text:
A story I wrote while waiting for the train one day. I have never read it, or attempted to edit it after I was finished. It is how I felt during an argument with my girlfriend. Enjoy.

An Afternoon In The Park

     There is an old man that everyday can be found on the same bench, feeding the same birds, and he always shows up at 12-noon on the dot. Although few take notice of him, he goes about his day and keeps to himself.
	It has been almost a year since his wife passed, and everyday his age starts to become more and more transparent. Every Saturday his son keeps him company. Usually the two sit in silence and face outward toward those passing by or the birds as they wrestle over crumbs of bread. Occasionally one nods to the other, and gets acknowledgments through a grunt. Call it guilt; call it the universal fear of regret that every son holds onto when they realize that they can lose a father without really ever knowing him. Today the son decides to reach out and learn something about the people who brought him into the world.
“Tell me about mom.”
	The old man stops moving. He looks out to the horizon, up to the sky, and finally right into his son’s eyes and offers a simple response of, “She was my heart and soul.” He maintained eye contact until he could no longer hide the weight of the tears that were beginning to form in his eyes. Even as a proud man he could not hide how much he truly missed his wife. Her death left him a hollow shell that could only continue on by maintaining the same mundane schedule.
	The son sat silently in a state of shocked disbelief. Throughout his life he thought he had seen every emotion possible from his father. Yet he had never seen grief such as this. When his father looked him in the eyes he could see an old lonely man. While the two had a loving relationship they had never really connected with each other. His father’s face displayed the many hardships and loss that go along with the happiness and joy in life. The youthfulness that he always attributed to his father had been replaced with a visage that resembled a young boy whose dog has ran away never to return. He wanted to lighten the mood so he tried to recall a happy family memory.
“Remember my first day of college and moving into the dorms? Remember how much mom embarrassed me by handing me a box of condoms in front of that big group of girls in the lobby?”
	Sitting on his left, all the son could see was a smile and chuckle as the old man replied, “Your face was redder than the school’s mascot.” His son would never know, but a single tear feel down the right side of the old man’s cheek as he relieved such a happy memory.

“Didn’t you and mom meet at state?” asked the son.

“Yep.” The old man replied.

“She always told me you went there to be with her and how romantic it was.”

“Nope, I went there for myself.”

	This surprised the son. He had grown up with the idea that his parents met because his father went to State to be with his mother; if this wasn’t the case, than what about all the other stories?

“Didn’t you quit drinking for mom?”

“Nope, I did it for myself.”

“What about your job? Wasn’t there a time you got offered a corporate position and you turned it down to start family?”

“Nope, I did it for myself.”

	Frustrated, his son couldn’t believe what he was hearing from the man he called father his whole life.

“What about all the money you worked for? The Corvette? The house you bought? Why you quit smoking and drinking?”

	With each question asked the old man would give the same response: “I did it for myself.” Fed up with getting nowhere the son stopped his inquiry, and the two sat in silence for a while. Eventually it became overwhelming to the son and he blurted out uncontrollably, “What did you do for mom then?” Once again the old man looked out, took a deep breath and replied:

“Everything else.”

	For the rest of the afternoon the two sat together in silence. For the first time in his life the son felt that he finally saw a glimpse of his father that he swore did not exist. The old man never made a claim toward achieving perfection in his life, but those two words will forever leave an imprint on the son’s impression of the man he calls his father.

title: An Afternoon In The Park

question: - Why does the son seem so surprised by his father's answers?

answer: - His mother implied her husband's efforts to improve their lives was a gesture to her and their relationship, which the father denies.

question: - What happened to his mother?

answer: - She passed away.

question: - Why does his father seem remorseful during their conversation?

answer: - He's looking back on his marriage with his recently departed wife.

question: - Why does the son seem very curious about his father's relationship with his wife?

answer: - The story implies that the son asked because he fears losing his father without ever really knowing him.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: There is an old man that can be found on the same bench every day, whose wife passed a year ago. His son visits him every Saturday to check on him and decides to ask questions about his departed mother. His father's answers surprise him as he realizes their relationship was not as romantic as his mother made it out to be.


split: train

text:
[The 9 districts of the present municipality of Genoa. The original municipality correspond to the Municipio I Centro Est and part of Municipio II Centro Ovest (cyan area)] The term GREAT GENOA (GRANDE GENOVA) refers to the present area of the municipality of Genoa, in the north west of Italy. Great Genoa extends for over 30 km along the coast of Ligurian Sea from Nervi to Voltri, and up the Polcevera valley of the Polcevera river and the Bisagno river valley of the Bisagno river.

Great Genoa dates from 1926, when 19 municipalities were added to the six municipalities incorporated in 1874.[1][2]

This aggregation makes Genoa a polycentric city, as the Genoese urban area is made up of several towns each with a strong sense of belonging, a consolidated economic and social structure and an old town, so they are not perceived as “suburbs”. Reflecting the strong local identity the inhabitants of many neighborhoods, former municipality, still say “I am going to Genoa” and not “I am going downtown” to state their intention to go to the city center.[3][4][5]

Historical development

The aggregation of neighboring municipalities was in 1926, but the process started many years earlier.[6]

Until 1874 the municipality of the city of Genoa was the same as the urban area surrounded by the 17th century city walls, divided into six districts, called “_sestieri_”:

-   Maddalena
-   Molo
-   -   Prè
-   -

With increasing population in the 19th century, the city expanded into the hills behind the old town, but still within the city walls: during that time were built the stately neighborhood of Castelletto, and those of and for working class people.[7]

The annexation of 1874

After this first urban expansion it was necessary to find space for new facilities and residential neighborhoods for the middle classes.

In 1873 the mayor of Genoa proposed a plan of territorial aggrandizement in the lower Val Bisagno, which was subsequently approved by a decree of King Vittorio Emanuele II which annexed six municipalities to Genoa on 1 January 1874:[8][9][10]

-   -   -   San Francesco d’Albaro
-   -   -

The annexation of 1926

Great Genoa was completed in 1926 when 19 municipalities were annexed to Genoa. Among them, beside some small municipalities, were towns with a strong social identity such as Sampierdarena and Sestri Ponente.[11] With this expansion the population of Genoa grew from 335,000 to 580,000 inhabitants.[12]

Annexed municipalities

In the East:

-   -   Nervi
-   Quarto dei Mille
-   -

In the Bisagno valley:

-   -   -

In the Polcevera valley:

-   Bolzaneto
-   Borzoli
-   Pontedecimo
-   Rivarolo Ligure
-

In the West:

-   Cornigliano Ligure
-   Pegli
-   -   Sampierdarena
-   Sestri Ponente
-   Voltri

File:Nervi - Genoa 1716 (8252359458).jpg|Nervi File:Genova Molassana panorama.jpg|Molassana File:Genova Bolzaneto 01.jpg|Bolzaneto File:Panorama Gazzo3.JPG|Sestri Ponente

[1] M. Spesso, G. Brancucci, “Pietre di Liguria nell’architettura di Genova – L’età del fascismo” (“The Ligurian stones in the architecture of Genoa - The age of fascism”) FrancoAngeli

[2]

[3]

[4] P. Fusero, “Genova: periferie e centri storici : dietro le quinte della capitale europea della cultura 2004”, (“Genoa: suburbs and old towns: behind the scenes of the European Capital of Culture 2004”), February 5, 2001

[5] F. Ferrari, “Genova, città a due volti” ("Genoa, city with two faces ")

[6] Historical notes in www.guidadigenova.it

[7] Antida Gazzola, in “Dalla città diffusa alla città diramata” (“From the sprawling city to the branched city”), by Angelo Detragiache, FrancoAngeli, 2003

[8]

[9]

[10] City of Genoa, Office of Statistics, “Demographic Atlas of the city”, Genoa, July 2008

[11] “Storia dell'architettura italiana. Il primo Novecento” (“History of Italian architecture. The early 20th century”, Electa, 2005, cited in 1

[12]

title: Great Genoa

question: How many municipalities in total were incorporated into Great Genoa?

answer: 25

question: Who approved the annexation of 1874?

answer: King Vittorio Emanuele II

question: Where is Genoa?

answer: The north west of Italy

question: What do Genoese people say when they are going to the city center?

answer: "I am going to Genoa"

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: Great Genoa refers to the present area of Genoa, a municipality in the north west of Italy. It was formed via the incorporation of a total of 25 separate municipalities.


text:
RICHARD STEELE (born January 26, 1944) is an American retired boxing referee who was inducted into the International Boxing Hall of Fame.[1]

A former member of the United States Marine Corps, Steele was a teammate of future world Heavyweight champion Ken Norton in the Marines.[2] He began his career as an amateur boxer while with the Marines, compiling a record of 12 wins and 3 losses before launching a professional career. Steele was All Marines in 1963-64 and participated in the 1964 Olympic Trials, and was inducted into the US Marines Boxing Hall of Fame in 2017. He had 16 wins and 4 defeats as a professional fighter. He was also a contestant on To Tell the Truth on April 9, 1991 as the central character.

Steele began referring fights in the 1970s up until 2007, and he went on to referee in 167 world title fights around the world. His first major fight was the 1977 slugfest between unbeaten Mexican champions Carlos Zarate and Alfonso Zamora. Among his other notable fights were Aaron Pryor's knock out of Alexis Argüello in their ten rounds in their rematch and Mike Tyson's defeat of Donovan Ruddock in 1991,[3] Marvin Hagler and Thomas Hearns' 1985 middleweight championship bout, Hagler's 1987 loss to Sugar Ray Leonard, and the first of two fights between Julio César Chávez and Meldrick Taylor,[4] which he stopped with 2 seconds remaining of the final round.

