input:  Now, answer this question: When asked to define ourselves we often use broad brushstrokes. Without thinking we consult our internal list of “things that make me, ME” and find ourselves recalling words like “creative, outgoing, photography, guitar” before we’ve even had a chance to fully process the question. But how much does this internal list define us? I believed that my internal list was the best representation of myself until I read a quote by Annie Dillard that states: “How we spend our days, is of course, how we spend our lives”. This quote hit me like a punch in the gut, it’s blatant truth so indisputable; how I spent my days, regardless of what I told myself about myself, was ultimately who I was. Or at the very least would be how I had spent my life. This is why, when completing my self portrait, I decided to focus on the everyday. Within my self portrait I wanted to present the viewer with a familiar yet abstract sense of reality through which we get to see amalgamated glimpses of the everyday acts that define me, rather than a linear narrative or a simple re-telling of ‘a day in the life’. Thus combining to create a picture of: my daily life, through an abstracted version of ‘the everyday’. To create a sense of ‘the day’ or linear progression of time I segmented my video with four still images of the sky in various stages of daylight (morning, midday, afternoon, evening) that match the lighting seen in each concurrent video segment. The everyday acts that define me were presented in a series of short video segments that include scenes of me catching the tram, recording music and riding my bike. To disrupt the sense of linear narrative the visual segments are bluntly edited together, with nothing linking the sequential shots and a quite abrupt ending. I also attempted to create an overall sense of confounded time and space by overlaying audio from certain video segments onto others. Long, singular focus, handheld shots were also used to enhance the sense of voyeuristic glimpses. Question: Who stated that how we spend our days is how we spend our lives? === The answer to the above question is
A:
output: Anne Dillard

input:  Now, answer this question: How long ago was it…? It was a long time is all I know. For my birthday, my parents took me and my brother out of school on the day before my birthday and we took a train. (Funny interjection, my mom was caught on the wrong side of the station so she ran across the rails and was pulled up by my dad a couple minutes before the train came.) It was a night train, so we had our own room where my brother and I claimed the top as our territory. (Look at my younger self’s squinty eyes… They are staring into your soul) Anyways, it was morning by the time we arrived at where I would spend my birthday. Vienna, Austria. I quickly got off the train in excitement taking in the view of the station like it was first time I had seen anything. We exited the station and took the trolley to get to our hotel. For breakfast, we had delicious, regional delicacies (among other things). They looked similar to crepes, but all I know is that it had a German name that I can’t remember. After we got situated in our hotel, we immediately headed off for the Mozart Plaza/Park. My family and I also visited other monuments that day: By the end of the day, our legs were worn out. We had rode so many trolleys and walked so much that I’m pretty sure that any longer and we would’ve collapsed on the spot. The bed never felt so good. The following days we went to Austrian Castle, Ice Cave, and more buildings and such. The trip overall made this birthday the most memorable and the best thus far. Bonus: We missed our night train back because of daylight saving hours. The trip back was definitely hectic, but adventurous. Question: Someone was nearly hit by a train. Who nearly was hit by a train? === The answer to the above question is
A:
output: The writer's mom.

input:  Now, answer this question: Diane's heart felt leaden as she prepared to leave. Each face she looked at, she knew she was seeing for the last time. As if she were dying and they all were going to live on. Oh, why must I leave? Now, when all of you are about to put on the martyr's crown, how can you cast me out? I want to die with you. I do not want to go on, stumbling through this world alone. For years these people had been her only family. When she was a child, her faith was preached and practiced openly all over the south of France. The crusade was already twenty years old then, but the perfecti still taught crowds of people in the streets of great cities like Toulouse and Beziers, still won converts away from the Church of Rome. From the lords and ladies in their castles to the peasants on the mountainsides, over half the people were Cathars. Now this year, one thousand two hundred forty-four, might come to be remembered as the year Catharism in France disappeared. From now on there would be nothing but a remnant in hiding, having to sneak about. No, she didn't want to live that way. She longed to throw herself down and beg Bishop Bertran once again to let her stay. But duty pressed down upon her like a mail shirt. It was burdensome, but it protected her from error. She quietly made ready. Before long, Diane and Roland were standing on the northeast wall amid a group of perfecti. From a family that had taken refuge on Mont Segur had come a red and green costume for Diane, the tunic and hose of a well-to-do boy, an equerry. They had cut her hair short and tucked it under a cap topped with a long partridge feather. They had sewn the red cross back on Roland's black surcoat, and had made one for Diane's tunic from a gentlewoman's crimson scarf. A rope to form a sling was tied around her waist and another around her knees. Roland was similarly tied. Question: Who Diane begged to let her stay? === The answer to the above question is
A:
output:
Bishop Bertran