, carefully appraised the value of the information given, and shows throughout every portion of it rare critical ability and insight. A work of a similar kind was his _Metrologische Untersuchungen über Gewichte, Münzfüsse, und Masse des Alterthums_ (1838).

In regard to the taxes and revenue of the Athenian state he derived a great deal of his most trustworthy information from inscriptions, many of which are given in his book. When the Berlin Academy of Sciences projected the plan of a _Corpus Inscriptionum Graecarum_, Böckh was chosen as the principal editor. This work (1828-1877) is in four volumes, the third and fourth volumes being edited by J. Franz, E. Curtius, A. Kirchhoff and H. Röhl.

Böckh's activity was continually digressing into widely different fields. He gained for himself a foremost position amongst the investigators of ancient chronology, and his name occupies a place by the side of those of Ideler and Mommsen. His principal works on this subject were: _Zur Geschichte der Mondcyclen der Hellenen_ (1855); _Epigraphisch-chronologische Studien_ (1856); _Über die vierjährigen Sonnenkreise der Alten_ (1863), and several papers which he published in the _Transactions_ of the Berlin Academy. Böckh also occupied himself with philosophy. One of his earliest papers was on the Platonic doctrine of the world, _De Platonica corporis mundani fabrica et de vera Indole, Astronomiae Philolaice_ (1810), to which may be added _Manetho und die Hundsternperiode_ (1845).

In opposition to Otto Gruppe, he denied that Plato affirmed the diurnal rotation of the earth (_Untersuchungen über das kosmische System des Platon_, 1852), and when in opposition to him Grote published his opinions on the subject (_Plato and the Rotation of the Earth_) Böckh was ready with his reply. Another of his earlier papers, and one frequently referred to, was _Commentatio Academica de simultate quae Platoni cum Xenophonte intercessisse fertur_ (1811). Other philosophical writings were _Commentatio in Platonis qui vulgo fertur Minoem_ (1806), and _Philolaos des Pythagoreers Lehren nebst den Bruchstücken_ (1819), in which he endeavoured to show the genuineness of the fragments.

Besides his edition of Pindar, Böckh published an edition of the _Antigone_ of Sophocles (1843) with a poetical translation and essays. An early and important work on the Greek tragedians is his _Graecae Tragoediae Principum ... num ea quae supersunt et genuine omnia sint et forma primitive servata_ (1808).

The smaller writings of Böckh began to be collected in his lifetime. Three of the volumes were published before his death, and four after (_Gesammelte kleine Schriften_, 1858–1874). The first two consist of orations delivered in the university or academy of Berlin, or on public occasions. The third, fourth, fifth and sixth contain his contributions to the _Transactions_ of the Berlin Academy, and the seventh contains his critiques. Böckh's lectures, delivered from 1809-1865, were published by Bratusehek under the title of _Encyklopädie und Methodologie der philologischen Wissenschaften_[4] (1877; 2nd ed. Klussmann, 1886). His philological and scientific theories are set forth in Elze, _Über Philologie als System_ (1845), and Reichhardt, _Die Gliederung der Philologie entwickelt_ (1846). His correspondence with Karl Otfried Müller appeared at Leipzig in 1883.

John Paul Pritchard has made an abridged translation of Böckh's _Encyclopädie und Methodologie der philologischen Wissenschaften_: August Boeckh, _On Interpretation and Criticism_, University of Oklahoma Press, 1968.

Works

-   _Philolaos des Pythagoreers Lehren nebst den Bruchstücken seines Werkes_ (1819)

[1] Annette M. Baertschi, _Die modernen Vater der Antike: die Entwicklung der Altertumswissenschaften an Akademie und Universität im Berlin des 19. Jahrhunderts_, Walter de Gruyter, 2009, p. 45: “August Boeckh unterschrieb selbst mit »Böckh«, die Familie und die Fachtradition bevorzugen »Boeckh«.” [August Boeckh signed his name as “Böckh”; his family and the professional tradition prefer “Boeckh”.]

[2] Max Hoffmann: August Böckh. Lebensbeschreibung und Auswahl aus seinem wissenschaftlichen Briefwechsel (Leipzig 1901), p. 2 (footnote 1).

[3]

[4] A systematic articulation of Friedrich Schleiermacher's hermeneutics ().

title: August Böckh

question: What aspect of life does philology study, according to Bockh?

answer: Culture.

question: Which ancient languages did Bockh definitely know?

answer: Latin and Ancient Greek.

question: How many accepted spellings of Bockh's surname are there?

answer: Two.

question: With which contemporary public figure did Bockh momentarily share a moniker?

answer: Dr Phil


text:
It's not often we see a Truckee River wedding, but when we do we know it is going to be gorgeous! I mean, how can it not be? The setting is stunning and with the inclusion of Summit Soiree, D�lish Catering and floral design by the lovely Jiosia Designs we are in Lake Tahoe wedding heaven. We are thrilled that Eric Asistin Photography was there to capture the day. [succulent and yellow bouquet-1] Designers and woodworkers themselves, Rebecca and Grant created completely unique decor for their wedding from their wood shop Six-72 Woodworks. The couple designed custom invitations, escort cards and wood planters for the succulent favors. [truckee river wedding-5] [lake tahoe wedding photographer] [truckee river wedding-4] [truckee river wedding-7] [mountain escort cards] [truckee river wedding-8] [truckee river wedding-10] [truckee river wedding-9] [truckee river wedding-6] [truckee river wedding 1] [truckee river wedding-12] [truckee river wedding-11] [lake tahoe wedding photography] [truckee river wedding-13] [truckee river wedding-14] [truckee river wedding-15] [corn hole wedding] [truckee river wedding-16] [truckee river wedding-17] From the photographer, Eric Asistin ~ _Rebecca & Grant are an adventurous couple who love everything that involves outdoors. Avid snowboarders, skiers, kite surfers, and pretty much everything else under the sun, Rebecca & Grant frequently recreate in Tahoe and decided that the Truckee River would be a great place to have their wedding. Besides their outdoor adventures, they also own and operate their own woodworking shop Six-72 in San Francisco CA. Using their design talents, they fused their woodworking passion into the theme of their day by designing and manufacturing their invitations, seating cards, signage, centerpieces, and photo booth backdrop. I have to say that their approach to a DIY wedding was very impressive and it really put a stamp of their personal touch to the day. The day was a huge success even with the threat of thunderstorms on the horizon. The rain stopped just in time for the ceremony and offered up some really beautiful photographic light. They partied and danced the night away and the dance floor was never empty. Grant was dancing so much that he even ripped his trousers on the dance floor! Big thumbs up to the gals from Summit Soiree and all those involved for making their day a huge success. Congrats Rebecca & Grant!_ Lake Tahoe Wedding Vendors: Photographer : Eric Asistin Photography | Wedding Coordinator : Summit Soiree | Band : AM Radio | Florist : Jiosia Designs | Caterer : D�lish Catering | Decor : Six-72 Woodworks

