Estimated User #1,861
5 fiction conversations
over 1 month, 11 days
(Mar 14, 2024 – Apr 25, 2024)
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Kharkiv, Ukraine
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Mar 14, 2024
Apr 25, 2024
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5 conversations in cluster Cluster 0× “tell me the short summary of this story: The desert was dark...” over 1 month, 11 days (Mar 14, 2024 – Apr 25, 2024), oldest first.
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USER: Please, analyse the story and make the short summary: 'Remember,' her teacher, Kit, said. 'Remember what you saw tonight from a cue Japanese master, Self-conuol. Holding back emotion. Now, homework. Write a story that shows the relationship between two people. Fifteen hundred words. Be delicate. No drama. And you,' she said, looking at Abi, and smiling, 'no dead bodies, please.' Abi left the Vancouver Film School and walked quickly past the guys begging for change on Hastings Street. Her whole body felt light with excitement. She smiled when she thought about Kit's words. Yes, Abi thought, she could write thrillers. Dead bodies were no problem; now it was time to develop some new skills. She turned onto Dunsmuir Street and went towards the skytrain station, thinking about the film they'd warched in her screenwriting class that evening. It was Tokyo Story by the Japanese director, Ozu, made in 1953. It had always been one of Abi' favourite films, and it was wonderful to see it again. The acting was outstanding, she thought, feelings were indicated powerfully by just a look or a turn of the head, a handkerchief held in a hand. Ie was all very Japanese. As you watched it you felt that it had a kind of universal truth. Yes, very Japanese. She had studied Japanese back in London and a word came to her from the depths of her memory. Enryo. It meant calmness and self- control, or holding back. Yes, Tokyo Story showed Enryo all right. Nothing much seemed to happen, but by the end of ...
CHATBOT: The story revolves around Abi, a student at Vancouver Film School, who is inspired by a lesson on the Japanese concept of Enryo, symbolizing self-control and subtlety, from the film "Tokyo Story". Tasked with writing a delicate story for homework, without resorting to her usual themes of thrillers and dead bodies, Abi reflects on her passion and the contrast between the artistic inspiration she draws from her class and the reality of her life with her partner, Ray, a commercial lawyer. As they navigate Vancouver's public transportation system and the cold Canadian winter after her class, Abi's enthusiasm for film and storytelling starkly contrasts with Ray's disinterest and preoccupation with work. Their encounter with a homeless man on the bus escalates into a conflict, revealing the depth of Ray's disenchantment and stress, culminating in him forcefully ejecting the man from the bus. This incident, juxtaposed with the beggar's advice to Abi to reconsider her relationship with Ray, leads her to a moment of clarity about the gradual erosion of their connection, much like the slow, eroding force of waves on a rock. The story tells of Abi's realization that her relationship with Ray might be coming to an end, not through dramatic events, but through subtle, persistent differences in their outlooks and attitudes. It encapsulates the notions of self-control and subtlety as not just artistic principles but also guiding forces in understanding personal relationships and one's path in life.
USER: write the same but easier way
CHATBOT: The story is about Abi, who goes to Vancouver Film School, where her teacher, Kit, encourages her to write a story that's subtle and without her usual dramatic twists. Inspired by a Japanese film they watched in class called "Tokyo Story," Abi thinks about how to apply its lessons of self-control and subtlety in storytelling. After class, while heading home, she meets up with her boyfriend, Ray, a busy lawyer. They take public transportation, and along the way, they encounter a homeless man on the bus. Ray gets upset and kicks the man off the bus, which leads to a moment of tension and reflection for Abi. A passenger advises Abi to leave Ray, suggesting he's not right for her. This makes Abi think about her relationship with Ray in a new light. In the end, Abi muses on how relationships can end not with dramatic events but slowly over time, like waves eroding a rock. She hints that her relationship with Ray might be ending, fulfilling her teacher's assignment in an unexpected way; her story is about her life, subtle and without drama or dead bodies, just like Kit wanted.