Controversial fights

Steele was sometimes involved in controversial decisions. In the fight between Tyson and Ruddock he officiated, Steele elected to stop the fight in the seventh round as Ruddock appeared to be hurt by several stiff shots by Tyson. This, however, was in contrast to how the fight had gone up until that point with both fighters going back and forth and Tyson being hurt by several of Ruddock's shots. Steele's decision caused a near riot in the crowd, who were all infuriated by the call, and he had to be escorted from the ring for his own protection.

However, what is regarded as Steele's biggest controversy in his long career is the first fight between Julio Cesar Chavez and Meldrick Taylor.[5] Taylor had been winning the fight entering the twelfth and final round and was ahead by enough of a margin on all three judges' scorecards that it would have been impossible for Chavez to win except by knockout. Despite his large lead Taylor had been taking a great deal of punishment from Chavez the entire fight, however, and the undefeated Mexican champion knocked Taylor down with seventeen seconds left in the fight.[6] After Taylor got to his feet after a count of five, Steele asked him twice if he was okay to continue. After Taylor failed to respond, instead looking at his corner, Steele stopped the fight with two seconds remaining and Chavez was declared the victor by technical knockout. Although many fans criticized his decision, considering how much time was remaining in the fight, Steele defended the decision by saying that he was only protecting Taylor from further injury and that “no fight is worth a man's life”. After the fight, Taylor was examined by ringside doctor Flip Homansky and found to have suffered a facial fracture and kidney damage so severe he was urinating pure blood. The decision was upheld after an appeal by Taylor's handlers.

Outside of boxing

Outside the boxing rings, Steele has made a name for himself as a community conscious person, opening a gym, the _Richard Steele Boxing Club_ in Las Vegas,[7] and helping out with Salvation Army charities. In 1999, he was given an award by South African president Nelson Mandela for refusing to referee fights in South Africa while the Apartheid laws were still in use there.[8]

[1]

[2]

[3] Referee Steele not a stranger to controversy

[4] Boxing: Notebook; Power Struggle to Control Chavez

[5]

[6]

[7]

[8]

title: Richard Steele (referee)

question: What may have been the reason behind Steele's controversial decision involving Tyson and Ruddock?

answer: It may be implied that Steele was being favorable towards Ruddock maybe for personal reasons.

question: Does what Steele did in the fights seem ethical?

answer: No, as a referee he is not supposed to be favorable towards anyone in the fight, Steele was picking sides in these controversies hence it cannot be deemed as ethical.

question: What part of Steele's life as a referee is worth being appreciated?

answer: Steele refused to referee fights in South Africa while the Apartheid laws were still in use there, this part of his career is worth being appreciated.

question: Did Steele's career as a member of the Marine Corps help him in becoming a referee?

answer: It may be implied that it did help him in becoming a referee since he began his career as an amateur boxer in the Marines.


text:
The Lizard by skin-suit

A witch makes a bet with a young Tiny.

He must go into the cave and retrieve the diamond of youth. If he wins, she will give him eternal youth. However, at some point he will encounter the horrible cave wizard, and he must slay it or it will kill him.

So the Tiny agrees to the bet.

He wonders into the cave, leaving breadcrumbs as his trail. He finds it is a long and windy cave.

When he gets to the end of the cave, his torchlight reveals the diamond of youth... grasped in the arms of a skeleton. He looks high and low for the cave lizard and sees none, so he grabs the diamond from its arms.

The witch says, "You failed to slay the lizard!"

"What?" says the Tiny. "But I didn't even see the lizard!"

The witch says, "The lizard doesn't eat Tinies. He eats bread."

title: The Lizard

question: What does Tiny agree to do?

answer: He agrees to retrieve the diamond of youth for the witch.

question: Where does Tiny go to retrieve the diamond?

answer: Tiny wanders into a cave for the diamond.

question: What does the witch promise to Tiny in exchange for the diamond?

answer: Eternal youth.

question: Who will Tiny encounter in the cave?

answer: Tiny is told he'd encounter a cave lizard that he shall slay.

question: Write a ~4 sentence summary.

answer: Young Tiny agrees to a bet with a witch. He sets off into a cave to retrieve a youth diamond for the witch. In exchange the witch would grant him eternal youth. He shall kill the cave lizard he'd encounter in the cave.


text:
I met Randall Finn two years ago, when I was working at Stevens Laboratories in Boston. At the time, I was the manager of a drug research project, testing the safety of an antidepressant. We had just about finished our trials on mice, and I was looking for a chance to do a human trial. Problem is, there aren’t too many people out there who are willing to risk their own safety for the sake of scientific advancement. I didn’t have the budget to pay well, either. So when I heard that a white male in his mid-thirties was offering to participate in any scientific studies, I called him immediately. On the line, his voice was rich and warm, like I imagine some kind of singer or a good movie dad would talk. He said he’d come right over.
Randall lived about an hour away, so I spent the intervening time imagining what he would look like. That voice made me think of a rustic cowboy, retired and raising a family of three kids, by himself. He was probably a burly guy, with just a day or two of stubble on his chin. I sat down in my little office and Googled him. As it turned out, I didn’t get much right except that he was a burly guy with a day of stubble on his chin. In fact, he worked at a lab like mine in Sharon. Actually, he ran a lab like Draper Labs in Sharon. Randall had a classic rags-to-riches story; he was born into a poor family, did extraordinarily well in school, got a scholarship, and graduated cum laude from Stanford. He started working at Sharon Labs immediately after graduating, and within eight years, he was running it. I couldn’t think of why he was trying to be a test subject. Maybe it was a publicity stunt to get more test subjects for his lab.

When my secretary let him into my office, I couldn’t believe it. This time, the only thing I recognized was his stubble. He was thinner than most of my lab rats, and just as pale. He looked like a man who’d never seen the sun in his life.
“Dr. Wilson, I will try to be as honest as possible, and I hope you will do the same. I do not have the energy for politeness or sugarcoating.” He spoke quickly and precisely, as if he were reading cells in a spreadsheet, but he paused every few words to take a shallow breath. I felt my eyes lock with his as he leaned forward to emphasize his next sentence.

“I am dying. Quickly. I have approximately four months before I die. I have not come to you for help. My illness is terminal, and has no cure. I do not expect you to find one in the time I have left. I plan to make myself useful in my final months. As you might guess, I have no objections to anything that will kill me within a year, or nine months, or six. Do you have a problem with this?”

He gripped the edge of my desk tightly and pushed himself back up to lean back in his chair. I could feel him staring at my head as I looked to the side. At one level, I was overjoyed. Here was the ideal test subject: he has no fear of death or injury, and for good reason. He could walk straight up to Chernobyl and kick the reactor walls and it wouldn’t shorten his life by a millisecond. On the other hand, I couldn’t imagine not trying to help him. If nothing else, I had to know what was killing him.
“That sounds…fine to me, Dr. Finn. Now, if you’ll allow me, I’ll try to explain briefly the experiment that you’re signing up for…”

For the next three hours, we talked through every nuance, every control, every damn data point in my entire experiment. True to his word, he did not spare my feelings. Twice, he made a hissing noise through his teeth and said “Bullshit.” He didn’t shout, but he said it with such intensity that it felt like being slapped. As we went over the experiment, I realized that he was testing not just the rigor of the experiment, but also my intelligence. I was a new graduate student again, doing my thesis defense against a jury of scientists much smarter and older than me. It was possibly the most intense three hours of my life. Just as I had started to explain what exactly he would be doing in the lab, he stopped me.

“Thank you, Dr. Wilson, you’ve been very informative. I’ll be here tomorrow at eight o’clock to begin work.” He buttoned his suit as he stood up and walked towards the door, grabbing his jacket on the way out.

“Wait!” He turned around smoothly, pivoting on his left foot to face me.

“Why are you dying?” I came out from behind my desk. I had a sudden thought that if he tried to walk away, I would grab him and hold him in my office until he told me. He gave a little smile, just using the left side of his mouth.

“It’s a genetic illness. At the moment, my body is consuming itself. I can’t process enough food to keep myself alive.” His smile widened, looking more like a wolf’s grin.

“Funny, isn’t it…all those starving African children dying of malnutrition, and here I am, surrounded by wealth and power, dying the same way. Some kind of karmic justice for my sins. I wish I could remember what I did to deserve this.” He nodded slightly and walked out the door, moving so quickly and quietly I didn’t have a chance to decide whether to keep him or let him go.

That night, I researched everything I could on genetic diseases, wasting syndromes, ketogenesis…I couldn’t find anything like what he was describing. His male ancestors did seem to have wasted away; every obituary I could find said that the Finn men had simply grown weaker and thinner until they died. It was incredible. I felt like stopping my experiment and devoting my next four months to studying Randall Finn. He really was a mystery. But he didn’t want me trying to cure him. There were other mysteries to be solved, ones that didn’t involve my own test subjects.

(continued)

title: Randall Finn [unfinished] [feedback much appreciated]

question: What does the story say about Randall Finn?

answer: He's an accomplished researcher leading a private lab. He agrees to participate in a dangerous drug trial despite this because he's dying of a genetic condition. His condition means he can't process food, and he's wasting away. At the meeting with Dr. Wilson, he's sharp and unapologetic, examining Wilson's experimental setup in detail. He's not afraid of the drug's dangers because his remaining lifespan is only four months.

question: What does the story say about Dr. Wilson?

answer: Wilson is the manager of a drug research project working at Stevens Laboratories. The drug she's working on has just passed trials on mice, and the human trials will begin soon. However, she doesn't have much money to pay those who would be test subjects. Luckily for her, an accomplished researcher, Dr. Finn, volunteers to take part in her experiment. While shocked at first by his participation, she soon learns that it's because Dr. Finn is dying soon. She feels like a student again when explaining her experimental setup under examination by an intelligent and experienced researcher. She's really curious about Dr. Finn's condition but can't find anything concrete except that it exists.

question: What does the story say about how to set up controls for a drug trial?


text:
FRANCIS ROY BROWN (September 13, 1896 in Stockton, Manitoba – November 30, 1960) was a politician in Manitoba, Canada. He served in the Legislative Assembly of Manitoba as a Liberal-Progressive from 1953 to 1958.