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share

question: Who was responsible for the party?

answer: The wedding coordinators were from Summit Soiree.

question: Where did they get married?

answer: Next to the Truckee River.

question: Who are Rebecca and Grant?

answer: Operators of their own woodworking shop, rebecca and Grant also seem to be keen athletes. they designed a lot of the details of their wedding around their shared interests.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: A page describing the wedding of rant and Rebecca, describing the different aspects of the wedding's success and those involved.


text: There was once a Jester who fell in love with a princess; she would always laugh at his jokes. There came a day where he begged the princess to be one with him - she laughed as it were one of his comedic jousts. It was then he realized he must change; so he became a jouster, and the past jester now jouster competed to win her favor. In the spirit of his passion he named his Lance LoVe and continued to fight for her amusement: she ignored him without thought. Weeks later the Princess had come down with a bout of depression and was crying day after day night after night... But the Jester could no longer muse her - he was no longer a fool. It was the day he changed from Jester to Joust that he became a tool from fool. In her loss of mind she grabbed the Jouster's lance and fell on top of it...It was the fools cruelest joke of all, for it pained no one more to fall in LoVe.

title: The Story of Unrequited Love

question: Why did the princess become depressed?

answer: She had no one to make her laugh any more.

question: Why would the jester think that becoming a jouster would change the princess's feelings for him?

answer: He was stupid. Changing your occupation is unlikely to change another's feelings for you.

question: Why would a jester lose his ability to amuse someone just because he has changed his occupation?

answer: This doesn't make sense.

question: Why fall upon a lance. the princess would have to be extraordinarily tall to fall upon an average lance?

answer: Perhaps it was a very short lance

question: Write a ~9 sentence summary.

answer:
Once a Jester fell in love with a princess; she would always laugh at his jokes. Then he begged the princess to be one with him. She thought it one of his jests. It was then that he realized he must change; so, he became a jouster and fought to win her favor. He called his Lance LoVe and fought for her amusement: she ignored him.
Soon the Princess became depressed crying continuously. But the Jester could no longer amuse her. He had lost the ability. She grabbed the Jouster's lance, in her despair, and fell on top of it.


text:
SARSFIELD LAKE is a small lake in Lee Township,[1] Timiskaming District, in northeastern Ontario, Canada.[2] The lake is in the James Bay drainage basin and the nearest community is Sesekinika, to the east.

The lake is about long and wide. The primary inflow, at the south, is Sarsfield Creek arriving from Gould Lake. The primary outflow, at the north, is also Sarsfield Creek, which heads north. Sarsfield Creek flows via Meyers Lake, Woollings Creek, the Whiteclay River, the Black River, the Abitibi River and the Moose River to James Bay.

[1]

[2]

title: Sarsfield Lake

question: What is Sarsfield Lake?

answer: A small lake in Lee Township, Timiskaming District northeastern Ontario, Canada.

question: How big is the lake?

answer: Unclear

question: What is the nearest community?

answer: Sesekinika to the east.

question: What is the primary inflow?

answer: Sarsfield Creek from Gould Lake.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: Sarsfield Lake is a small lake in Lee Township, Timiskaming District, northeastern Ontario, Canada. The nearest community is Sesekinika to the east. The primary inflow and outflow is Sarsfield Creek to the north and south.


text:
_LEPIDOCHITONA CINEREA_, known by the common names COMMON CHITON or GRAY CHITON, is a chiton (a sea mollusc).

Distribution

_Lepidochitona cinerea_ is found in the North Sea and on the coastal region of the Black Sea.

Description

_Lepidochitona cinerea_ is a broadly oval mollusc that grows up to 24 mm long.

title: Lepidochitona cinerea

question: Write a ~0 sentence summary.


text: His nights were full of the tossings and turnings you’d expect from a grave, but less life. You can hear his agonies from the other room, but no neighbor thinks much of it. Regret can kill a man, but poor choices can make him immortal. That’s what keeps him up, his choices in life. Every night, those that share his walls hear the same woe’s spilling through the tattered dry wall, “WHY ME?” “HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN?” but they never hear the answers. It’s difficult to gauge the value of a life when the person doesn’t value their own, but we insist that it is mandatory that we move on. Death is inevitable, we all know this. Death comes quick, swift, and overwhelmingly so, but we must press on. We don’t know why we do, or how, but all we know is that the only buttons on life we can press are “start” and “stop”, we only control the one though.

title: Drunken paragraphs are BEST paragraphs!

question: How can poor choices make someone immortal?

answer: The story doesn't explain this.

question: Who says "WHY ME"?

answer: The main subject

question: Who is the main subject?

answer: The main subject is a man who regrets his life choices.

question: What is the main subject's mood?

answer: The main subject is in agony and regretful.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: The narrator of this story describes a man who is haunted by his choices and regrets in life. The narrator makes the point that even though death is inevitable, humans have to keep pressing on. The only thing people can choose to do is to stop or start.


text:
SAMUEL EDWARD MOOERS (December 14, 1889 – May 5, 1975) was a Canadian politician. He served in the Legislative Assembly of New Brunswick as member of the Liberal party from 1939 to 1952.[1][2]

[1]

[2]

title: Samuel Mooers

question: How long did Samuel Edward Mooers serve in the Legislative Assembly of New Brunswick?

answer: 13 years.

question: To which party did Samuel Edward Mooers belong?

answer: He was a member of the Liberal party.

question: How old was Samuel Edward Mooers when he left the Legislative Assembly of New Brunswick?