USER: Please, analyse the story and maketell me the short summary: 'Remember,' her teacher, Kit, said. 'Remember whatsummary of this story: The desert was dark pink, the sky was baby blue; the whole thing looked good cnough to cat. The road from Santa Pe made its way like a black snake through the red and pink landscape. Through the hot air the tall man standing at the side of the road could see the sharp mountain peaks of the Rockies in the distance. 'At last a truck came. The first thing he heard was the distant sound of an engine. Sweetest sound in the whole world when you've been out in the desert sun for wo hours and you're beginning to think you saw tonight from a cue Japanese master, Self-conuol. Holding back emotion. Now, homework. Write a story that shows the relationship between two people. Fifteen hundred words. Be delicate. No drama. And you,' she said, lookingmight die there. Real sweet. He blinked at Abi, and smiling, 'no dead bodies, please.' Abi left the Vancouver Film School and walked quickly past the guys begging for change on Hastings Street. Her whole body felt light with excitement. She smiled when she thought about Kit's words. Yes, Abi thought, she could write thrillers. Dead bodies were no problem; now it was time to develop some new skills. She turned onto Dunsmuir Street and went towards the skytrain station, thinking about the film they'd warched in her screenwriting class that evening. It was Tokyo Story by the Japanese director, Ozu, made in 1953. It had always been one of Abi' favourite films, and it was wonderful to see it again. The acting was outstanding, she thought, feelings were indicated powerfully by just a look or a turn of the head, a handkerchief held in a hand. Ie was all very Japanese. As you watched it you felt that it had a kind of universal truth. Yes, very Japanese. She had studied Japanese back in London and a word came to her from the depths of her memory. Enryo. It meant calmness and self- control, or holding back. Yes, Tokyo Story showed Enryo all right. Nothing much seemed to happen, but by the end of the film you felt you really knew the characters and cared deeply about them. Such a change from typical Hollywood films, thought Abi, as shethe road and looked ahead, listening. Yeah, it was a truck alright. He ran up the steps to the skytrain stationthrough the bushes at Stadium. Abithe side of the road and stood and waitedright there staring into the distance, so that he could see the truck as soon it came into view, Then he saw it, a bright piece of silver, with sunlight bouncing off it in all directions. A great silver insect crawling across the stillness of the desert floor of New Mexico. As the truck got nearer he tried to make out the driver. Looked like a woman. A woman with dark red hair and sunglasses, those kind of shades that the sun bounces off too. Well, that was that, he thought. No way was a woman alone going to stop for the skytrain to Broadway. A bitter December wind blewa guy hitchhiking in the middle of nowhere. He turned away. The truck just rolled on, just like he knew it would. But then he heard the sound of brakes as the truck came to a stop about two hundred meters further on. He turned around again and looked at the clouds of dust the truck had thrown up. After a minute or so the dust settled, the door of the driver's cab swung open and a pair of blue jeans came down off the coastal mountains and through Stadium starion.from the cab, The woman appeared, wearing a white 'cowgirl' shirt and western boots to go with the jeans. She shivered and closedstill had her warm winter jacket around her.sunglasses on. The man wondered whether her eyes were green. He always did like green eyes. He walked slowly towards the truck. 'Can I help you, ma'am?' he asked, trying to see her eyes behind the shades. She looked at her watch; it was nine thirty-five. Ray would be on the skytrain and they would go home together to their apartment on Commercial Drive, Theyhim long and hard, like she was trying to work out if he was dangerous. The man did his best to look harmless. "Yeah, well . . . looks like my brakes froze up,' she said. ". . a rock must have cut the brake pipe.' She paused, and must have decided that he seemed OK because she said, "You any good with tape?" "You got any?"he asked. "There's some in the back of the cab,' she said. 'Il get it.' She got back into the cab and came back a few minutes later with the tape. He took it and crawled under the truck. "How's it going?' she shouted after a few minutes. 'Hot as hell!' he shouted back. About ten minutes later he found the place where the air line had decided not to use their four-wheel drive car in the city; it was hard to park and the public transport system was good. Just two stops on the skytrain and then the number twenty bus to their apartment. They always met up on the skytrain on 'Wednesday evenings and went home together. Abi went to her class and Ray stayed atbeen cut. 'Here it is!" he shouted. 'A big fat hole the size of Texas," He set to work late. He was a commercial lawyer and his office was downtown. Abi looked at the mountains that surrounded the city. 