(Question)
It was hot. The smell of blood already hung heavy in the air. The white sands, imported from the far west mountains of limestone, sucked up the fire of the huge red sun. It was always hot in the south desert. Even in the deep of night the stones of Gazu Kadem kept the city warm. Now, at mid-day, it was at its hottest. A quarter of a million people at the arena didn't make it any cooler. The merchants, nobles, and the slaves lucky enough to attend had waited outside Dan Trex's arena for days. They knew the value of entertainment in such a dark world. They wore cowls to protect themselves from the sun as they waited. Entire businesses thrived on the forced mercantile of the captive audience. Food went for thrice its cost to those waiting near the entrance. Water went for five times as much. The arena was as old as the city, built in the days of the old empire for a king now long forgotten. The octagonal arena was a machine, an engine that built warriors out of the raw material of flesh, blood, and steel. Now, thousands of years later, it still served that purpose. The machine had built Dan Trex's army, half a million of the most ruthless and well trained soldiers to ever walk the planet. While one hundred and fifty thousand civilians and slaves got drunk, gambled, shat, fucked, and slept on the stone steps; one hundred thousand of his men sat in silence wearing black and bronze and watching him as Trex walked out into the arena alone and unhelmed. His soldiers watched the games in silence. They made not a sound when twelve of the most beautiful girls to walk on small bare feet were raped and flayed apart by dark priests in a ritual to Gazu Kadem's god-king, Danken Ovelde. They studied the three-horned desert bull as it gored five slaves. They watched the spear technique of four slave armies as they warred in a single great battle. They watched blades of silver spray fans of red blood into the air. They watched vital organs spill onto the white sands. They heard men and women scream as life left them. They... What is probably true about women screaming A. not enough information B. they were dancing C. they were happy D. they were in pain
(Answer)
D

(Question)
I've learnt a great amount throughout this studio, first and foremost I was taught: how the art world functions, how specific galleries such as Gertrude St Contemporary run and how artists earn a living. The studio also provided me with basic filmmaking skills such as how to: create a shooting schedule, write a shooting script, set up three-point lighting, conduct an interview, utilise visual storytelling and edit a short film. Throughout the shooting process with my artist I also developed my abilities regarding how to use a: Sony Zoom H2N (and other such handy recorders), a lapel mic, my own Canon EOS 60D and Adobe Premiere Pro editing software. Overall I think the studio functioned quite successfully, it was great to be in a studio with nineteen people who all were interested in the same topics as you. I felt that overall, the studios had a very happy and supportive environment, and you walked away knowing a great deal about the art world and how to make short documentaries. The project itself taught me a great deal about how to work with talent, as well as my group members. Having to work independently forced me to be completely all over every aspect of the shoot, whether that be choosing which questions to ask, deciding what to focus on, where I wanted the shoot to happen, deciding what gear to use, getting to the shoot, carrying all the gear, what I wanted to shoot, managing the audio, managing the lighting, managing the camera set-ups, managing the talent, editing the film, and finding a great soundtrack for it. I'm a pretty self-conscious person and I often doubt the decisions I make or ask someone else for their opinion (should I shoot this angle, or what do you think of this question etc.). Working independently pushed me to go with my gut instincts, to make decisions and to not seek others approval. It forced me to develop my aesthetic as a filmmaker and to own the work that I ended up producing, so ultimately I was really glad with how everything panned out. What is probably true about the narrator? A. He likes movies B. He likes books C. not enough information D. He likes sports
(Answer)
A

(Question)
It was a good feast. Celenda's manservant had purchased two of the biggest and strongest oxen in Fena Kef and they now roasted over the hall's two huge braziers. The smell filled Celenda's nostrils. She closed her eyes and laid back on her silk divan, enjoying the sights and sounds. Her finger fiddled with a torn seam on the divan's armrest and her pleasure faded. She would have flogged her seamstress for allowing such a thing but the woman had fled a year ago. She could barely afford clothing acceptable to a woman of her position, though few could say for certain what that position was, so she simply wore less clothes overall. She raised her arms behind her back and let the warmth of the braziers flow over her body. Though the number shrank, many still enjoyed Celenda's frequent celebrations. Some laughed and shouted on one side, some coupled in the dark shadows and behind silk curtains. Most feasted and drank and everyone partook in the red lotus. Celenda beckoned a thin slave boy, one of her last few, and he came holding a bronze bowl. Dried red leaves covered the bottom of the bowl. 'Why is this bowl not full?' she shouted at the boy. He cringed but she could tell he was not really frightened. She could not afford to injure or kill him and everyone knew it. She slapped him, but not hard. If she hit too hard she would find herself with one less slave along with her diminishing supply of the red leaf. Instantly the thoughts of the crumbling villa, the torn furniture, and the diminishing coffers fled from her mind. Euphoria flowed in. She felt it in her fingers and toes. What is in the bowl? A. Soup B. Purple leaves. C. Red petals. D. not enough information
(Answer)
C