answer: 63 years old.

question: In what field did Samuel Edward Mooers work?

answer: He served in the Legislative Assembly of New Brunswick for 13 years. No other details are given of his employment.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: Samuel Edward Mooers was a Canadian politician of New Brunswick.


text: The sound of the car's transmission dropping into "PARK" rings out in the dark and still August air. He kills the engine. The driver rolls the windows down as the humid summer air rushes into the cab. He puts his head back, closes his eyes, and lets his arm hang out the window. He could hear the muffled sounds from inside the bowling alley, it was a pretty decent crowd inside from what he saw in the parking lot when he pulled up. He could now feel a breeze on his hand outside and he knew it was starting to cool off after the hot and humid day. He can hear the overgrown grass and foliage in the field adjacent to the bowling alley rustle as it blows. He takes a deep breath. His friends house is right around the corner, soon to be filled with the sounds and smells of a good time, but right now...right now was that "cryptic" period as he liked to call it. You know about that, right? The time between leaving the house and actually getting to the party. For John Ross a 10 minute drive could turn into hours of this "cryptic" time. Why? Well, he didn't even know himself. He was only 17, had been driving less than a year so maybe the novelty hadn't yet worn off, maybe he needed to take a break and leave the house, maybe he just like a few hours to himself. He didn't know. There was one thing he did know though, that he liked doing it and those few hours were as good as a vacation. He wanted to soak it all in, the town, the friends, the fun. In a week or two he was leaving for college and so was everyone he knew. He now opened his eyes and looked at the face of the building, the various neon beer logos pierced the darkness and spill onto the ground of the parking lot. All the different colors create a strange glow. He then looks up to notice the moon is being covered by an overcast sky. He looks in the distance and he can see heat lightning on the horizon as if a war were being waged in the heavens. He grabbed the burger on the passenger seat that he had stopped to eat, unwrapped it, and took a bite. He chewed slowly and savored the bite of the cheap burger in the same way he was savoring his few hours of roaming the back roads before meeting up with everyone. The sound of the bowling pins being hit continued to echo into the night as John started up his car again and pulls away into the darkness.

title: Before the Party

question: What time period does this story take place?

answer: The current time period is inferred from the bowling alley and the 17 year old leaving for college.

question: Who is the narrator?

answer: 17 year old John Ross.

question: Explain why the narrator takes hours to make a 10 minute drive.

answer: He calls this time "cryptic", the time between leaving the house and getting to the party. He wants to soak in the town, his friends and the fun before leaving for college.

question: What are the major events of the story?

answer: John Ross parks his car at a bowling alley. He eats the cheap hamburger. He is on his way to a party, but drives along aimlessly to soak up the town, his friends and the fun before heading off to college in a week or two.

question: Write a ~4 sentence summary.

answer: John Ross parks his car at a bowling alley. He relaxes in his car while sizing up the crowd. He eats the cheap hamburger. He is on his way to a party, but drives along aimlessly to soak up the town, his friends and the fun before heading off to college in a week or two.


text:
We got a taxi after dinner back to hers. She looks absolutely stunning under the light of the security lamp above her front door. She’s wearing a small, black cocktail dress that fits her perfectly. She’s still holding my hand from the walk up the drive.
  She leans in, eyelashes fluttering. "Would you like to *come in* for a coffee?" God, those words coming from her mouth are intoxicating.

  It’s a shame that it’s getting late and I'm far too tired. I decline and thank her for a great night. I leave. I wish all my friends were like her.

title: Coffee

question: Why does the narrator decline the girl's invitation into her home for coffee?

answer: Because it was getting late and he was tired.

question: What type of dress was the girl wearing?

answer: A black cocktail dress.

question: What does the narrator wish of all his friends?

answer: That they were all like the girl.

question: Where do they take a taxi to?

answer: Back to the girl's house.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: The narrator admires his date after dinner as he walks her to the front door. However it was getting late and he declines her invitation to come inside for a coffee.


text:
After rumors began swirling that SNL star PETE DAVIDSON was casually dating ponytail inventor ARIANA GRANDE, the actor began receiving comments from fans (haters?) suggesting that he—as a sufferer of borderline personality disorder—should not be in a relationship with anyone, let alone GRANDE. Davidson wasn’t having it, so he responded in the form of a screengrabbed message written in Apple’s Notes app.

Davidson has opened up about his mental health in the past, so in some ways his passionate response was unsurprising. It said, in part:

  “Normally I wouldn’t comment on something like this cause like fuck you. But I been hearing a lot of ‘people with bpd can’t be in relationships’ talk. I just wanna let you know that’s not true. Just because someone has a mental illness does not mean they can’t be happy and in a relationship. It also doesn’t mean that person makes the relationship toxic. Everybody is different and there are a lot of treatments for mental illnesses and I have done/am doing all of them. And I encourage those who struggle to seek help as well it has changed my life for the better.

  [...]

  I just think it’s fucked up to stigmatize people as crazy and say that they are unable to do stuff that anyone can do. It’s not their fault and it’s the wrong way for people to look at things.”

“For all those struggling I want you to know that I love you and I understand you and it is going to be okay,” he said at the end of the note. “That’s all. Love to everyone else.”

G/O Media may get a commission

[People]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

ARREST THEM.

[People]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

-   “Most of the time I avoid headgear. This can prompt disapproving looks from the older generations. Last weekend I attended the royal wedding. The invitation clearly stated that guests must wear hats. Yikes.” - CRESSIDA BONAS [E! Online]
-   “FIVE WRONG JENNIFER ANISTON RUMORS” was Gossip Cop’s working title. [Gossip Cop]
-   BRAD AND ANGIE still haven’t gotten divorced “because the two are at odds over the custody of their children.” [E! Online]
-   ORLANDO BLOOM is one of my favorite dirtbags!!! 😍😍😍 [Just Jared]
-   OLIVIA MUNN has something to say about her ex AARON RODGERS’S family. [Celebitchy]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

CORRECTION: _An earlier version of this column said Pete Davidson was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, not borderline personality disorder. We regret the error and have revised the piece._

question: Who is Pete Davidson?

answer: Pete Davidson is an SNL star.

question: What mental illness does Pete suffer from?

answer: Pete suffers from Borderline Personality Disorder.

question: What did the fans have to say about Pete's dating life?

answer: The actor began to receive comments from fans saying as a sufferer of borderline personality disorder, Pete should not be in a relationship with anyone.

question: Has Pete tried seeking any help?

answer: Yes, Pete is undergoing treatment for his mental health.

question: Write a ~6 sentence summary.

answer:
After rumors suggest that SNL star Pete is dating Ariana Grande, the actor received hate comments from fans (haters?) who said that as someone who suffers from mental illness (borderline personality disorder) Pete should not date anyone.