Brown was educated in Winnipeg. He enlisted in the Cycle Corps at the beginning of World War I, and served overseas in France, seeing action at Ypres, Vimy Ridge and Passchendaele. Brown joined the Royal Flying Corps in 1917, and remained with this group until the end of the war.

Francis Roy Brown was throughout his life mistaken for the pilot that shot down Baron Von Richthofen, a.k.a.“The Red Baron”. That credit remains with A. Roy Brown, of Carleton Place, Ontario. Both Roy Browns were enlisted with the Royal Flying Corps at the same time. They both returned to Canada with English 'war brides', and both established their careers in the early aviation industry flourish of the 1920s, '30s, and '40s. For the remainder of their lives, F. Roy Brown would be known as “Arctic Roy”, while A. Roy Brown was known as “Richthofen Roy”. They met for the first time at a POW reunion in 1937.

Brown was intrinsic to the discovery of a group of seven men who were lost in the Arctic in late 1929. It was the greatest air search and rescue in Canadian history and remains as such, given they had no radar or radios. Col. C.D.W. MacAlpine and his exploration party of cartographers, geographers from McGill University set off to the chart the North, and after the undercarriage collapsed in their aircraft, they were lost in the far northern reaches of the Arctic, near Baker Lake see The Montreal Gazette November–December articles entitled "Lost in the Barrens!".

After the war, he was one of four who founded Western Canada Airways in Manitoba, and was superintendent and chief pilot of the company's airmail operations from 1930 to 1932. He was Manager of the Lac du Bonnet government airbase during the early 1930s. He helped establish Wings Limited, and Central Northern Airways, a predecessor of TransAir Limited, in 1947, and served as its vice-president. He was also a member of the Winnipeg Flying Club, and an executive on the Wartime Pilots' & Observers Association. During World War II he was a test pilot for McDonald Brothers now Bristol Aerospace. Brown had a legacy association with A.V.Roe, having flown numerous single engine planes designed by Roe during his extensive years of bush flying.

Brown's piloting skills were undoubtedly useful to his political career, as he represented the northern constituency of Rupertsland in the Manitoba assembly. During the 1950s, many of Rupertsland's communities were remote and isolated, and could only be reached by plane. Brown himself was credited with bringing considerable development into the region.

He was elected to the Manitoba legislature in the 1953 provincial election, defeating fellow Liberal-Progressive H. Boulette, 1,136 votes to 982. In this period of Manitoba history, voting in Rupertsland was deferred for logistical reasons until after the rest of the province had voted. The Liberal-Progressives had already won a majority government, and no opposition parties contested the constituency.

Brown was resoundingly defeated when he ran for re-election in the 1958 campaign. The Progressive Conservatives under Dufferin Roblin had already won a minority government in the rest of the province, and there was little incentive for voters in this remote area to elect an opposition member. Brown lost to Progressive Conservative candidate Joseph Jeannotte, 2,342 votes to 511.

He was posthumously inducted to Canada's Aviation Hall of Fame in 1975.

title: Roy Brown (Manitoba politician)

question: Who is Francis Roy Brown?

answer: He is a Liberal-Progressive politician in Canada. He served the Legislative Assembly of Manitoba from 1953-1958. Long before his political career, Francis was a pilot for the Royal Flying Corps -he joined in 1917 and served until the end of World War I.

question: Name an interesting fact about Francis Roy Brown.

answer: He joined the Royal Flying Corps at the same time as A. Roy Brown, the famous pilot from Ontario who shot down the Red Baron. Because of the similarities the two men shared, Francis was often mistaken as the person who performed the feat. While he didn't shoot down the Red Baron, Francis was still an accomplished pilot who earned the nickname, Arctic Roy.

question: If Francis Roy Brown did not shoot down the Red Baron, what feats did he actually do?

answer: Francis is credited for the discovery of Col. C.D.W. MacAlpine and his party who were lost in the arctic. Since there were no radios or radar, this is considered to be the one of the greatest feats in search and rescue history.

question: Did his experience as a pilot influence his political career?

answer: Francis history in piloting made him a natural fit for the northen constituency of Rupertsland, as the area was mostly remote and isolated and could only be reached by plane.

question: Write a ~5 sentence summary.

answer: He is a Liberal-Progressive politician in Canada. He served the Legislative Assembly of Manitoba from 1953-1958. Long before his political career, Francis was a pilot for the Royal Flying Corps -he joined in 1917 and served until the end of World War I. People often mistook him for A. Roy Brown, the famous pilot who brought down the Red Baron. His experience as a pilot helped him represent Ruperstland as it was an isolated territory that could only be reached by plane.


text:
International Women's Day is a day to celebrate the achievements of women – but this year, activists are planning more radical action: a global women's strike.

On 8 March, women around the world will walk out of their jobs for the day to protest the marginalisation of women, inequality in the workplace, sexual violence and the curbing of reproductive rights.

Earlier this year, millions of women took part in women's marches across the world on the first day of Donald Trump's presidency, in solidarity with the Women's March on Washington.

The organisers of the Washington march have declared 8 March "A Day Without a Woman", alongside an International Women's Strike taking place in more than 30 countries on the same day.

The international strike might be the largest of its kind in recent history, but this isn't the first time women have gone on strike for equal rights. As early as the 1700s, women have been at the centre of political and social upheavals – from the French revolution to the abortion protests in Poland last year.

One of the most significant events of the French Revolution was the women's march on Versailles on 5 October 1789. The protest began in Paris' markets over the price and scarcity of bread, but the demonstrations merged with the actions of revolutionaries seeking a constitutional monarchy for France.

[Women's march on Versailles]
Women from the food market in Paris march towards Versailles circa 1789 Hulton Archive/Getty Images

A group of women from a market turned into a thousand-strong crowd who stormed the city armory for weapons and marched to the Palace of Versailles, which was taken over by the mob. The following day, the king and the majority of the French Assembly returned with the crowd to Paris. What began as a small protest signified something much greater – the change of power and the political upheaval about to overtake France.

A century ago, women in the United States were not guaranteed the right to vote. On 3 March 1913, the first major national effort to secure universal women's suffrage took place with a huge parade in Washington DC. The day before the inauguration of President Woodrow Wilson, 8,000 participants marched through the city in front of thousands of spectators – the majority of whom were men to watch the presidential inauguration.

By the end of the day more than 100 marchers had been taken to hospital – some were trampled and others assaulted – which led to congressional hearings and job losses among the police. Nevertheless, the march was the beginning of a seven-year battle for the right to vote, which was eventually won by women in 1920.

In one of the largest demonstrations in South African history, 20,000 women descended on Pretoria on 9 August 1956 to protest the Apartheid pass laws – a form of internal passport system that was one of the dominant features of the country's apartheid, a system of racial segregation and discrimination. The demonstration was organised by the Federation of South African Women, who played a key part in South Africa's anti-apartheid resistance.

[Argentina women's march]
Women take part in a march against gender-based violence in Buenos Aires in 2016 Eitan Abramovich/AFP/Getty Images

On 24 October 1975, 90% of Iceland's women refused to work, cook or look after children in one of the most significant – and effective – protests against inequality in Icelandic history. Thousands of women turned out for the demonstration against employment discrimination and pay discrepancies, in a move that would help cement Iceland as a bastion for gender equality.

Last year, Polish women staged a mass strike based on the Icelandic movement in protest of the government's proposal for a total ban on abortion. The strike, aimed at bringing Poland's economy to a standstill, forced businesses to close across the country as women took to the streets over their reproductive rights.

Since 1993, the former Soviet satellite has had one of the most prohibitive abortion laws in Europe. Under the proposed laws, women who had an abortion could have faced up to five years in prison and women who miscarried could have been at risk of being charged on suspicion of abortion. After the strike, the abortion ban was scrapped by the Parliament.

Last October, hundreds of thousands of women in Argentina took part in a protest against gender-based violence, after an attack in which a teenage girl was raped and tortured. At 1pm on 19 October, women across the country stopped working for one hour for the strike. Femicide rates are high in Argentina and according to the NGO La Casa del Encuentro, a woman is killed every 30 hours because of her gender.

question: Explain the events of the news.

answer: On March 8, a global woman's strike is set to protest the marginalization of women, inequality in the workplace, sexual violence, and the curbing of reproductive rights. This strike will be the largest of its kind in recent memory.

question: Explain the significance of the events in the article.

answer: The planned March 8 strike follows a long legacy of women's lead initiatives for equal rights.


text:
I awake. The red LEDs of my alarm clock next to me glow dimly in the dark. 2:30. I had gotten not but an hour of sleep, but still I know I will not be able to return to it. Ah, sleep, the mindless slumber that has eluded me for years. Ever since *you* left.

I turn the dial on the knob next to my bed. The lamp glows, illuminating the room. I get out of my bed and walk to my front room. I consider putting on music, but decide that the rain outside is enough. Rain is my favorite weather. It rained when we lived in Seattle, do you remember that?

On my table lies a folded note I once had written long ago to you. The paper, now soft from age and wear, seems out-of-place in this kind of world. I open it and read it for what seems like the thousandth time in the last few days. I walk outside. The rain softly lands on my clothes. I'm reminded of the old poem I wrote back in high school, sitting in my English class.

