Write a question from the passage such that it identifies a character (a person or a thing) in the passage.

Q: What was the reason behind you becoming a Wiccan?
I had very bad experiences with the old angry bearded GOD in the Christian religion. He had turned his back on me. He had betrayed me time and time again. So, I left. Still wanting connection with a higher power, I hungered for connection.
I liked communing with the Wiccan Gods. I also liked how They made me feel, at peace, and I felt I had the strength to change my own life for the better.
They are always there for me.
How did you find it?
When I was a teen I heard the word Wicca. I didn't know what that was. I was curious and decided to investigate it.
So, the next day I went to a book store. I asked the lady behind the counter if they had any books on "Wicca."
She got excited and whisked me off to the metaphysical section of the store. She told me she was pagan and started handing me book after book into my arms. Soon I could barely see over the books in my arms.
I mumbled behind the books, "Which ONE book would you recommend."
She then handed me Scott Cunningham's book Wicca, A Guide for the Solitary Practitioner.
I purchased the book and took it home.
With my dyslexia it was not easy for me to read. But I started reading and plowed through the book.
I found many things I was already doing. He talked about things I already understood to be true.
The book rang true for me. I dedicated myself to the God and Goddess when I finished the book.
Have you ever had any bad experiences after completing a spell?
I did a prosperity spell once and got the opposite reaction I was hoping for. I lost all my income! I realized later my mistakes and redid the spell correctly and then got the results I truly wanted.

A: Who wrote the book, A Guide for the Solitary Practitioner?
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Q: The sudden burst of spring produce in the market after a long, monotonous winter of cavolo nero and bright oranges is one of the things that constantly reminds me why I love living and eating in Italy. A wander through the market like any other becomes, in spring time, a new experience. I feel like a fresh arrival, like it's my first time walking through my local market.
There are long, twisty fava bean pods, waiting to be podded and munched on with bitey pecorino cheese to tame the bitterness of the raw beans. Thin, long-stemmed asparagus. A lovely array of greens, including radishes with leaves so happy that they become the main ingredient, fluffy-fronded fresh herbs and fresh garlic. Artichokes of many different kinds, but especially the pointed purple ones that are either local, from Tuscany's Maremma, or sometimes from Puglia or Sicily. Rarely the rounded globe artichokes you find spilling out of crates in Rome, or the tiny, delicate Venetian ones, the so-called castraure (though they often aren't the real deal, how you can tell is by the price) that you can find in the shadow of the Rialto.
And then there are thick bunches of agretti (salsola soda), looking more like mermaid's hair than a monk's beard, their English namesake. A few years ago, this wasn't such a common sight at the market in Florence. It still isn't, in that you won't get them by the crateful like you do fava beans and artichokes, though they're not particularly difficult to find now. They're just one of those special things that don't last long. Blink and you'll miss them, or come late to the market and they could easily be sold out. It's worth getting up and out of the house a little earlier for these (a note to myself, of course).
If you've never tasted agretti before, it's worth seeking out if you're in the right place at the right time and find a bunch or see it on a menu. Frances Mayes likens it to spinach, but notes that it is so much more, "While agretti has the mineral sharpness of spinach, it tastes livelier, full of the energy of spring."

A: Who says agretti is like spinach?
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Q: Another phone call at just after three. He answered on the third ring.
"Is this Mr. Ray--uh. . ." The sound of shuffling papers.
"Yes."
The voice brightened perceptibly, strapped on a mask of friendliness. "My name is John Donovan. I'm an attorney representing the family of Donald Ackerman. I'm sorry to be calling so late."
"It's not late for me."
A laugh, intended to sound nervous or flustered. To Ray, it only sounded false. "That's right, of course. Only late for me. Do you mind if I tape record this conversation?"
Smooth segue, meant to catch him off guard, startle him into acceptance.
"Yes, I do mind. Can I help you?" You fucking bastard.
John Donovan paused on his end of the line. Ray imagined him reaching for a legal pad upon which to take notes (just as he was supposed to imagine), though, of course, the tape recorder was still running.
"Um, I was wondering if I could get some information?"
"Sir, federal law prohibits me from acknowledging either to confirm or deny the presence of the individual of whom you have spoken or his participation in our program."
Ray grinned.
"Very well done," the lawyer said. "I guess that sets the parameters."
"I guess it does."
"Were you working two nights ago."
"Sir, I am bound by Center policy and state law from discussing with you the work schedule of our employees at this facility unless you are an officer of the law or bearing a subpoena, in which case, I am only authorized to refer you to my supervisor."
Ray grinned again. He was enjoying this.
"What if I told you I have possession of a subpoena?"
"Have you spoken to our attorney?" Ray countered.
"In fact, son, yes I have. This afternoon."
Ray grunted. Standard level of communication. "That's good, because I haven't. Which means, of course, that I'm not prepared to talk to you at all until advised on my statement by legal counsel."

A:
Who placed the phone call?
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