Pete has responded to these comments with a note stating that the fans' claims are untrue. He further says that a person with mental illness doesn't make the relationship toxic. He encourages others who suffer to also seek treatment as he did. Pete ends the note by saying he understands people who are struggling and assures them it's going to be okay.


text:
It sits in the middle of the jewel-encrusted chamber, pulsating with power. Not even the candlemaker can comprehend the curious article as he stands there in awe. It was just as the legend recounted - the very legend which, over the years, was taught to him and the others back in the citadel. Very few have ever been able to feel the artifact's forces, let alone be in the same room as it. Of all the possible people, someone of the candlemaker's standing would not normally be considered for the journey, yet, for reasons only known to the leaders, he was chosen. Whatever plan they had for him, only the divines could ever know.

The glimmering chamber stands on the peak of a giant, seaweed-smothered rock in the middle of the fearful Caseitic Ocean. The candlemaker's rowing boat waits patiently at the dock, which marks the beginning of the long, disused path, leading to the mysterious mansion at the summit. The candlemaker had noticed the most unusual creatures as he made his way to the peak: those that wielded opulent golden tentacles and outstanding sharpened claws. Their behaviour was interesting; it was as if they helped guide the candlemaker up the mountain, using their various appendages to point the way. They were not the slightest bit hostile. For an apparently long-abandoned landmass, their ecosystem boasts its stability.

It was after the candlemaker had navigated his way through winding corridors and up fragile staircases that he made it to the main chamber. Appreciating the seriousness of the situation, he wipes a veil of sweat from his brow, flicking it to the floor. The sweat appears to react with the regal purple carpet, giving off a mild, surprisingly fragrant vapour, which the man could only identify as spoiled crab meat. He was greatly acquainted with the scent, being a regular client of the fish-market back home.

The artifact which proudly rests in the center of the room glows so brightly that its true form cannot be perceived. One would have to place their hands on it to find out, though there is no knowing whether it is dangerous to the touch. The candlemaker has wasted enough time gazing at the item, and there is nought he could do but walk up to it and learn its true nature.

Approaching the artifact, the candlemaker squints as he walks into the light. He reaches out to the mysterious object with his hands, and penetrates its surface. A wave of power surges through him, and the light radiating from the object begins to fade. Opening his eyes, he sees that the artifact is a jade crab, perched on a wrought iron stand. With a glowing expression on his face, he takes the crab, admiring it even more than he did so before.

Strangely, the crab begins to glow again, and a large crack appears down its center. A bright green liquid starts to flow from it, as if it were a glowstick. The liquid visibly irritates the candlemaker's bare hands and he panics; however, he is unable to put it down. It refuses to be put down. As the skin is dissolved from his fingers, he speaks worriedly into his mouthpiece:

"It's the arthropod. The arthropod is leaking."

Soon after, a sinister voice replies:

"It is a reflection of your lowly craftsmanship. No wonder the other citizens could not trust you."

There is nothing the candlemaker could do but scream as the acid spread up his arms and through his body. He eventually lets the jade crab fall to the floor, where it splits into two pieces. The corroded remains of the unfortunate candlemaker are strewn across the carpet, and the stench of crab meat fills the air.

His earpiece, however, remains intact. It lets out a menacing laugh.

question: What occupation does the main character of this story have?

answer: The main character of this story is a candlemaker.

question: What genre would this short story be classified under?

answer: The genre this short story would be classified under is fiction.

question: What does the candlemaker do that creates a wave of power to surge through him?

answer: The candlemaker goes to touch the artifact which allows a wave of power to surge through him.

question: What arthropod is discussed in this story?

answer: The arthropod discussed in this story is a crab.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: This short story describes a candlemaker seeking a mysterious artifact.


text:
HARTMUT OSCHKINAT (born 28 February 1957)[1] is a German structural biologist and professor for chemistry at the Free University of Berlin. His research focuses on the study of biological systems with solid-state nuclear magnetic resonance.

He is a member of the Editorial Boards of the _Journal of Biomolecular NMR_ and _Structure_.[2][3]

Life and career

Oschkinat studied chemistry at the Johann-Wolfgang-Goethe University of Frankfurt. He received his doctoral degree in 1986 under the supervision of Horst Kessler with the title “Analysis of the conformation of Cyclosporin in solution using NMR-spectroscopy: development and use of new methods.” in the field of nuclear magnetic resonance spectroscopy (NMR). After his work as a postdoctoral researcher with Geoffrey Bodenhausen at the University of Lausanne, Oschkinat moved to the Max Planck Institute of Biochemistry in Martinsried in 1987 as a post-doc in the Lab of Marius Clore and Angela Gronenborn. There, he was working with Marius Clore, Angela Gronenborn and the Nobel laureate Robert Huber. After his habilitation at the Technical University of Munich in 1992, Hartmut Oschkinat moved to the European Molecular Biology Laboratory in Heidelberg. Since 1998, he is the head of the department NMR-supported Structural Biology at the Leibniz-Institut für Molekulare Pharmakologie in Berlin.[4]

Research

At the beginning of his career, Oschkinat worked in the field of solution-state NMR, and made fundamental contributions[5] to establish the role of multidimensional NMR spectroscopy in structural biology. After using solution-state NMR spectroscopy to determine three-dimensional structures of soluble proteins such as the pleckstrin homology domain[6] and the WW domain,[7] characterise protein–protein interactions involving the latter,[8] with applications in fragment-based drug discovery,[9][10] he moved on to focus on the investigation of biological systems by solid-state NMR (ssNMR) with magic angle spinning. His group was the first to solve a protein structure using ssNMR;[11] the structure solved was that of a microcrystalline preparation of a SH3 domain.[12] Since 2005, his research group investigates complex biomolecular systems such as membrane proteins within the native lipid environment,[13][14][15] amyloid fibrils,[16] and oligomers.[17] Moreover, he develops methods to address challenging questions in structural biology where ssNMR can be applied with particular advantages, and have made particular contributions to the development of dynamic nuclear polarisation[18][19] and proton detection using fast magic angle spinning.[20]

