Problem:OPTIONS:
- himself
- not enough information
- His parents
- The doctors

The doctors told me I would be placed on a seventy-two hour hold for observation. Knowing this was the only way out, I obeyed and diligently signed all the papers. I hated my parents but still felt the inescapable drive to prove to them that I was worth something. I had to show them I wasn't crazy. As the hours passed, I was shown to a blank room with plastic sheets and plastic pillows, which caused me to wonder what kind of distant confused souls had been imprisoned in this sterile place. There were bars on the windows and the only door out of the unit was locked 24/7. I knew my only refuge for the time being would be through the hour a day art therapy class and the smoke breaks I could take at will. They had given me a legal pad after my parents had told them of my affinity for writing. With it I set to work on the flow of words and the river of thoughts, both dark and hopeful that careened through my tired mind. Instead of sleep, I would write. I expressed my vicious frustration for the place and thought constantly of the passing hours, counting them down as they went. Because of this I was thankful for the eight to ten I would use up easily in my escapes to the world behind my eyelids. There I was free and could experience a life unhindered by limitations of ethics or gravity. When I'd awake I'd write what I could remember of my escapes on the obtrusive legal pad. I had the suspicion that the attendants would come in and read my thoughts as I was eating meals or watching TV and I wondered if this was hindering my ability to get out. I wondered what kind of opinions and judgments they were forming about me. I had bared my soul on those pages explaining desperately how the thoughts would not leave even in this place, where it mattered most that they were gone. The fuckers would never leave. Maybe I was crazy. Question: Who does the narrator hate? === The answer to the above question is
****
A: His parents

This week I shot my Interview with Claire Bridge. Myself and Riah travelled, I would say all the way out too Wheelers Hill, but it's really not that far away, unless you live on the North side, which we both do. Riah and I carried our gear on two trains and 1 bus to get to Claire's studio out in Wheelers Hill. I can see why Claire lives here as it's a pretty beautiful place, it's still suburban but there are trills, hills and birds everywhere, and for someone that's passionate about the environment I can see why she lives here. Meeting Claire was awesome, after having spoken via phone or email for so long, it was nice to speak to her in person. The filming of the interview went extremely smoothly, I'd put this down to having planned out everything, such as all the questions I was going to ask prior to the interview. By this stage I had helped Riah film as well as Elise and it was noticeable how much smoother Riah's interview went because she had pre-planned her questions. Rather than spending an hour asking various questions that you might not use anyway, it's much more efficient to spend 20 minutes covering exactly what you want to cover. By this stage I'd also had practise setting up lights, doing sound and getting camera shots for people's portraits so I already knew everything I wanted to shoot. Our setup was pretty simple, two large lights, one on Claire's front right and one on Claire's front left, two Canon EOS 60D DSLR's at different positions (one straight on, one to the side), a Sony H2N handy recorder and a lapel mic. Everything ran super smoothly, we did the interview first then myself and Riah shot various things in Claire's studio. Whilst shooting various things in Claire's studio we also got a chance to both speak to her which was nice, discussing what it is like to be a woman in Melbourne's art scene and finding out who some of her favourite artists were. Overall the experience was also, I have a lot of friends who are artists so I hope to do more artist portraits in the future. Question: Why did the interview go smoothly? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- They spoke on the phone prior
- various questions were asked
- everything was planned out
everything was planned out

Problem: OPTIONS:
- they know who is behind them
- not enough information
- they could not see
- it's a test
Q: It was a nice summer evening. A cool breeze blowing. Birds singing. Leaves rustling. The waters of the pool shining, shimmering in the sunlight. I was sitting on the steps of the pool, my legs submerged in water.Those blue depths were irrestisible. I inched a bit further in. Water to my waist a little more. closer to the blue..just a little morewater to my chest yes, keep goinga bit morewater to my neck.almost there.the blue gaze of those depths held me in aweoh my..so beaut- Going up a sort of endless escalator. I can't see very well what's in front of me. It's all very dark. I can sense someone behind me, but I dare not look back. For some reason I cannot see my feet. In fact, I cannot see any of me at all. It feels very strange and well,creepy! I want to whistle, to kinda comfort myself, but it feels like I've lost the ability to speak. My mind just doesn't know how to carry out this desire to speak. It feels unnatural.. That someone behind me pokes me in my(invisible) back. Its'(his/her?) touch is strangely warm, then icy. I still don't look back.yes, that's the key, don't look back. It's a test. Just don't look back and you'll- Snap! Back into the pool, panting. Everything is blurry. There are people gathered around the pool, screaming. A hand extends toward me. I reach for it. Well, I'd love to tell you what happened after that, but the thing is, I don't even know myself. For just at that precise moment, my wretched alarm decided to beep-beep. And I never got to see the ending! Wait, did you mean "went to the other side" in reality? Don't be ridiculous! Question: Why didn't they look back? === The answer to the above question is
Answer:
it's a test