    Swish, sway, flux and flow
    Why this happened I don't know
    The man is dead this much is true
    His body hangs, his life is through

    A cotton rope would form a noose
    Not too tight, not too loose
    His life had flashed before his eyes
    Ending in a suicide

    Pitter-patter, says the rain
    Everybody feels the blame
    For a while, the grief is shared
    But in the end nobody cared

I remembered about how I used to be angry all the time. Angry at my family for some dumb reason. Angry at the world for being the harsh reality that it is. Angry at myself for not quite fitting into the world, the way everyone else does, even the odd little boys and girls who spend their nights alone.

As I walk down my street, a stoplight flickers on. I think I see your before realizing that it was just a fence post. I thought I saw you, but perhaps it was just wishful thinking.

What would I do if we met again? If I could see you once more? *I* certainly don't know. I wouldn't like you to see the way I live my life nowadays, half-drunk and wearing last year's clothes, thinking last year's thoughts.

I think about what I used to live for. I realize that my biggest reason to live was for people who needed me, people who were like you. I guess I let you down then. That's why you left. It turns out that no matter how much I wish I could, I couldn't take responsibility for your happiness.

I think if I could do it over, I would have gone with you. Or maybe a few days later. There's no point now. No point to anything.

We had grown around each other, and when you had left, I collapsed.

title: An ode to suicide

question: What is the relationship between the narrator and the subject?

answer: The narrator was in a relationship with the subject, but the relationship ended. The narrator has not emotionally recovered from this.

question: Why does the narrator not sleep well?

answer: The only information that is given is that it has eluded the narrator since the subject left.

question: Where is this story set?

answer: This story is set in the current time, not in Seattle.

question: Why did the narrator not go with the subject?

answer: The narrator felt he was needed and that he let the subject down. The narrator could not take responsibility for the other person's happiness.

question: Write a ~4 sentence summary.

answer: The narrator wakes up after an hour of sleep. He gets up and listens to the rain. He thinks of his relationship that ended and from which he has not recovered yet. He goes for a walk and thinks back to school and how he would react if he saw his previous girlfriend again.


text:
The bike powers the underground, he was told. A hundred million lights flicker with every rotation of his feet. He rides his bike tirelessly, eternally, pushing the crank that supports the countless lives below.

Meters away is a door in the ground. The door leads to this underground world, where humanity lives and breathes and works and walks around and all those things. But they are allowed to live this life only because the man pedals, day in and day out.

He's never seen them for himself. He was told they exist, assured that his endurance ensures their survival. But he's never looked upon that world.

He could stop of course. But once the bike stops, it cannot start again. The moment he stops pedaling, the lights go out - and all those below are doomed to suffocate in a dark, frozen hell.

That's what he was told anyway.

title: The Bicycle Man

question: What powers the underground?

answer: The bike powers the underground.

question: What happens when the bike stops?

answer: The lights underground go out and the bike cannot start again.

question: Where does the door lead?

answer: IT leads to the underground world.

question: Is the man's knowledge certain?

answer: No, it only seems like that is what he was told.

question: Write a ~4 sentence summary.

answer: A man has bee pedaling a bike that he is told powers the entire underground world. He has never seen this world but pedals endlessly everyday. If he stops, he was told that the lights of the underground world will go out, and all the people will suffocate. Once stopped, the bike cannot start again.


text:
Floral Patterns

The young man handed a ten dollar bill across the counter, exchanging it for the freshly wrapped flowers the lady gave him.
A lovely bouquet, she said. He smiled, thanked her, and walked out of the market pavilion, exiting onto the downtown side street.

The late afternoon was bright and hot and the dewy flowers glistened optimistically. He headed down the street clutching the bouquet, passing market patrons and other sidewalkers, holding the flowers tightly to avoid them being jostled.

He passed through a crowd gathered at a bus stop, avoiding eye contact where possible. Two shirtless, rudely tattooed men sat reclined against a convenience store looking at him.

Faggot, one muttered, hoping his buddy thought he was overheard, hoping he was not overheard.

Probably.

The young man proceeded down the busy city thoroughfare, passing restaurant patios where glasses clinked and couples laughed. A group of ladies in large sunglasses and large necklaces drinking cocktails ogled him quietly as we walked by. He heard them titter and coo and knew their looks followed him. He would be the subject of their conversation for a few minutes.

He paused at a corner, putting the flowers into the crook of his arm to light a cigarette. A large, Greek-lettered man asked approaching him from across the street.

Yo man, could I bum a dart off you bro? he asked while groping his pocket for a lighter.

Sure.

Thanks bro. Cool flowers dude.

Thanks.

Take ‘er easy man, and he walked off back across the street, leaving the young man to light his own cigarette.

He took a few drags before starting down the street again. It was very warm, and sweat pooled on his back. He decided to cut down a shaded alley and get off the main street. His shoes sounded on the chipped asphalt as he stepped off the sidewalk over a torn garbage bag and into the cool, fetid air of the alley. Old brick rose on both sides and the flaked paint of some decayed mural remained visible beneath the city grime.

The alley exited onto a nearly vacant parking lot, and he crossed the hot pavement towards the street. He flipped his half-smoked cigarette back into the alley to join its numerous kin. The moisture had long since evaporated from the flowers he gripped, and their original lustre had faded.

The street was less busy than the one he had just left and he was thankful. The only person visible was a homeless man sitting on a spread of cardboard sipping from a worn paper cup. The young man considered crossing the street to avoid contact but decided it would be too obvious.

Spare some change?

Sorry, he answered looking away as he walked passed quickly.
I’ll take those flowers instead.

Ha, he stated and didn’t break his pace.

The street exited onto another main road and he took a right onto it, joining the herds of people swarming along the sidewalk and the traffic oozing between intersections. Buskers played on either side, and between the noise of engines and tires and voices, acoustic music was audible there, percussion there, and a wailing street person there.

His mouth was dry and his feet swam in his shoes. There was a Starbucks just ahead and he decided to stop for an ice water.
The line was long, almost to the door, but it was densely air conditioned inside and it cut through the sweaty grit that covered him. He stood as the line slowly progressed forward, the haggard baristas pouring ices and syrups into taxed blenders. He got to the front of the line and ordered his water. The cashier smiled with relief for the brief respite.

Those are beautiful flowers, who’s the lucky g—person? she asked, but he was already moving to the pickup table and her question was ground out in the sound of masticating ice.

He grabbed his water and moved through the crowded café towards the exit. A girl in a short sundress was coming through and he held the door for her with his elbow, hands clutching flowers and water.

Thanks, she said looking up at him, smiling.

You’re welcome, he said, returning her smile.

They paused for a moment, her looking at the flowers in his hand. Her smile dropped and she stepped passed him without another word. The young man exited out of the cool air into the city street.
The sidewalks were filling with nine to fivers finished the grind, inappropriately dressed for the sunny heat. They shoved passed him on both sides headed towards parking lots and bus stops, desperate to get home. He sipped his water and moved slowly upstream against the city.

Despite his best efforts the flowers were getting jostled. A small yellow carnation was crushed down and in, the cellophane folding over it. He stopped at a garbage and discarded his cup and ice, pausing to readjust the crumpled flower, unfolding the plastic from over it.

He crossed the street to cut across the park. Large trees shaded couples sprawled on benches, eating, laughing. He watched as they held hands and touched each other. Teenagers sitting too close, kissing too hard, listening to music too loud. They watched videos on their phones and they sat in each other’s laps. He walked across the grass watching them frankly. No one watched him.

The grass ended and concrete began. His destination was just up the street and he could see the squat grey building sprawled before him. He was a bit later than intended. He wanted another cigarette but didn’t want to smell like smoke.

He got to the parking lot and stopped. Cars were pulling out and he stopped to let them pass. The drivers looked at him. He climbed the steps to the front of the building and stopped. The large doors and a small garbage can with cigarette butts littered around it stood before him. He stood.

Fuck.

He took the decaying bouquet and shoved it into the ashy garbage.

Fuck.

Gripping the door handle he pulled hard and entered the building.

title: Floral Patterns

question: How much did the flowers cost?

answer: The flowers cost ten dollars.

question: Why are people being rude to the narrator?

answer: The people think the narrator is gay.

question: What does the narrator get from Starbucks?

answer: The narrator gets an ice water from Starbucks.

question: What happens to the flowers at the end?

answer: The narrator throws the flowers away.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: The narrator buys flowers and makes his way through the city. On the way people make rude comments and have strange behaviors towards him. By the time he makes it to his destination, the flowers are jostled and decaying, so he throws them away.


text:
Description

Anime adaptation of stories from both the 11-volume Ito Junji Kessaku-shuu series and the _Fragments of Horror_ book.

question: Write a ~0 sentence summary.


text: the ground shook slightly as the beast entered the clearing where she stood.  the creature glared at her menacingly from across the meadow with cold yellow eyes.  she wrinkled her nose and sniffled.  she had woken up stiff and achy that morning.  her sinuses throbbed slightly and her mind drifted for a brief moment to the realization that she was probably catching a cold.  the tremendous smell of the creature brought her back to reality.  she became aware that her heart now beat much faster in her chest.  she felt the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand and sweat bead under the heat of the blistering sun.  her mind raced.  on the surface, however, she appeared calm and steady.  she met the creature's gaze with an unflinching stare, her dark eyes narrowing slightly.  she bit her bottom lip, not because she was nervous, but because the hint of pain helped her mind to focus.  her tan body, glistening under the bright sun, now tensed as her muscles flexed in preparation.  she knew that she would have to move quickly when the creature struck.  she knew that she would likely have very little time to react.  her knees bent slightly and her feet dug in to the soft soil.  it was cool and refreshing beneath her toes.  she could smell the grass and the sweet hint of clover.  she could hear the faint buzz of the bees that had come hunting the flower's nectar, just as this creature had come hunting her.  she saw each blade of grass bend and sway, as if dancing with the warm summer breeze.  she took it all in for a moment and breathed deeply, exhaling slowly.  her focus narrowed, watching the beast intently as it stared her down.  it hissed and showed a mouthful of serrated teeth with a snarl, as if it were smiling at the thought of tearing into her.  she licked her upper lip and winked, her brilliant brown eyes flashing with a hint of anticipation.  a smile darted across her face.  today she would beat Tuesday, she would fight it here and leave it to die

title: Lindi's Stand

question: What did the beast look like?

answer: The beast hissed and had serrated teeth.

question: Why was the beast following the girl?

answer: It may be implied that the creature was looking for food hunted down the girl.

question: Does the beast kill the girl?

answer: No.

question: Was the beast an animal?

answer: It may be implied that the beast was a snake.

question: Write a ~5 sentence summary.

answer:
She stood still as the creature glared at her. The girl had just woken up and could feel the creature's gaze on her. She kept calming in the beginning and then flexed her muscles preparing to move the moment the creature struck.