Notable Achievements

-   1998: elected to membership of the European Molecular Biology Organization.[21]
-   2009-2011: Acting Director of the Leibniz-Institut für Molekulare Pharmakologie.[22][23]
-   2012: International Scientific Review Board for the Central European Institute of Technology in Brno, Czech Republic.[24][25]
-   2013: elected to honorary membership of the National Magnetic Resonance Society of India.[26]
-   2014: one of six awardees of the Günther Laukien Prize, awarded annually at the Experimental Nuclear Magnetic Resonance Conference in the USA.[27][28][29][30]

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

[8]

[9]

[10]

[11]

[12]

[13]

[14]

[15]

[16]

[17]

[18]

[19]

[20]

[21]

[22]

[23]

[24]

[25]

[26]

[27]

[28]

[29]

[30]

title: Hartmut Oschkinat

question: Who were Oschkinat's mentors?

answer: Horst Kessler during his doctoral work. Geoffrey Bodenhausen, Marius Clore, Angela Gronenborn, and the Nobel laureate Robert Huber during his post-doc work.

question: What kind of problems does Oschkinat work on currently?

answer: He investigates complex biomolecular systems and develops methods to address challenging questions in structural biology.

question: What were Oschkinat and his team's most important scientific achievements?

answer: They were the first to solve a protein structure using solid-state NMR.

question: How broadly is Oschkinat recognized in his field?

answer: He serves on the boards of several organizations as well as being a member of the Editorial Boards of the Journal of Biomolecular NMR and Structure. He's also received honorifics and awards in two instances.

question: Write a ~7 sentence summary.

answer: Hartmut Oschkinat (born 28 February 1957) is a German structural biologist and professor of chemistry at the Free University of Berlin. After majoring in chemistry, he finished his Ph.D. under Horst Kessler in the field of nuclear magnetic resonance spectroscopy (NMR). He made fundamental contributions to the field of solution-state NMR. He moved on to investigate biological structures with solid-state NMR. His group was the first to solve a protein structure using the technique. He continues to develop methods to address challenging questions in structural biology. He's the receiver of several awards and serves on the boards of several institutions in addition to being on the editorial board of the Journal of Biomolecular NMR and Structure.


text:
**“MYRTLE!!!”** his dad roared from the living room, waking him up instantly.

After a few impatient seconds he hears **“MYRTLE! GIT THE FUCK IN HERE!... RIGHT!... NOW!”**, this time followed by a thunderous BOOM as his dad slams his fist on the endtable, causing the spent cans of PBR and plastic bottles of Skol vodka to explode all over the living room.

Myrtle knew what was coming next, this pattern has been played out thousands of times. In fact, this was Myrtle’s life. Constantly being shit on. Not a friend in the world, not even an imaginary one.

Everyone called him “Myrtle the Turtle”, which is not only a cute rhyme, it’s a hilarious name because Myrtle looked like a god-damn turtle! A hundred pounds overweight, bulbous cheeks, small beaky mouth, round nose, but all arranged as such so that he looked like a cartoon turtle. He hated that nickname.

**“I SAID GIT IN HERE YOU FUCKIN’ TURTLE PIECE OF SHIT!”** his dad squeals in an impossibly loud crescendo. His three year old sister Maggie had long been screaming in the background.

He knew what he was going to walk into when he stepped foot into that livingroom - his six-foot-seven barrel shaped dad with a head shaped like a howitzer shell and a big nasty wiry red beard will be lumped out on the old worn out rocker and his mom will still be in same old-lady pajamas, sprawled out, halfway on the couch, with a needle in one hand and a TV remote in the other, speaking in tongues. His mother never seemed to make sense since she started poking herself with that damn needle. Maggie will be screaming, crawling on the garbage on the floor of the kitchen in the trailer which is located somewhere in the backwoods of West Virginia.

Myrtle knows any further hesitation will result in a far worse consequence, so he pulls himself out of bed.  With his head down, his shoulders slumped, he pedaled his feet towards the living room to see what that monster wanted - probably another bottle of vodka.

“Come a lil’ closer, boy.”

Myrtle robotically takes a step closer, head still down.

“I said CLOSER, BOY!”

Maggie’s screams double in volume, nobody seems to notice. Myrtle quickly takes two more steps towards his father.

“Y-y-ye-yes-s-s-sir?” Myrtle manages, when suddenly THWACK! his dad delivers a powerful open-handed smack right in the ear, deafening Myrtle with a painful ring. That god-damn ring again. A ring he has heard a thousand times.

*wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee* -- **“ON’T YOU EVER GIVE ME THA”** -- *eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee* **“OOK AGAIN YOU WORTHLE”** -- *eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee* -- **“OF SHIT!”**

“Davith s-stho heeth justh ahh” his mother mumbles, but then she quickly turns her trembling attention back to the needle.

“D-d-do y-you n-need mo-more med-medicine, d-dad?”

“You IDIOT, OF COURSE I DO! DON’T I LOOK SICK TO YOU, BOY?”

“Ye-yessir.”

Myrtle makes a beeline towards the fridge, so he can pull his fathers next bottle of vodka out of the freezer.

Without hesitation Myrtle slams the freezer door, does an about-face and makes a reverse-beeline back to his father, head still down, shoulders still slumped, and eyes that show the depression of a thousand emo kids.

Once back, he allows his father to swipe the bottle. Just like always, the asshole plies the cap off, wraps his lips around the top and takes such a deep pull that I swear it creates a vortex in his throat.

His mother continues speaking in tongues.

Myrtle manages to make it back to his bedroom without further confrontation.

What happens next is more of the same. It’s a pattern. Myrtle will continue this pattern of abuse and playing doctor until about 9:00 PM, which is when his father will pass out on the rocker and his mother will remain in a stasis between life and death. Myrtle will eventually find a way to sleep, only to live even worse nightmares. But not tonight.