'The snow sparkled in the moonlight and here and there she could see the lights of the ski runs. Sometimes she just couldn't believe her luck, living in Vancouver. It was simply beautiful. It had these fantastic mountains and an incredible coastline. At weekends, when Ray didn't have work to do, they could go skiing at Grouse Mountain or Whistler. But it wasn't just skiing and the outdoor lifestyle. Te was also that Vancouver had so many opportunities for writers. They called it Hollywood North; the city was full of directors, producers, actors and writers. Abi had known fortaping it, and crawled back out some time that it was the right place to work on her screenwriting career, so when Ray's firm had wanted to transfer him to Vancouver six months ago, it had been a great opportunity. 'The clean white skytrain arrived at the station. Abi got on and looked around for Ray. She found him right at the end of the train. He looked so English in his dark suit, so out of place somehow. He smiled thinly at her, He looked grey and tired. Now she thought about it, he always looked tired these days. Well, it was true that he had to work long, hours at the office. She kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Good day?" "Oh, it was all right, I suppose,' helater, hot and dirty. The woman was still standing there in the fall heat of the sun. "That should do it,' the man said to her. "How far you gonna go?" 'Denver,' she said, staring blankly ahead. 'Just too much work. The boss has just signed another contract. And I've got to go to Toronto next week." Ray's hoss was always sending Ray to Toronto ar Montreal on business. "Oh really?' said Abi. "Toronto . . .' The excitement of her film class still burned inside her. 'There was a silence for a few moments. "Main Street, Science World,' came the automated voice. The train slowed down as it approached the station. "We saw a fantastic film tonight,' said Abi, as the train moved out of the station. "Oh yeah? God, I'm hungry." 'Japanese. Tokyo Story. "Didnt have time for lunch today. 'Tes really exciting,' said Abi. 'I mean, what you can do with film." "Starving." "[mean, I know that Shakespeare said action is eloquence; that it speaks for itself, and it's true because action is important, but it doesn't have to be extreme action. I mean, if you think about it. . .' "Broadway, Commercial Drive' said the automated voice. 'Abi and Ray stood up automatically. They walked along the platform and down the steps to the bus stop. "T hate this bus. It's always late,' Ray said as they waited for bus twenty in the cold. He always complained about the bus. The corner of Commercial and Broadway, where they had to wait for it, was one of the coldest, windiest places in the city. Then the bus itself was always full of, well, interesting people. Someone was always shouting out, starting an argument or talking nonsense to you. This was the darker side of Vancouver. It wasn't that it was a bad city. I was just that Vancouver was full of people who were a lice 'differene'. Especially on public transport. Abi loved it. 'As a writer, she found the bus endlessly exciting. It was full of stories and completely unpredictable.moving towards the cab. "Denver? Me too. But Ray couldn't see its charm, and never stopped complaining about it. 'After a cold ten-minute wait, the bus arrived and they found a seat well inside. 'Got a toonie for a cup of coffee, miss?" 'The bearded man in the seat in front had turned round and was looking at Abi. 'Tonic' was the Canadian word for a two-dollar piece.I guess... ." She looked at the man carefilly. He looked sick. He was thin and grey, andhim again, up and down. 'Get in,' she said slowly. 'You look pretty harmless to me and I guess I owe you something.' 'Hey,' he said, 'thanks. Yeah,' she said. They both got into the driver's cab. Even with the air conditioning off, it was cool, at least a hell of a lot cooler than outside. 'Have some water' she said, 'What ya doing out here anyway? You crazy?" She passed him a water bottle and he drank. The water was sweet and cool. He drank thirstly, letting it run down the sides of his clothes and beard were dirty.mouth and onto his neck. He didn't answer her. "So? she asked again. "Well, it's a long story. . ." he said. She pushed up her glasses to take a proper look and flashed a smile at him. She had seen the bus driver let him on the busthe whitest teeth he'd ever seen, And she did have the prettiest green eyes. 'Yeah, well save it for free.laters it's going to be a long trip,' she said, still smiling. And with thar she put her glasses down and started the engine up again. The kindest drivers sometimes did that. Abi started to reach into her pocket for a two-dollar piece. "Forget it,' said Ray to the man. "But the lady..." "Forget the lady,' said Ray firmly. 'Abi, don't." 'Abi looked at Ray. His cheeks were suddenly red. 'Thetruck continued its journey through the high fat desert that makes up most of I-25, the main highway from New Mexico to Colorado. As she drove, the man with the beard leaned towards Abi. His breath smelt bad. 'Listen,' said Ray, losing his temper. 'Leave us alone.' 