The beast hissed at her showing its serrated teeth as if it was smiling at her tears. The girl looks right at him and thinks she is going to fight it today and leave it here to die.


text: He opens the door, walking inside, away from the flashing red and yellow neon, the loud noises, the chaos. Inside it is dark, warm and quiet. It is a peaceful dark, fuzzy, like static. He slides his hand down the right side of the wall, feeling for the switch he knows is there. He finds it and switches on the dim, yellow lights, the naked bulbs flickered in the darkness, illuminating the room. A wine red couch. He hates it, it is lumpy, and smells musty. A small kitchen, with one cup, one fork, and one knife, he doesn't need anything else. No decorations, just off-white wall, the ceiling is satined yellow from cigarette smoke. He always smokes. He goes into the kitchen and grabs what’s left in the fridge. A cheap beer, bread, and cream cheese. The beer is warm and the cream cheese is turning green. He steers his knife around the cream cheese and spreads it on the bread. It tastes bad, the stale bread and moldy cream cheese. He realizes with a sudden calm that this is his last meal. Ironic, that his last meal is like his life, doesn't look to good, but you have hope. Then you take a bite and it’s gone. Both the hope and your appetite. He chuckles at his joke. A solitary tear forms in his right eye and slides down his cheek. He doesn't wipe it away. He walks over to his desk, one of the two pieces of furniture in his house, the other is his closet. He opens the desk and pulls out his gun. He bought it yesterday. It glistens in the sulphur yellow light. He takes the single bullet he bought and slips it quietly into the chamber. He cocks it, and puts it in his mouth. He tastes metal, the oil, and his own blood. The metal scrapes against his teeth. He thinks about the mess he is going to make for the person who has to clean it up. Not how pathetic his life is, or how he much he hates himself, or that he has nobody in his life. But he does think that he doesn't have to shock his landlord to walk inside and see him. She is a frail old lady. It would kill him to do that to her. He flicks the safety on, and puts it in his pocket. He walks outside. It’s raining outside, he shivers, but he doesn't need to be warm now. He walks for an hour, until he gets to the bridge. It’s a huge bridge, the water rushes underneath, black as night. No cars drive by, he looks at his watch: 2:56. As he steps onto the ledge, he is happy, whatever happens now, has to be better then this.  He flicks his cigarette away, the glowing orange butt fades as it falls away into the churning water. He leans out across the water, feeling the wind whip around him. He releases from the railing, he thinks, as he is falling towards the water. ‘It’s my birthday.’

title: A wonderful Life

question: What does the narrator eat?

answer: The narrator eats moldy cream cheese and stale bread.

question: What did the narrator buy yesterday?

answer: The narrator bought a gun yesterday.

question: Why doesn't the narrator shoot himself?

answer: The narrator doesn't shoot himself because he doesn't want to leave a mess for the landlady.

question: What day is it?

answer: It is the narrator's birthday.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: The narrator walks inside his house and eats a depressing last meal. He considers shooting himself but decides against it. Instead he walks to a bridge and jumps into the river.


text:
I’ve struggled with being overweight for most of my adolecent life. The demoralization of being [ryans after]fat is a horrible feeling. I still remember how it feels.

Oddly enough, I still feel that way at times.

It’s kind of ridiculous hearing that from a personal trainer who is percevied to be in shape. I am healthy[ryans before picture] and I am in great shape, that doesn’t always mean like I feel like it.

The psychology of weight loss is a passion of mine and I’ve gone through many of the mental struggles of what being fat does. I truly believe if you can’t clean up the negative crap in your head, you will yo-yo diet your entire life.

I want to share what has worked for many of those I’ve coached as well as what has worked for me.

The obstacles of being in shape, losing weight and getting lean are these things we call life: being a parent, working a demanding job, school schedule or managing a business. Nothing is ever always easy.

question: Describe the author of this post.

answer: The author is a personal trainer (possible named Ryan).

question: What are some of the issues the author is struggling with?

answer: The author struggled with being overweight for most of his adolescent life. He is healthy now, but he doesn't always feel like it.

question: What is the motivation behind this post?

answer: For the author to share his approach to weight loss.

question: What are the author's tips for getting in shape?

answer: That information is not provided (text seems to be incomplete).

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: A personal trainer (possibly named Ryan) shares that he used to struggle with being overweight in adolescence and sometimes still feels fat. He believes that addressing the mental struggles of being fat is key to weight loss and wishes to share his approach, which has worked both for him and for many of his clients.


text:
Introduction

Before we begin, please allow me to introduce myself. My name is not important, but who I am is. I am the last and only remaining observer of the apocalypse. The story you are about to read is about you and everyone you love.

Part 1 – Heat

“I can’t wait for the winter.” Zach says to himself, staring out his bedroom window at an empty park across the street. Zach is a 20 year old human, a college drop out. He was a political science major before the announcement. He didn’t see any reason to have any ambitions given the situation.

He sits on the edge of his bed and turns on the television in his room. He grew up in this house, and he knows it intimately. The volume on the television is too low to hear, Zach still looks outside of the window. “It will be better in the winter” he sighs.

The local 6 o’clock news plays silently. The closed captioning on the news reads “farmers are leaving their crops at a quickening pace, food prices are skyrocketing”.

Zach is still day dreaming about the cold when he is startled by a knock at the door.

“Dinner is ready!”

It was obvious to Zach’s mother that she had startled him. She already knew what was on his mind.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. We’re all a bit jumpy this time of year.”

Zach’s family didn’t have to worry about food prices. Zach’s parents were both involved in lucrative careers, and he has always enjoyed most everything he has ever wanted. Today all he wanted was to go outside and run for miles. If he ever got the chance, he decided he wouldn’t plan on stopping, and that he would run until he couldn’t run anymore.  Running outside is against the law now, and has been since the announcement. Only the police are allowed to run outside, and even then only under special circumstances. A boy who lived down the street ignored these rules a couple weeks ago and there has been no word of what happened to him since. Zach envied him, and hated himself for being too scared to follow his lead.

At the dinner table the discussion was brief and short as usual. Humans don’t talk as much as they used to. Humans are funny; they will do anything to keep living. Actually almost everything has changed since the U.N. made the announcement last April. The humans have migrated to rural areas at a staggering rate, and businesses have their employees work from home whenever possible.  Air conditioning is mandated for every property. The more comfortable people are, the lower their heart rate is. This keeps them alive longer. This helps them survive.

Zach finished his food and went back to his room. He spends most of his time there, watching television and drawing. He finds peace in solitude. As an optimist he tries to keep his brain on the move, just in case there is a solution. Apathy is his death and he knows it.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, chasing sleep. He dreams about Christmas as a child, the presents, family gatherings, and snowball fights.

title: O - Part 1

question: Who is the narrator?

answer: The last and only remaining observer of the apocalypse

question: What caused the apocalypse?

answer: It is unclear what caused the apocalypse.

question: What do Zach's parents do for work?

answer: It is unclear, though it is mentioned that they have lucrative careers.

question: Why can't Zach go for a run?

answer: There is some kind of danger, though it is unclear what the danger is exactly.

question: Write a ~5 sentence summary.

answer: Zach is a 20 year-old living in an apocalyptic world. He wants to go for a run, but it has been deemed unsafe to run. Everyone stays inside and tries to survive. He eats dinner with his family, who doesn't have to worry about food prices. He goes back to his room and tries to remain optimistic.


text:
I sat alone on Loser's Day, a Thursday; Doug was out of commission.  The surly sun sat sheltered behind the woods, and threw my window only a few gobs of light at the hour.  A fuzzy TV droned and captured my tired, besotted eyes, there, in the cervix of teenage overstimulation.  Behind me, an empty bottle sat half-covered by the bedskirt, paying homage to a dead friend.

The math book was insistent in its intrusion, perched upon my dresser.  I loved it so, and yet, now monetized, now someone else's, I couldn't quite look at it squarely.  No one fell behind at Swindell, and I had to keep working, pounding all the knowledge in, for the next fellow was working harder-

A quiet ringtone.  I cringed.  Fuck.  The math book had betrayed me; no eyes, please.  I rolled back to the nightstand and took the call.

“Hey, what are you up to, love?”

I bit my lip.  Caitlyn?  No, no, no, some asshole...

“Who is this?”

“Your worst nightmare.”

“Ohhh...”

“No, no, listen, you piece of shit.  I've got two girls in the car.  Be ready in five minutes.  Wear something cute.”