Tonight the pattern will change. He’s had it up to here.

Myrtle sits hunched over on his bed, sweaty palms wet his pajamas. A sudden rush of confusion takes over him. An intense pang of anxiety begins to bleed in, now hemorrhaging. Pins and needles coat his hands, icy shivers crawl from his toes and work their way up to his head. He is drowning, gulping for air, his mind begins to crawl through the collapsing tunnel before him.

White noise from the television fills the air. Myrtle sits on his bed, staring into the living room. His eyes are now focused on his father. Myrtle is high on pure adrenaline and ecstasy. A feeling he has never felt before.

Without hesitation Myrtle gets out of bed and paces directly into the living room. His eyes jump up and stare at the shotgun, on the rack, right above that heap of shit who just happens to be his father.

Myrtle puts one foot up on his father’s crotch and begins crawling up, he reaches for the gun anxiously. His father shifts from side to side but doesn’t seem to waken. Myrtle continues climbing and he finally manages to grab the gun. He crawls back down. Myrtle grabs three cartridges from the end-table drawer.

His body feels entirely too heavy, so he sits down at his father’s feet and stares into the back of his eyelids. In one swift motion he swings the gun around, takes aim right between the eyes and pulls the trigger. **KA-RACK** - it looks like someone threw a cherry pie at the wall.

Myrtle lays with a tingle in his shoulder and his ears ringing. The white noise from the TV is quickly drowned out.

Eyes focused on Maggie, Myrtle rubs his shoulder, sits back up and chambers another round. Maggie’s body language insists she is screaming, but Myrtle hears nothing but that ring. Another rush of ecstasy consumes him as he raises the shotgun sight at Maggie.

*eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee* - **NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!**

He looks over to see his mother screaming frantically. He swings the gun mechanically, takes aim at his mother’s eye socket, then pulls the trigger. **KA-RACK** - another smashed cherry pie, this time on the couch.

Suddenly Myrtle’s rush of ecstasy comes to an end. He feels nothing except the TV static crawling through his skin. Myrtle feels completely numb.

There’s only one way to finish this.

Myrtle chambers one last round. He rubs his shoulder, stands up, then sets the gun sight right on Maggie’s screaming face. His trigger-finger trembles, he starts to pull the trigger back, but hesitates. He hears sirens blend with the ringing in his ears.

Myrtle falls to the floor, flips the gun, hugs it and swallows the barrel. The sirens grown louder. With the barrel in his mouth, he kicks at the trigger and his toe finally makes purchase. The ringing fades away.

title: Up To Here (an attempt at a short thriller)

question: What does the story say about the ringing in the ears that Myrtle often hears?

answer: Myrtle was an abused child. His father always hit him and slapped him hard in the face, causing a ringing sound in the ears. He'd experienced this so many times already that he'd grown accustomed to it. The last time he heard the ringing was when he blew his parents' heads off with a shotgun. And then when he killed himself, he heard no ringing anymore.

question: What does the story say about the origin of the nickname "Myrtle the Turtle."

answer: Growing up in an abusive family, Myrtle didn't have friends. He hated it when people called him Myrtle the Turtle because of his resemblance to a cartoon turtle. He was overweight and his face looked like that of a turtle. His alcoholic father would also curse him and call him a turtle.

question: What does the story say about why Myrtle's mother speaking in tongues?

answer: While Myrtle's dad was an alcoholic, his mom was a drug addict who was always high. She was often in front of the TV and mumbling incoherent words, as if she were speaking in tongues. Since she started poking herself with the needed, she had become like this.

question: What does the story say about Maggie after she was orphaned?


text:
FLORIMOND CLAUDE, COMTE DE MERCY-ARGENTEAU (20 April 1727 – 25 August 1794) was an Austrian diplomat.

Biography

He was born in Liège, Belgium, to Antoine, comte de Mercy-Argenteau, and entered the diplomatic service of Austria in Paris in the train of Reichsfürst Kaunitz. He became Austrian minister in Turin at the court of King Charles Emmanuel III of Sardinia, in St. Petersburg at the court of Catherine the Great, and then Paris at the court of King Louis XV of France in 1766. In Paris, his first work was to strengthen the alliance between France and Austria, which was cemented in 1770 by the marriage of the dauphin, afterwards Louis XVI, with Archduchess Maria Antonia of Austria, youngest daughter of Empress Maria Theresa, afterwards known as Queen Marie Antoinette. When Louis and Marie Antoinette ascended the throne of France in 1774, Mercy-Argenteau became one of the most powerful personages at the French court due to his influence over Marie-Antoinette, which made her unpopular with the French nobility and French people. He was in Paris during the turbulent years that led up to the French Revolution, and gave powerful aid to the finance ministers Loménie de Brienne and Necker. In 1792, he became governor-general of the Austrian Netherlands, which had just been reduced to obedience by Austria. There, his ability and experience made him a very successful ruler. Although at first in favor of moderate courses, Mercy-Argenteau supported the action of Austria in making war upon its former ally after the outbreak of the French Revolution, and in July 1794, he was appointed Austrian ambassador to Britain, but he died a few days after his arrival in London.

He was played by Henry Stephenson in the 1938 film _Marie Antoinette_, and by Steve Coogan in the 2006 film of the same name.

title: Florimond Claude, Comte de Mercy-Argenteau

question: Where was Florimond Claude born?

answer: Liege, Belgium.

question: Which languages did Claude probably speak?

answer: Dutch, French, German.

question: In which city did Claude die?

answer: London.

question: What was Marie Antoinette's birth name?

answer: Archduchess Maria Antonia of Austria


text:
from the _will-it-actually-happen?_ dept

The efforts to reform ECPA -- the Electronic Communications and Privacy Act -- have been going on for basically two decades at this point. The law, which was passed in 1986, has a whole bunch of problems, with the biggest one (as we've discussed dozens of times) being that it considers any email that's been on a server for more than 180 days "abandoned," and thus freely searchable by law enforcement without a warrant. That's because there was no concept of cloud computing back in 1986. People who got email "retrieved" those emails off of a server and downloaded them to local storage. Many in Congress have been trying to fix this for so, so, so many years. And it always gets blocked. The IRS and the SEC have both been fairly proactive in trying to block ECPA reform bills that will require a warrant (funny: I thought it was the 4th Amendment that made such a warrant necessary, but, silly me, no one cares about the 4th Amendment any more).