'The man ignored him and just carried on moving his face towards Abi. "Let me give him something,' said Abi sofdly, trying to calm the situation down. But Ray was not to be calmed. He jumped out of his seat. 'Ray, dont..." Burt Ray had now gone heyond words. He picked the man up by his dirty collar and pushed him to the floor of the bus. The man landed heavily. "Leave us alone!" Ray shouted again. By now the whole bus was shouting. Some of the passengers were moving towards the man on the floor. One man asked the driver to stop the bus. A woman helped the bearded man to his feet. 'Come on,' said Ray. 'Ler's get off this awful bus!" 'No, let's..." 'Get off the bus!' Ray's face was white with anger. 'No,' said Abi. 'Let's just go home.' Ray looked at her andhands on the wheel. Small, strong hands. He couldn't stop looking at the New Mexican turquoise ring she was wearing. The colour was so beautiful. Kind of held your attention, After a while the ring and the endlessness of the desert made him feel light-headed. Perhaps he'd been out in the sun for too long. "You got anything to eat in here?" he asked her. 'All that work made me kinda hungry. 'Sure.' She smiled at him, a flash of green eyes. 'Have a look in the cooler.' He opened it, found a piece of bread and some cheese and ate hungrily. They rode along in silence for a while. He stared out of the window at the desert. "You got a name?" she asked suddenly. 'Sure, my name's Ted,' he said. 'How about you?" 'Lee,' she said. "That's a pretty name,' he said. 'Pleased to meet you." 'There was another half-hour of silence as the truck made its way across the desert floor. 'T can't help but notice that you ain't got any luggage Ted,' she said suddenly. 'That's right,' he said. 'I left it in Denver with some friends. I'm gonna pick it up when I get there, 'Have you been driving trucks long?' he asked. 'Yeah, well, a couple of years,' she said. 'Like it?" 'Ie's a living.' She smiled that smile again and added, 'I love the scenery.' She nodded towards the window. As the man followed her glance out into the bright sunlight he saw a sign coming towards them at the side of the road. 'Do not pick up hitchhikers,' said the sign. He glanced at her. If she had seen it she wasn't going to say anything. That was just fine by him, he thought. "Yeah, it is pretty,' he said. He closed his eyes. Very soon he fell asleep. He woke up to the truck coming to a stop outside a gas station. The noise of the brakes and the sudden movement made him jump. 'Hey,' said Lee, laughing. 'Coming back to life, eh?" He rubbed his eyes and looked around. The sun had lost some of its fierceness, He guessed it was around five. There were two other trucks parked at the gas station and in the diner next to it he could see the drivers drinking coffee and cating hamburgers. "Pm just going to freshen up,' she said She picked up her wash bag, went off to the drivers' rest room and came back a few minutes later. She'd combed her hair and looked really nice. 'You gonna get something to drink, Ted?' she asked. 'Ah no,' he said. 'P'm fine. I'll wait for you.' 'TI just pick up a cola and a burger, she said. 'Sure you don't want anything?" "Well ... that sounds good,' he said, changing his mind. She came back a few minutes later with the drinks and burgers. Then she parked the truck round the back of the diner and they settled down to eat. The desert air was still hot and the ice-cold cola tasted great. 'So what did you do before you started driving trucks?" he asked her, between mouthfuls of burger. "Ob, this and that,' she said. 'I worked as a ski instructor up in Aspen for a couple of years. 'Hey!' he said, 'that must have been a great job. Did you meet lots of famous people?" She laughed. 'Well yeah,' she said, 'lots .. . and it was a great job." "So why did you stop?' he asked. 'Thad an accident,' she said, shaking her head. 'One day was skiing downhill, really fast. The snow was great, the sun was wonderful. Everything was just fine, then bang! I fell and the next thing I knew I was in hospital.' 'Ie sounds bad,' he said. "Well, could have been worse,' she continued. 'I ended up with just a broken leg and some bruised ribs but it took a few months to recover. When I was well, I decided that it was time for a change, time to do something new. You know what I mean?" "Well, yeah, sometimes you just have to make changes,' he said, hardly knowing what he meant. There was something about this woman that made you want to talk to her, tell her about the secret places in your mind. "Wow! Look at that!' she said suddenly, pointing towards the mountains in the distance. The huge sky had turned orange with the light from the dying sun; it looked like someone had lit a huge fire behind the mountains. Nature was giving them the full display and it was beautiful. "That's what I mean,' she said. 'The scenery's just to die for. Worth more than all the money in the world.' They finished their colas and left, heading out towards the state border between New Mexico and Colorado. "Truth is,' she started almost as soon as they started off again, 'I was trying to get away from a guy. I mean... that's why I got out of Aspen." 