I hung up.  The Duke, Cassius.  The very King himself was inviting me; I needed to cash in on the rare opportunity.  A white T-shirt, the Bluetones, and some other clothes- my belt- my phone- and uh...what else?  I whirled around, the hum of the ceiling fan grinding my bowels into something not fit for His Holiness.

Two girls in the car...too nice...the condoms!  That was it!  I dug around and pulled out the crumpled purple box, grabbed four or five and stuffed them into my pockets.  Then I hustled downstairs and waited for the unexpected arrival.

The sun came higher, the air heating up in anticipation of this high school hero they called the King.  I waited uncomfortably, prepared for his usual lateness.  The car flashed.

He rolled down the window.

“Elliott?  Elliott, fuck...”  He laughed.  “Get the fuck in.”

I obliged.  The girls were nowhere to be seen.

“Uh, Duke...you said-”

He howled with delight.  “Dropped off Mary Anne, you know how it is, I got down and dirty.   But then she started bitching, had to be home and Charisse went with her.  Jesus fucking Christ, Elliott, you don't know, I tried so hard to keep one of 'em here for you...”

We tore off.  He burped loudly, and asked me to put some music on.  I fumbled with the docking station, but found some rap I thought he'd like.  A smile crept across the King's face.  He was Duke to his face, Cassius Steeple, but others styled him the King to his great satisfaction.  Or when he wasn't within earshot, His Holiness, the one you don't turn down.  He was unrelenting in his coolness, an unexaggeratedly religious figure to the high school popular crowd, but still neurotic and compulsive enough to fit in with the downtrodden, to make love to the crooked-faced chemistry student and burn the leaf in a dank apartment, deep in the heart of Southbridge.

I relaxed around the King, a character always fearless and never to be feared.  He sped dangerously down a wealthy road, unquestionably bound for the built-up urban complexes miles away from where I lived.  The King had a special fondness for every girl this side of the water tower, but on weekends, he was a free jack, free to screw the shop attendant and her visiting niece from the city.  I shivered with the excitement that I, too, might ride the King's wave of sexual excitation, that I might pick up whatever dregs he left me in his endless hedonistic quest.

“The thing is, we've got to get you ready, Elliott.  We've got to get you ready for those Swindell chicks.  I hear they'll do anything.  You going to be the rooster?”

I grinned and nodded.

“I'm glad, Elliott.  The most important thing is-” he coughed- “the most important thing is that you're ready for college chicks.  You need to take the opportunity to find out what the inside of a vagina looks like before the end of this summer.”

He screeched into a parking lot.  The creamery was open, but was I in the mood?  It didn't matter- Cassius dictated everything here.  The passenger door flung open and I gasped for air in the sudden heat, the earth spinning beneath me in the wake of His Holiness's roadway impropriety.  We walked in like best friends.

Rita Kunz presided over the counter.  When she caught sight of the King, the change in her was immediate.  Her face flushed as she narrowed her eyes and bit her lip.  She swayed slightly and crossed her legs, bending slightly further towards us.

“We can't serve you,” she smiled, looking through me at her dream object.  Her eyelids fluttered, and she gave her thin brown hair a quick twirl.

“That's great- I wasn't expecting you here, either,” he said dismissively.  Rita covered her embarrassment with a deeper smile.

She fondled her apron and leaned back from the counter.  “I'm going on break.  You can deal with someone else.”  After she turned, Cassius shot me a grin.

Rita disappeared behind a door, and her assistant came to fill our orders.  Cassius chuckled quietly to himself, and furrowed his brow.  Something devilish came into his eyes as he turned; I was caught in his line of sight.  “Do you have money?” Cassius inquired.  A wave of some dispirited feeling washed over me.

Blondie Memaine scooped the ice cream this time, the pecans and vanilla beans sliding gracefully into her spoon as she prepared the King's dessert.  To me, she'd been the epitome of grace in high school: a slender and elegant diver, capturing the school record for whatever the hell with the butterfly.  Blondie was off to college, back again this semester, actually: all accounts indicated that she had enjoyed her first year immensely.  But to the King, it wasn't the grace, rather the result that counted.  The dessert in this case.  She'd been a fine one, His Holiness insisted, on multiple occasions.

We ate, and he jetted off to some sacred locale.  I wasn't invited.  I waited on the curb with my thumb up, and wondered if the problem was my own.

title: The Strawberry Blonde

question: What grade are the narrator and "the king" in?

answer: Doesn't say, but implies Seniors, one year before college.

question: Did the king have a plan for their outing?

answer: Sounds like they just went to visit an old fling at her job and eat ice cream.

question: Did the king intend to introduce the narrator to some girls?

answer: The king dropped off the girls before picking up the narrator, and seemingly used him to by him some ice cream before dumping him again.

question: What time period did this take place in?

answer: Seemingly contemporary setting.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: The narrator acquiesces to every whim of a popular kid from school that everyone calls "the king." He's coaxed out to hang with him with promises of being introduced to some girls, but they just end up going to an ice cream parlor where the narrator pays. He gets dumped immediately after.


text:
[]

In the wake of the violent protests at the Gaza border fence in Israel, a group of prominent Muslims in Britain have purchased full-page ads in several UK papers to condemn anti-Semitism and to urge their fellow Muslims to “speak out” whenever they see signs of “one of history’s oldest and most virulent hatreds.”

The ads were sponsored by a nonprofit organization called Muslims Against Anti-Semitism (MAAS) and feature an open letter with over a dozen signatories, including journalists, former members of parliament, community activists, and religious leaders. So far, the ads have run in the Times, the Telegraph, and the Metro.

  And here we stand in the @MetroUK. We have made our stands in the Telegraph, the Times and the Metro.

  We call on our Muslim brothers & sisters to stand against anti-Semitism with the same vigour they challenge anti-Muslim hate.

  All three papers below #antisemitism pic.twitter.com/wH1cCSJWsQ

  — MAAS (@MAAS_UK) May 18, 2018

The ads show a bold headline: “We Muslims have one word for Jews. Shalom.” — the Hebrew word for peace.

“As British Muslims, we believe the time has come to speak out,” begins the letter, which seeks to engage Muslims in the fight against anti-Semitism, and specifically references the Israeli-Palestinian conflict:

  For far too long, anti-Semitism has gone unchecked. Sadly, it has become entrenched across society. Its poison can be found in all political parties and among followers of all faiths, including Islam.

  Eradicating it is a challenge faced by all of us.

  We understand that many in our country empathise with the Palestinians and their right to a sovereign state. We welcome the defence of the rights of all people.

  However, we must be ever vigilant against those who cynically use international issues to vilify Jews or promote anti-Semitic tropes. There is no cause that can justify the promotion of hate.

  Just as we challenge those who recycle anti-Muslim tropes, we stand firmly against racism directed at our Jewish sisters and brothers.

  As Muslims, we believe that our future peace, security and prosperity in this great country cannot be ensured while Jewish communities feel under threat. It is our duty to speak out against all forms of hatred and bigotry — against anti-Semitism no less than anti-Muslim hatred.

  To our Jewish sisters and brothers, we say the struggle against one of history oldest and most virulent hatreds is not your fight along but ours collectively.

  In peace, we say these words:

  Hiney ma tov u’ma-nayim, Shevet ach-im gam ya-chad.

  Our full page advert makes clear that for some of us, as British Muslims, anti-Semitism is a scourge that needs to be tackled with vigour, energy and commitment. This means tackling it beyond and within communities.#Antisemitism #Muslims #interfaith pic.twitter.com/siGQWbdqvN

  — MAAS (@MAAS_UK) May 17, 2018

The last line of the ad comes from a Hebrew hymn and translates to “How good it is, for brothers and sisters to sit together.”

The ad has received many positive responses, including from the Board of Deputies of British Jews, who thanked MAAS for their “incredible solidarity.”

  Incredible solidarity – a full page ad by Muslim sisters & brothers in today's @Telegraph. Thank you. Together we will defeat the twin evils of antisemitism & anti-Muslim hate. @FaithMattersUK @TellMamaUK @ayeshahazarika @paulsarmstrong @MakChishtyQPM @hennaraiB @Voice_of_Salam pic.twitter.com/W5PJLtHngK

  — Board of Deputies of British Jews (@BoardofDeputies) May 17, 2018

_Follow Sarah Rumpf on Twitter: @rumpfshaker. _

question: Summarize the message of the advertisement.

answer: The advertisement was put out by MAAS with the intent to condemn anti-Semitism and urge their fellow Muslims to speak out against signs of this prejudice. They note that anti-Semitism needs to be challenged by their Muslim brothers and sisters with the same amount of vigor as anti-Muslim hate. They discuss anti-Semitism's societal reach, and how as Muslim's they cannot feel safe in their country when Jewish people are under attack. The advertisement was written in light of violent protests at the Gaza border fence in Israel, and how people may be using these international issues to perpetuate anti-Semitic tropes.

question: Summarize the responses to the advertisement.

answer: Overall the advertisement received positive responses. The Board of Deputies of British Jews thanked Muslims Against Anti-Semitism for their "incredible solidarity". They also said that together they will defeat the twin evils of antisemitism and anti-Muslim hate.

question: Summarize everything related to prejudice.

answer: This article focuses on a group of prominent British Muslims pledging to fight against one of the oldest and virulent prejudices, anti-Semitism, with the same vigor in which they challenge anti-Muslim hate. This comes in wake of violent protests at the Gaza border fence in Israel. In the pledge, prejudice in the form of anti-Semitism is said to have gone unchecked, and its poison has been entrenched across society. They claim people are using international issues to vilify and be prejudiced towards Jews. The Board of Deputies of British Jews says that together with their Muslim sisters and brothers they will defeat anti-Semitism and Muslim hate.

question: What does the text say about Palestine's response to anti-Semitism?


text:
The moon was still out in the blue-black sky when I woke up. A kerosene stove hissed gently nearby. Drops of last night’s rain had frozen on my sleeping bag and cracked softly as I withdrew.  My fingers thawed on a bowl of half-blackened soup that tasted like coal and burnt plastic. Then we left, and my headlamp blew out mercury bubbles of light against the ash and cobalt sky.