Last year, a plan to fix ECPA, called the Email Privacy Act, with an astounding 315 co-sponsors, passed the House _unanimously_. As we noted at the time, this is fairly incredible. In these contentious times -- especially on issues related to surveillance and law enforcement -- to have a unanimous vote on a law that says "get a warrant" if you want access to emails, is quite incredible. But, of course, even with that much support on that side of Congress, the Senate has a way of killing ECPA reform each and every year. Last year, a few Senators -- including Jeff Sessions, who is likely to be our next Attorney General -- tried to bury it with ridiculous amendments that would expand surveillance.

On Monday, the reintroduced Email Privacy Act easily passed the House via a voice vote, showing that our Congressional Members still recognize how important this is. Of course, now it gets to go back to the Senate, and we saw how well that worked last year. And then we have to believe that President Trump will sign the bill. Stranger things have happened, of course, but it still seems like a longshot that real ECPA reform will become law this year. It's great that Rep. Kevin Yoder, along with Reps. Jared Polis, Bob Goodlatte, John Conyers, Ted Poe, Suzan DelBene, Will Hurd, Jerry Nadler, Doug Collins and Judy Chu keep pushing this bill. I disagree with many of the folks on that list on a number of other issues we cover, but the fact that they're willing to support basic 4th Amendment concepts for email is worthy of recognition. Now, hopefully, the Senate won't try to muck it up again.

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Filed Under: 4th amendment, ecpa, ecpa reform, email, email privacy act, irs, kevin yoder, sec, warrants

question: What is the 4th Amendment?

answer: It prohibits unreasonable searches and seizures. It also sets requirements for issuing warrants.

question: Briefly explain what the ECPA was all about.

answer: It extended government officials' right to access electronic data on a server longer than 180 days without a warrant.

question: Why had there been efforts to reform the ECPA

answer: Because it gave law enforcement officers the right to access email on servers without a warrant.

question: Why was it considered important to reform the ECPA

answer: To ensure the right to privacy as led by the 4th Amendment.

question: What were the efforts made to fix the ECPA?

answer: The Email Privacy Act was set up with 315 co-sponsors to reform the ECPA, and they succeeded in gaining unanimous votes by congress.

question: Why did the Senate try to squash ECPA reforms?

answer: It is not stated.

question: In what way does the 4th Amendment relate to the Email Privacy Act?

answer: The 4th Amendment is about the right to privacy, and that's what the Email Privacy Act is about.

question: Write a ~6 sentence summary.

answer: This article talks about the issues with the ECPA, which gave the right to law enforcement to have access to emails that have stayed on a server for 180 days. The ECPA was passed in 1986, a time when there wasn't cloud computing. Several attempts were made to reform the law and thus came about the Email Privacy Act. The ECA had 315 co-sponsors and had a unanimous vote by the House to ensure that law enforcement gets a warrant to have access to emails. However, the reform attempts had been trampled upon by the Senate every year, with ridiculous amendments to expand surveillance. Another attempt by the Email Privacy Act was made to reform the ECPA with support by Congress, and with hopes, President Trump would sign the bill, and the Senate wouldn't try to hinder it again.


text:
[Josef Tabachnyk] JOSEF TABACHNYK (born 15 July 1947 in Schytomyr) is an artist living in Nuremberg, who specialises in making bronze sculptures of people, animals and abstract forms. His most famous works include Knut the Dreamer, the Willy-Brandt memorial, a statue of Adolf Dassler as well as memorials for victims of war in Saint Petersburg, Schytomyr, Novohrad-Volynskyi and Slovechne.

Biography

Tabachnyk was born in Ukraine. From 1970 to 1976 he studied Sculpture and Architecture at the University of Malerie in former Leningrad.[1] He moved with his family in 1997 to Germany and has lived ever since in Nuremberg.[2][3]

Famous works

[Monument 'Knut the Dreamer' for the polar bear Knut in the Berlin Zoological Garden), made from bronze und granit.] [Willy-Brandt-Monument in Nuremberg, Bronze, 2009]

Before his move to Germany, Tabachnyk already had created a series of monuments in Ukraine. In 1996, the Memorial for the Victims of the Tragedy in the Wild of Bogunija was installed, depicting the victims of a tragedy which took place during the Second World War, in which prisoners of war and citizens were shot. The memorial combines a 6.5-meter-high granite monument with a bronze figure. In 1995 the Memorial for the Victims of Fascism was opened at the site of a mass grave in Novohrad-Volynskyi where Jews were killed during the Second World War. Tabachnyk used granite for the material, as well as for the Memorial for the burned down villages in Slovechne which was unveiled in 1980. His sculpture “The Magic Horse” which recreates the myth of the same name, was created out of cement, and was installed in 1989 at the recreation park in Schytomyr.

In May 2006, Tabachnyk's life-size statue of Adidas founder Adolf Dassler was installed at the Adi Dassler stadium in Herzogenaurach. The life-size, bronze statue was reproduced in various sizes and now also stands at the new flagship Adidas store in New York City, which is the biggest Adidas store worldwide.[4] The opening of the sculpture in New York was on 1 December 2016.[5][6][7] Since January 2019 another original of the statue is placed at the entrance to the Adidas-Store at 22 Avenue des Champs-Élysées in Paris.[8]

In 2008, Tabachnyk won a competition with his design of the Willy Brandt Memorial in Nuremberg. The bronze sculpture is situated at Willy-Brandt-Platz, and depicts the Federal Chancellor and Nobel Prize Winner sitting on a bench. On 9 November 2009, the sculpture was unveiled by Ulrich Maly, descendants of Willy Brandt including Hans-Jochen Vogel and Tabachnyk himself.

In the Aquapark of the Nuremberg Zoo, a bronze sculpture of group of polar bears can be seen since 11 May 2007.[9] The group contains a bear mother playing with her child.

A further bear sculpture which was unveiled in November 2010 in the entrance area of Nuremberg zoo, and carries the title “Brown little bear with a worm”. The sculpture displays a small brown bear lying down on his back playing with a worm.