'Oh really?" "Yeah,' she said, laughing nervously. 'Well, he was my husband in fact. I'd been trying for years to get away from him, But I couldn't ... Then I had this accident and I thought it was a good chance to disappear.' There was a pause. 'You don't mind me telling you all this, do you, Ted?" 'No, I don't,' he replied kindly. 'No way. But tell me, how did you get mixed up with him in the first place . . . if you don't mind me asking." She looked at him and sighed. 'Well ... 1 met him when I was eighteen. He was twenty-one. That was back in my home town, Pueblo, Colorado, God, what a place that is! Ever been there?' He shook his head. 'Let'Lucky you!' she said. 'Home of the living dead, I swear. Ie' the kind of place you have to escape from. Anyway, he was the best-looking guy in Pueblo, though that's not saying much.' She laughed. 'No, he was really cute, really nice. We got married when I was nineteen.' "That sure is young," he said. 'I guess I didn't know any better,' she carried on. 'And anything was better than living at home, let me tell you. 'Anyway, it was the same old story. Before we got married he was the sweetest guy in the world, Brought me flowers, presents. Treated me nice, you know. Id never met a man who could be that nice. But then things changed.' "Changed?" "Yeah, well he changed practically overnight,' she said. 'Soon after we got married he started drinking a lot, going out with his friends. He never took me out any more.' 'And? "Well, I would do something small, something kinda insignificant like making too much noise, but it would be enough to make him get off? he shouted to the driver,violent,' she said. 'You know, it was like an excuse..." "He hit you?' he asked. 'He did, and I got the scars to prove it!" she replied. "When he drank he just couldn't control himself. And he drank a lot. A real whiskey drinker, Then he started gambling and going with other women.' 'And that was as soon as you got married?" he asked. "Yeah, and it got worse,' she answered. 'My friends told me he had other women, but I knew that -- it was obvious. 'There were nights when he just didn't come home. When he finally turned up in the morning you could smell the whiskey and the women on him.' ee a "Why did he want to stay with me? She asked the question for him. 'He just couldn't live without me. Oh, he had his women, but he always came back. He needed someone to push around, to make him feel like a man." She shook her head. 'I used to pray that he'd drop dead or find someone else and stay away from me. I swear I had seven years of hell!" 'Seven years?" he said, shocked. 'You put up with that for seven years?" "Oh, it's not like I didn't try to get out,' she said. 'Almost every single day, believe me. But it was like being in jail. No matter how sweet the grass smells outside your cell, you just cant get free.' 'Er. . . yeah,' he said. 'I tried everything,' she continued. 'Left in the middle of the night, changed states, changed my name. Somehow he always found me! That's why I decided to leave Aspen after the accident. I knew that it was only a matter of time before he found me again.' She shivered, remembering the fear. Lee stopped talking for a moment as she struggled with her feelings. They both listened to the silence of the desert, only broken by the comforting noise of the engine. Then she spoke again, this time in a softer voice. 'Td loved him, you know, I mean in the beginning,' she said. 'Yeah, loved him. But then it all changed for me. I started to hate him.' Then she added seriously, 'Matter of fact, that's the worse thing about it all. You learn about hate; you discover that you can hate somebody that much. 'You lose your innocence, you know?" He nodded. He knew what she meant. 'Twas a kid when I met him,' she continued. 'I was so full of dreams, I thought the world was full of love. That I was full of love... He taught me a lesson alright, taught me how to hate, just like everyone else.' She took a deep breath, 'It takes time to get over that,' she said. 'It takes time to find love again. Even to find it in your own heart.' She sighed and went quiet. Her face looked kind of sad. 'So what happened?" he asked after a few minutes. 'I mean, where is he now?" "Hal' she said loudly. 'He finally gor it! Finally got what he deserved! Got killed in a bar one night in Taos.' 'In Taos?" "Yeah, got into a fight with some guy,' she answered. 'Over a woman, of course. Anyway, the guy shot him, cool as you like. The police called in the middle of the night to tell me the bad news. I swear, Ted, I could hardly keep the smile off my face. First thought that came into my head was, "I'm free! I've been in jail and now I'm free!" I just went away and tried to forget.' She smiled now, remembering it all. 'Don't know why I'm telling you all this,' she added. There was silence for a while, apart from the soft murmur of the engine. They were about an hour from the border with Colorado. It was evening now; the softening light wrapped around them like a blanket. 'After about twenty minutes, she said, 'Let's get over Raton Pass and into Colorado, then we can catch some sleep." 