I was already scraping my feet against rock and climbing up towards the tree line by the time the orange ribbons cut the sky. I watched the day rise slowly up from behind the white-tipped mountains. It was giving me something I could look back on and say I had lived. The morning, with dawn and its sharp spikes of numbing cool, and my eyes, and the whole wide world: they were all so strong just then. The cold made me burn hotter and faster and better and it made my breath curl into  vanishing clouds. My feet were ready to etch the memory of me onto this mountain.

The last green thing was a calm lake at the foot of a white and rocky mountain. It was the last innocent thing before the peak. We left a few things and then continued on. The trail we had followed disappeared into scree and so we followed the stream up. We stopped where the incline leveled out into a rocky bowl and filled a bottle with cold stream water. We treated it with a few drops of yellow, finger-staining iodine. I saw the small and brave flowers, yellow and pink, that sprouted timidly on the rocky ground around the river.

We hiked up through snow to the sharp ridge of the bowl. All around was an algae that turned the snow crimson when stepped on. I looked back on my footprints and saw they were scarlet. I felt as if I were walking on a thin film that had been cast to disguise a sea of blood. The soles of my shoes soon became blood red and so did my pants. We all looked like murderers.

 The next thing that lay between the peak and us was a narrow strip of snow that marked the end of the bowl and the beginning of the peak. On one side the snow sloped sharply down into the bowl. On the other was nothing except air and then distant trees and rock and ice-blue lakes far below. We stayed towards the bowl side because the side of the ridge facing the drop was likely hollowed out by the wind and melting snow. Even then, I felt as though the snow beneath me would collapse and I would be swept out into the air.

The peak was somewhere up a tower of jumbled-up rock. There was a path that led up and we followed it. The jumble narrowed in one spot and the path led to a ledge at the very edge of the rock jumble and there was a drop that would kill me if I fell. I had to cling to the rock with my feet in a six-inch-wide shelf and shuffle carefully along. I looked up as I was nearly to the end and there was a spider an inch from my hand. I do not know if it was deadly. It might have been. If I had been afraid of spiders, I would have let go in fright. The jagged rocks below me would have broken me apart.

The peak came quickly after that. There was not much room, but I could sit on a rock and open the metal ammunition canister with the register in it, and sign my name and the date, and write some bad poetry next to it. But I did write something true there. I wrote I am above, on a line by itself, and that rang true. I was strung up so that all the craftwork of the earth could be seen. Cold wind blew around me and I had left my warm clothes at the lake below, but it meant nothing more to me than any of the cold winds I remembered. It was as though I had already lived through it a long time ago.

The view had the clarity that comes after a rain, with the whites and greens and cold greys of the country before me both softened and sharpened at once, and the mountains and valleys fading to pale blue as they approached the pastel clouds over the horizon. I was sitting on the jagged throne of the universe, and all that was before me was mine now, mine and no one else's, because I was the only person alive, had only ever been the only person alive, and that feeling did not make me feel lonely or frightened, but instead young and filled with life that would never fade or dissipate but stay collected until the electric reservoir in my veins finally ran dry. But that day would be a long time coming.

title: "The mountain after the rain"

question: Is the narrator a human or a robot?

answer: The final line in the story provides a twist -that the narrator will probably live for a countless period of time. While this implies that the narrator is inorganic, it does not mean they are a robot. There are plenty of parts in the narrative that alludes to human functionality -the thawing of fingers, the possibility of being afraid of spiders,


text:
[]
Image: WireImage/getty images

Kanye West just made everyone mad again, but this time it had nothing to do with "dragon energy" or politics. It's because he paid $85,000 for a photo of Whitney Houston's bathroom.

This week, rapper Pusha-T — who is signed to West's label GOOD Music — revealed that the artwork for his album _DAYTONA_ was changed at the last minute because of the producer of the project, Mr. West himself.

Though it wasn't revealed until Thursday evening, the change came on Wednesday in the early hours of the morning, just a few days before the album was scheduled to drop.

"[West] changed my artwork last night at 1:00 a.m. because he wasn't feelin' it," Pusha told Angie Martinez in an interview on Wednesday.

He revealed that initial photographs had been picked out and approved, until he got a call from a no caller ID number that happened to be West. According to Pusha, West told him over the phone that "this is what people need to see to go along with this music."

The photograph that West was so insistent on?

A 2006 snapshot of Whitney Houston's bathroom, which Kanye himself paid $85,000 to license.

"I feel like the cover represents an organized chaos," Pusha told Entertainment Weekly. "The energy of the album is a bit chaotic, but it’s all in place. Looks at that cover, I’m sure whoever frequents that bathroom or area knew whatever they wanted to find and knew where it was."

Houston battled drug addiction and died in 2012 from drowning (with drugs in her system), so when West posted the image on Thursday evening, the backlash began immediately after people realized that the image was of her bathroom shot for tabloids. Many called out West for his exploitation of Houston's private struggles.

  Kanye West is a tone deaf, exploitative cliche, hiding under the guise of creative freedom. What’s so funny about how cliche he is, is how so “effortfully” contrarian he is. The Whitney’s bathroom album art is a trash thing to do. She died from this thing for Gods sake!

  — Damilola Marcus (@OmogeDami) May 25, 2018

  Since Kanye Got Whitney Houston’s Bathroom As Pusha T Cover, Somebody Use The Bathroom Kim Kardashian Got Robbed In As An Album Cover

  — Jean (@xankadaver) May 24, 2018

  Kanye West claims 2 have been suffering from opiate addiction himself. Instead of exploiting Whitney Houston’s struggles 4 his own personal gain, why doesn’t he post a picture of his own drug stash? What he’s doing isn’t “edgy” or “artsy”; it’s exploitative, wrong & disrespectful

  — Jackie Talks Nerdy ☔ (@JackieTalkNerdy) May 24, 2018

  To disrespect a titan like Whitney Houston, to reduce her legacy to a single image of a place and time in her life, is EXACTLY what Kanye seems to complain that the media does to him all the time. Indeed, the irony.

  — Toyin Ojih Odutola (@obia_thethird) May 24, 2018

Pusha-T and West have yet to respond to the controversy that has bubbled because of the album art. 'Ye has instead chosen to tweet about the "overwhelming positive responses" to the music, which is now available on all streaming platforms.

question: Summarize the tension in this article.

answer: People are expressing their distaste for rapper Kanye West because he paid for a photo of famed singer Whitney Houston's bathroom- where the late icon passed away due to drug overdose. West paid 85k for the 2006 image, which he is intending to use for his new album cover, according to fellow rapper Pusha-T who is signed to Kanye's label, and whose album was pushed back due to this purchase. Houston died in 2012, allegedly in the bathroom depicted in this image.

question: Summarize the author's perspective on the purchase.

answer: The author seems to think that at best, this move was callous and uncalled-for. The fact that Whitney Houston would go on to die in that bathroom where it has been rumored she and her former partner did many drugs makes licensing the photo crude. It is a fame grab and a call to attention for private, selfish reasons that taints Houston's legacy by drawing focus on her sad demise.

question: Summarize what West says are his personal motivations for licensing the image.


text:
News

Gun was inside suspect's SUV in designated school parking lot, deputies say

DANIA BEACH, FLA. – A middle school employee in Dania Beach was arrested on the first day of school Wednesday for bringing a gun onto school property, authorities said.

According to an arrest report, an anonymous caller told the Broward Sheriff's Office that Nathaniel Strowbridge, 57, who is a security guard at Olsen Middle School, carries a gun on campus and said they believed Strowbridge wasn't stable.

BSO officials notified the school resource deputy, who confronted Strowbridge about the accusation.

Deputies said Strowbridge first denied having a gun on campus and later admitted that he had a gun in his SUV, which was parked in the designated school parking lot.

Authorities said Florida law specifically states that an "individual may not have a weapon in their personal car on school property if the local school board waives the exception."

Deputies said the Broward County Public School Board waived the exception in March 2001, which therefore prohibits the possession of firearms in vehicles that are parked on campus.

According to the arrest report, Strowbridge refused to give a statement to a detective after he was read his Miranda warning.

Authorities later obtained a search warrant for Strowbridge's Nissan Rogue and found the gun on the front passenger-side floorboard, the report stated.

Strowbridge was arrested on a charge of bringing a firearm on school property.

Parents who spoke with Local 10 News reporter Terrell Forney Thursday said they hadn't been notified by the school about the arrest.

"I'm kind of worried because I just found out what's going on. I didn't know anything," Ingrid Ramic said.

Strowbridge appeared in bond court Thursday, where his attorney told the judge that the security guard has worked at the school for more than 20 years and is the legal guardian of three of his grandchildren.

Strowbridge is being held in lieu of a $10,000 bond. He will be fitted with a GPS ankle monitor if he posts bail.

A Broward County Public Schools spokeswoman said Strowbridge has been "reassigned to home, pending (the) termination process."

The spokeswoman confirmed that Strowbridge has worked at Olsen Middle School since August 1997. He previously worked as a security specialist at Coconut Creek High School from 1994-1997.

Copyright 2018 by WPLG Local10.com - All rights reserved.