Since November 2012, the bronze sculpture “The Tree of Life” has been standing in the residential area of the Nuremberg zoo. Within the tree, different generations which play a role in the life cycle are depicted and their meanings are implied.[10]

At the end of 2011, Tabachnyk's winning sculpture of “Knut the Dreamer” was unveiled in the Berlin Zoological Garden.[11] It consists of a bronze-cast polar bear, which lies on two ice-sheets made from white granite. On 24 October 2012 Bernhard Blaszkiewitz and Josef Tabachnyk jointly unveiled the 1.40-meter-long and 1.15-meter-wide figure near the polar bear enclosure.[12]

Tabachnyk's Kicker Statue which depicts a football player performing a backwards overheard kick was unveiled on 22 May 2014 in front of the newly designed Kicker Sport Magazine building in Nuremberg's Badstraße.

Miscellaneous works

Miscellaneous works Josef Tabachnyk created a sculpture series titled “Small memorials for great people”, which includes depictions of Albert Einstein, Jakob Wasserman, Hermann Kesten and Sigmund Freud.

[1] Eintrag an der Universität für Malerei, Bildhauerei und Architektur in St.Petersburg

[2] Das russische Staatliche Literatur- und Kunstarchiv

[3] National Union of Artists der Ukraine

[4] http://invidis.de/2016/12/digital-signage-retail-weltgroesster-adidas-store-in-new-york-eroeffnet/ article: Weltgrößter Adidas Store in New York eröffnet, on invidis.de on 12 December 2016

[5] https://www.engadget.com/2016/12/10/adidas-new-flagship-store-new-york-city/ Opening of Adi Dassler Sculpture in New York, published on engadget.com on 12 November 2016

[6] http://www.singaporenews.sg/technology/inside-adidas-new-tech-infused-store-in-new-york-city/ Inside Adidas' new tech-infused store in New York City on Singapur News on 10 December 2016

[7] https://www.nytimes.com/2017/01/16/fashion/adidas-nike-superstores-athletic-clothing-shopping.html?_r=1 Where the Clothes Do Most of the Work, New York Times, 2017-01-16 (shown in 4th image)

[8]

[9] press release of the Nuremberg Zoo, 2007 (PDF; 24 kB)

[10] article 'Lebensbaum blüht ständig', newspaper ' Nürnberger Nachrichten', 6 November 2012, page 25

[11] _Monument for polar bear._

[12]

title: Josef Tabachnyk

question: Who is Josef Tabachnyk?

answer: An artist who specializes in making bronze sculptures.

question: What is he known for?

answer: Famous works like Knut the Dreamer, Willy-Brandt memorial, a statue of Adolf Dassler, and memorials for victims of war in Saint Petersburg, Schytomyr, Novohrad-Volynski and Slovechne.

question: Where did he study?

answer: The University of Malerie in former Leningrad.

question: What are some notable works of his?

answer: The Memorial for Victims of war, his life-size statue of Adidas founder Adolf Dassler, a reproduction of which stands at the Adidas flagship store in New York City, the Willy Brandt Memorial, a sculpture of polar bears at the Nuremberg Zoo, Knut the Dreamer at the Berlin Zoological Garden, etc.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: Josef Tabachnyk is an artist who specializes in making bronze sculptures of people, animals, and abstract forms. He studied Sculpture and Architecture at the  University of Malerie in former Leningrad. He is known for The Memorial for Victims of war, his life-size statue of Adidas founder Adolf Dassler, a reproduction of which stands at the Adidas flagship store in New York City, the Willy Brandt Memorial, a sculpture of polar bears at the Nuremberg Zoo, Knut the Dreamer at the Berlin Zoological Garden, etc.


text:
[The Main Square complex] MAIN SQUARE is a complex of four apartment buildings in Toronto, Canada. The three-hectare site houses about 2000 people. It is located in the eastern part of the city at the intersection of Main Street and Danforth Avenue. The complex is located just north of the railway lines and the Danforth GO Station and just south of the Main Street subway station. It consists of four towers, the tallest being 32 stories. At ground level, there is also a shopping plaza along Danforth and a city-run community centre.

The complex was built in 1972 in a joint venture with the Canada Mortgage and Housing Corporation (CMHC), a government entity, and a private developer. It was built on land by the railroad that had previously belonged to the Canadian National Railway. By the mid-1980s, like many buildings built in that style and period, the complex already had a down and out appearance, with an empty concrete frontage and public space. All the shops in the plaza did not have doors opening directly on to Danforth, but were only accessible through doors leading into the complex.

CMHC sold its share of the building in 1998, and it is now a fully private enterprise. Since 1998, there has been significant investment in improvements to the existing buildings. These improvements have occurred in stages and have included updates to the building facades, lobbies, halls and infrastructure (boilers, windows, elevators and roofs); improvements to the centre court and garage (reconstruction of the eastern section of the garage, repainting and additional landscaping). By the latter part of the 2000s, there was revitalization of the shops and services along Danforth Avenue, and conversion of vacant office and locker space into units providing better supervision of the open space around the building.[1] The revitalization of the complex is in step with the gentrification and building boom that was happening in the 2000s, but was subsequently dampened by the influx of gangs and prostitution in late 2007 on Danforth just to the east.

In 2006, the city of Toronto rezoned the area, permitting the owner, Talisker Corporation, to build two more towers in the complex, thus adding 500 new rental housing units to the existing Main Square development, which will provide for appropriate residential intensification that is transit-accessible. As part of the proposal, both the existing and new rental buildings were to be secured as rental housing, along with the improvements to the existing buildings, the provision of new and refurbished amenity spaces and improved landscaped areas. The proposed development would also secure significant community benefits through a negotiated agreement under Section 37 of the Planning Act of the City of Toronto.[2]

[1] PDF

[2]

title: Main Square (Toronto)

question: How many apartment buildings are in the Main Square?

answer: Four.

question: How many people does the complex house?

answer: About 2000.

question: When was the complex built?

answer: 1972.

question: When did the Canada Mortgage and Housing Corporation sell its share of the building?

answer: 1998.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: The Main Square is a complex of four apartment buildings in Toronto, Canada. The three-hectare site houses about 2000 people in the eastern part of the city.