Q: I had seen it before, those fuzzy, furry leaves and stalks, with the pretty, star-pointed purple flowers, but up until that moment that I saw them sitting in a basket at the market stalls, I admit I had never taken notice of it as a food. It grow along cracks in stone walls and along the roadside near my home in Settignano, which is blooming with spring goodness right now: robinia (black locust) trees, wild garlic (three-cornered leek) and even elderflowers are already bursting. I asked the vendor just to double check, "Is this borage?" "Si," Came the answer, "Borragine." He confirmed. "I've had it in ravioli," I started to say, "Brava!" He said, as if we were about to start a guessing game on what could be done with it. Actually, there's a lot that can be done with it. If you can use it as a ravioli filling with ricotta, then you can imagine it taking the place of spinach in gnudi, too, but also soups or frittata or stirred through polenta. I learned that the flowers are just as delicious, if not more interesting, for their delicate cucumber-like flavour people told me of their use in salads or cocktails like Pimms, and someone even mentioned she freezes them in ice cubes, what a pretty idea for those first warm nights when you can dine al fresco, homemade cocktail in hand. Then there's risotto and of course the fritters, much like these ones. Or you can simply deep fry the clusters of buds that haven't yet burst open like these deep-fried robinia flowers. borage and ricotta crepes The problem, I was thinking, as I took home my bag of borage, is that I can't decide what to make. There's simply too much choice. I consulted two of my favourite books that also happen to be cookbooks. Patience Gray's Honey from a Weed and Luigi Ballerini's A Feast of Weeds. Both had wonderful ideas for borage (and indeed many other edible, foraged plants). According to the above context, answer the following question. after the passage, the writer probably

OPTIONS:
- tried more dishes
- learned more recipes
- kept cooking
- not enough information

A: kept cooking

input: OPTIONS:
- Pimp
- not enough information
- Desk Manager
- Hitman Now, answer this question: The address I had been given was a flophouse called Casa Salvador in the scummy side of downtown, the part where the city's redevelopment (read: "gentrification") efforts hadn't yet managed to drive out the sundry undesirable elements. I walked inside past the front lobby. I could tell the desk manager wanted to hassle me, but he was too busy arguing with a middle-aged peroxide-blonde woman in a leopard-print top. Her skin was leathery and weather beaten, and I guessed she was the type who was actually a good ten years younger than she looked. I made my way up the narrow staircase that smelled of urine and bleach, going all the way to the third floor. I continued down the dimly lit hallway, past a series of closed doors that muffled the sounds of women faking moans of pleasure. Room 313 was down at the far end of the hall, and its door was already slightly ajar. I knocked anyways, but there was no answer. Pushing the door open just enough to poke my head in, I called, "Hello? Is anybody in there?" There was no response, so I went in and felt along the wall for the light switch. A single weak bulb came on, lighting up the tiny, sparse room with a dim yellow glow. The room was about 8 feet by 8 feet, and the only furniture was a dingy, unmade bed and a metal foot locker. There were no windows, no closet, and no bathroom. As I stepped all the way in, I noticed a wooden baseball bat propped up beside the door. My watch said 6:20 - twenty minutes late for the interview. I sat on the edge of the bed to wait, hoping that maybe my contact had just stepped out momentarily. After a few minutes, a phone started ringing out in the hallway. I let it ring six times with no one answering before I decided to get it - partly in the off chance it was my contact, but mostly out of morbid curiosity as to what kind of business someone would have calling this dump. According to the above context, answer the following question. What kind of job was he going to an interview for?
A:
output: not enough information

Problem:OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- It made her delusional and suicidal
- Because she didn't want to be a guinea pig
- It made her osteoarthritis worse

Yes I definitely have. It was over ten years ago now I was diagnosed as Borderline Personality Disorder but presenting with symptoms of Bi Polar Mania. I was in hospital for treatment and of course the psychiatrist wanted to medicate me until the manic phase subsided so as to better stabilize me and get the right diagnosis, etc. It is an art, Psychiatry, as far as I'm concerned. I do not have the education to elaborate on say, Pharmaceuticals or Cognitive Science (other than a few college courses on Behavioral Psychology) nor can I comprehend these fields of reference as clearly as I'd like to, but what I experienced was GETTING THE WRONG MEDICATION!! for my presenting psychological manifestations. I was put on Seroquil; too sedating even in minute doses. Prozac. Sent me over the edge, and a complete 180 to the point where I was extremely delusional and dangerously suicidal. These mind-altering medications can be fatal. It was scary and literally ruined my life for a time I was worse than minorly-depressed or hypo-manic (conditions much more manageable than what I previously described) for a long time when I first started a regime with Zoloft, but it did wind up being the best drug to manage my depressive state and enable me to function in a more socially adaptive manner. Then they added Lamictal, which has truly kept me stable ever since. But yes, it is a trial and error method as far as I can tell... My Mother never wanted me to try any medication because she said "They" were using me like a guinea pig, but when the benefit outweighs the risk, they take the risk. You can't always trust medicine but if you have an experienced doctor you should trust them especially if you want to get better, whatever your ailment may be. I have osteoarthritis, DSP, and Sciatica also, so am familiar with drugs used to treat physical health issues too but no huge issues with these medications, not like psychiatric drugs that's for sure. According to the above context, answer the following question. Why didn't the patient take Prozac?
****
A:
It made her delusional and suicidal