Problem: 
Q: I’m here in Dubrovnik, Croatia for a team meetup. Sadly, the weather has been pretty gray and rainy so far – in fact the forecast has it cloudy and rainy every day until after we leave. So I was pleasantly surprised to be awakened by the sun peeking around the edges of the curtain in my room, especially after the weather yesterday in which the wind gusted 35-40 mph – hard enough to blow the patio furniture around on my balcony (and at one point, catching a chair and flipping it against the rail so hard that if the rail had been just a bit shorter, it might have gone over). Our group all agreed that we should take advantage of the nice weather and head to the old city walls and St. Lawrence Fort (Lovrijenac). We spent several hours walking the walls and climbing up and down stairs. The sun sparkled off the Adriatic Sea and cast a warm glow on the orange and red tiled roofs in old city. It was such a change from the gray and foggy gloom of the last couple of days and it created a completely different mood, at least for me. From foreboding and dark to welcoming and bright. The clouds eventually rolled back in again, but the sunshine was nice while it lasted. We walked over to the fort and I took these shots of the city wall and from across the small cove between them. If you look closely in a few shots, you’ll see a stone pier, which is just between the Pile Gate (pronounced “peel-ay”) at the city walls and the fort. Although I’m one of the few people in the developed world who does not watch Game of Thrones, my co-workers tell me this was one of the locations used for a scene in the show. According to the above context, answer the following question. After the end of this story, I am probably:
Answer: Inspired
Problem: 
Q: "They've got cameras everywhere, man. Not just in supermarkets and departments stores, they're also on your cell phones and your computers at home. And they never turn off. You think they do, but they don't. "They're always on, always watching you, sending them a continuous feed of your every move over satellite broadband connection. "They watch you fuck, they watch you shit, they watch when you pick your nose at the stop light or when you chew out the clerk at 7-11 over nothing or when you walk past the lady collecting for the women's shelter and you don't put anything in her jar. "They're even watching us right now," the hobo added and extended a grimy, gnarled digit to the small black orbs mounted at either end of the train car. There were some days when I loved taking public transportation, and other days when I didn't. On a good day, I liked to sit back and watch the show, study the rest of the passengers, read into their little ticks and mannerisms and body language, and try to guess at their back stories, giving them names and identities in my head. It was fun in a voyeuristic kind of way. And luckily, today was a good day. I watched the old Vietnamese woman with the cluster of plastic shopping bags gripped tightly in her hand like a cloud of tiny white bubbles. My eyes traced the deep lines grooving her face, and I wondered about the life that led her to this place. I watched the lonely businessman staring longingly across the aisle at the beautiful Mexican girl in the tight jeans standing with her back to him. He fidgeted with the gold band on his finger, and I couldn't tell if he was using it to remind himself of his commitment or if he was debating whether he should slyly slip it off and talk to her. According to the above context, answer the following question. Why did the narrator like taking public transportation?
Answer: they liked to watch other passengers
Problem: 
Q: I thought I might get some good ideas if I went down to the hospital. I always have stayed away from hospitals. People died or were born. But now I thought I might get some idea if I went down to where it was all happening, the being born and the dying. Mostly the dying. It was the dying that interested me. I sat on a bench in a sort of waiting room. I wanted to call it a green room; it wasn't a place where the patients would wait to be called by the doctor; it was a place where the relatives would wait while the patient was in their room. It had a coffee bar, and comfortable couches, with trendy, muted colors on the walls and floor. Everything was clean and modern without being cold, a homogenized balancing act designed to keep everyone calm during their stressful time. It was a green room; patients were "guests"; their families were "guests" as well. Here was where the families would sit and be feted while they waited to be called out to perform, to smile and encourage or to don faces of appropriate mournfulness. The old ones would put on smiles, the young ones would look sad. I think I went there because it seemed to me that it was the place richest in emotional impact. It reeked of spent emotions, and the emotions were made all the stronger, here in the green room, by the efforts at suppression--the muted walls and gourmet coffees and scones, the overstuffed loveseats and couches, as if those in grief should not be permitted to sit on benches or folding chairs. It absolutely reeked of hush and hidden feeling. It was worse than a church. It was worse than a highschool hallway. It was more universal, more basic, something even the children could comprehend. According to the above context, answer the following question. What tone does the author most closely express in this text
Answer:
Somberness