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

About the Authors:

[Author Photo]

[Author Photo]

Terrell Forney

Terrell Forney joined Local 10 News in October 2005 as a general assignment reporter. He was born and raised in Cleveland, Ohio, but a desire to escape the harsh winters of the north brought him to South Florida.

question: Why can't security guard employees bring guns to their places of work in the US?

answer: They actually are allowed to have them in his line of work but this was waived by the particular district.

question: What will happen to Stowbridge?

answer: He will likely lose his job.

question: What is the purpose of the ankle monitor?

answer: It will alert authorities if he leaves his place of residence and track his movements.

question: How many years has he been working at schools as of the time of this article?

answer: 24 years.


text:
JOHN IRVIN CURTIN (June 17, 1837 – January 1, 1911) was a cousin of Pennsylvania governor Andrew Gregg Curtin. He led a regiment and then a brigade in the American Civil War.

Early life

Curtin was born at Eagle Forge, Pennsylvania. He was educated at Dickinson Seminary, later Lycoming College and became a civil engineer.

Civil War service

In 1861, Curtin served as a private in the 2nd Pennsylvania Infantry Regiment. On September 9, 1861, he was commissioned a captain in the 45th Pennsylvania Infantry. Curtin was promoted to major on July 30, 1862, and lieutenant colonel on September 4 of the same year. He became the regiment's colonel on April 13, 1863.[1]

In the Army of the Potomac, Curtin served in IX Corps. He led the regiment at the Battle of South Mountain and the Battle of Antietam in the place of Col. Thomas Welsh, who was holding brigade command.[2] Welsh return to command of the regiment for the Battle of Fredericksburg. When Welsh was promoted to the rank of brigadier general, Curtin became the regiment's commander. After IX Corps was transferred west, Curtin led the 45th Pennsylvania in the Siege of Vicksburg. He was absent, however, from the Knoxville Campaign.

When IX Corps returned to the Army of the Potomac in 1864, Curtin led his regiment at the Battle of the Wilderness in the 2nd Division of Brig. Gen. Robert B. Potter. Curtin took command of 1st Brigade, 2nd Division, on May 11, 1864, after Col. Zenas Bliss was injured at the Battle of Spotsylvania Court House. He led the brigade at the Battle of Cold Harbor and continued in command until June 18, when he was wounded in the Second Battle of Petersburg.

Curtin led his brigade again in the Siege of Petersburg from August 21 to January 13, 1865, before going on leave. (Col. Sumner Carruth led the brigade during Curtin's absence.) After this absence, Curtin resumed brigade command on February 11, serving until April 24. After the Confederate surrender, in the Department of Washington, Curtin led the 3rd Division, IX Corps, in place of Brig. Gen. John Hartranft from May 4 to July 8 and then his old brigade from July 8 to July 17, 1865.

On December 20, 1864, President Abraham Lincoln nominated Curtin for appointment to the grade of brevet brigadier general of volunteers, to rank from October 12, 1864, and the United States Senate confirmed the appointment on February 14, 1865.[3] He was mustered out of the volunteer service on July 17, 1865.[4]

Post war

Curtin died in Bellefonte, Pennsylvania on January 1, 1911.[5] He was buried at the Union Cemetery in Bellefonte.[6]

[1] Eicher, John H., and Eicher, David J., _Civil War High Commands_, Stanford University Press, 2001, . p. 194.

[2] Col. Thomas Welsh's Official Reports

[3] Eicher, 2001, p. 743.

[4]

[5]

[6]

title: John I. Curtin

question: When was John I. Curtin bown?

answer: June 17 1837.

question: Who was John I. Curtin's cousin?

answer: Pennsylvania governor Andrew Gregg Curtain.

question: Where was John I. Curtin born?

answer: Eagle Forge, Pennsylvania.

question: To what appointment did Abraham Lincoln nominate John I. Curtin on December 20th 1864?

answer: Brevet brigadier general of volunteers.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: This article is about John I. Curtin, leader of a regiment and a brigade during the American civil war.


text:
The 2000 MEN'S WORLD OUTDOOR BOWLS CHAMPIONSHIP - MEN'S PAIRS was held at Marks Park Bowling Club, in Johannesburg, South Africa, from 1–15 April 2000.[1][2][3][4][5][6]

Alex Marshall & George Sneddon of Scotland won the gold medal.[7]

Qualifying Round

Section A

  Pos   Player                             P    W   D   L   Pts   Shots |-align=center style=“background: #ADFFD6;”   1   Russell Meyer & Paul Girdler   10   8   0   2   18   +33 |-align=center style=“background: #ADFFD6;”   2   Brett Duprez & Mark Jacobsen   10   7   1   2   17
  ----- ---------------------------------- ---- --- --- --- ----- --------------------------------------------------- --- ------------------------------ ---- --- --- --- ---- ------------------------------------------------- --- ------------------------------ ---- --- --- --- ---- --
  3     Anthony Carstairs & Noel Kennedy   10   7   0   3   16    +66
  4     Malaysia                           10   6   0   4   14
  5     Jeremy Henry & Neil Booth          10   5   1   4   13    +32
  6     Allan Quemard & Thomas Greechan    10   5   1   4   13    +10
  7     Caucau Turagabeci & Shorab Khan    10   5   0   5   12    +12
  8     Eddie Nkole & Stan Maynard         10   4   1   5   11
  9     Gary Pitschou & Paul Ingrouille    10   3   2   5   10
  10    Argentina                          10   1   0   9   4
  11    Botswana                           10   1   0   9   4

Section B

  Pos   Player                                      P    W   D   L   Pts   Shots |-align=center style=“background: #ADFFD6;”   1   Alex Marshall & George Sneddon   11            22   |-align=center style=“background: #ADFFD6;”   2   Shaun Addinall & Gerry Baker   11            14   +76
  ----- ------------------------------------------- ---- --- --- --- ----- --------------------------------------------------- --- -------------------------------- ---- -- -- -- ---- --------------------------------------------- --- ------------------------------ ---- -- -- -- ---- -----
  3     John Price & Robert Weale                   11               14    +56
  4     Ian Ho, Barry Pickup & David Kempthorne +   11               14    +26
  5     Zimbabwe                                    11               13
  6     Dave Anderson & Mark Sandford               11               12    +42
  7     John Ottaway & Andy Thomson                 11               12    +27 |-align=center
  9     Swaziland                                   11
  10    Namibia                                     11
  11    Norfolk Island                              11
  12    Singapore                                   11

+ Replacement

Finals

Results

  Men's Pairs Section A
  ----------------------- -- -------
  ROUND 1 - APR 1
  ROUND 2 - APR 1
  ROUND 3 - APR 2
  ROUND 4 - APR 3
  ROUND 5 - APR 3
  ROUND 6 - APR 4
  ROUND 7 - APR 4
  ROUND 8 - APR 5
  ROUND 9 - APR 6
  ROUND 10 - APR 6
  ROUND 11 - APR 7

  Men's Pairs Section B
  ----------------------- -- -------
  ROUND 1 - APR 1
  ROUND 2 - APR 1
  ROUND 3 - APR 2
  ROUND 4 - APR 3
  ROUND 5 - APR 4
  ROUND 6 - APR 4
  ROUND 7 - APR 4
  ROUND 8 - APR 5
  ROUND 9 - APR 5
  ROUND 10 - APR 6
  ROUND 11 - APR 7

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

title: 2000 World Outdoor Bowls Championship – Men's Pairs

question: For how many weeks did the Championship last?

answer: 2 Weeks

question: Who won the bronze and silver medals?

answer: There is not sufficient information to answer the question.

question: On what continent was the Championship held?

answer: Africa

question: What sport was being played?

answer: Bowls

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: This article summarizes the results of the 2000 World Outdoor Bowls Championship. It was hosted in Johannesburg, South Africa. The scores and ranking of several players are listed.


text:
The Painter.

A few hours before sunset on the longest day of the year. An artist sat on the peek of a hill, and took a deep breath as he looked at the landscape which was sitting in front of him. He breathed in his surroundings and began to paint.

The people in the city below, distant, were making their way from point A to point B like mice in a maze designed by man, which they were never to escape from. They knew nothing of the humble painter. Although they were unknowingly sharing a profound moment with him.

He saw the world in poetry, art and music. His reality was his only reality, he saw through the many curtains of our little world and he knew who he was.

The artist saw not cars and materials but only vibrant colour, each representing forgotten ideologies in there own right. And he heard only notes of music in the horns and sirens which symbolised so little to so many.

As the sun began to set it, shone a powerful melancholic light across the city, which was toe be subject to immortalising before the moon had risen.

The sun had shone many days before, and would shine many days following, but it would never shine like this again. It was a long moment so perfectly captured, one not observed by any one other than the artist.

As the day began to slide away, the strokes began to get shorter and shorter as the night drew closer, and when the light of the sun had faded to black and darkness engulfed the skyline, he had performed the final stroke.

His final stroke, so profound, releasing his last colourful gift to the world. With it he painted not canvas but the landscape itself. A dark rogue, his final piece, beautiful immortality.

Many would look with unpoetical eyes and sigh, although others would see profound dedication. A dedication and a message to humanity. His last vision perfectly captured, in the landscape on the eisle which stood before him. Finally man could see as he saw. And his body may have been cold and lifeless by midnight, but his last painting contained the best of his years, his warmth, to be found in that captured moment until the end of time.

title: I'm a young writer, I rarely share what I write so no one has ever given me feedback to help me grow. Heres a short story that I wrote tonight called "The Painter." I would appreciate feedback greatly.

question: What happened to the painter after he performed his final stroke?

answer: The painter died on the spot, reasons unknown.

question: What made the artist special and different from everyone else?

answer: The artist saw the world through the lens of poetry, art, and music.