'Great idea,' he said. They were still another seven hours or so from Denver. 'Mind if I turn on the radio" she asked. 'Er. . . no,' he said, 'how about a music channel?" 'Sure,' she said and turned it on. It was Anita Baker singing 'Giving you the best that I've got. The man closed his eyes and listened to her sweet voice. It was like honey pouring into the truck. Lee started singing along to the radio. 'Mmm . . . pretty voice,' he said. Lee didn't say anything, but carried on singing. The song ended. Then a man's voice came over the radio: 'And now its eight thirty and on Radio New Mexico we have some news for you, so let's go over to the newsroom and Chucho Martinez." The man cleared his throat. 'Es, why don't we change channel and get some more music?" he said. 'Shh,' said Lee. 'In a minute, Let me hear the news." He kept his eyes closed. 'Good evening, and the news tonight is that a man has escaped from the New Mexico State Prison just outside Santa Fe. The man is Jed King, doing life for killing ewenty-eight-year-old Tony Garcia in a bar fight in Taos, New Mexico, four years ago. Drivers are being warned by the state police tonight not to pick up hitchhikers. And that's particularly if you're driving on 1-25. And now on to other news . He stil kept his eyes firmly closed. "Well," said Lee suddenly, turning off the radio, 'we're almost there. There's Raton Pass just ahead of us." 'The man opened his eyes a little and looked up towards the pass. It was the time just before darkness falls; in another fifteen or twenty minutes the light would be completely gone. Right now the sky was an incredible red and purple, the day's last light show. The truck started to climb towards the top of the pass. He closed his eyes again. They drove along in silence as they reached the top and started down the other side of the pass. He kept his eyes shut like he was asleep, but his mind was racing. He thought back to that night in Taos, The night he killed Tony Garcia. "You're him, aren't you?" 'The man jumped. "You're Jed King, the man who immediatelykilled Tony. . . the man who killed my husband,' she said. Her voice was low. "You've escaped from jail." He opened the doors: 'The bus moved off, leaving Ray walking down Commercial Drive, past the fast food places and shops, staring hardhis eyes a little and nodded. 'Tnever went to the trial,' she said, "Tell you the truth, I never thought about who killed him. I was just happy he 'was gone." He looked across at the pavement. 'On the bus, the passengers calmed down quickly. Ither, She looked calm, kind of peaceful somehow. They had reached the other side of the pass and had already crossed the state border some time back. Lee turned the wheel and pulled the truck off the road. They were surrounded by darkness, parked in a rest area well away from the lights of the highway. She turned to look at him and he could just make out her face, her bright green eyes shining. Like cat's eyes on a dark road. "That's right,' he said. 'I killed him. But I swear it was self-defence. I didn't mean to. . ." 'As he said it, unbelievably, he started to cry. He hadn't cried for a long time, maybe since he was a kid. 'I didn't mean to... I didn't mean to ...' He was actually 'weeping, great sobs coming from his chest. Te was like some kind of wall breaking. Suddenly Jed King felt the full force of the injustice of it all, a feeling he hadn't allowed himself to have before. He remembered the trial, with the jury who didn't believe his story, and the 'witnesses', Garcia's friends, who had lied in court. He remembered the moment when the judge had said the words, 'You will go to jail for life.' He cried for the four years he had been a fairly normal scenelocked up in the hell of the state penitentiary because he had killed a man who otherwise would have killed him. He cried at the feeling that he would never again be really free, never be able to listen to the silence of the desert or see the sun set over the mountains without being afraid. 'Ie wasn't my fault, believe me. You have to believe me!" he said. 'I never wanted nd She leaned over towards him and put her finger on his lips. 'Shhh,' she said, running her fingers around his mouth. 'I know, I know,' she said, softly. 'It sounds like we both escaped from a life sentence.' Then she kissed him. They lay on the little bed just behind the cab and looked at the night sky through the little window in the roof. It was dark blue with a pattern of stars, like something from a child's storybook. The desert moon was so big you could see its dark and light areas. It was very cold now, in that way the desert has of suddenly showing you that it knows how to do both. Ie takes time, she had said, to find love again, even to find it in your own heart. As they lay there in the stillness of the desert, he knew that they had both found a way back to love, a way back from despair. Somehow he knew that it would all come right. He would be able to prove that he had shot Garcia in self-defence. He had found hope. But that was all for bus twenty. The bearded man sat down again. As the bus approached her stop, Abi got up. She took a toonie out of her pocket and gave it to the bearded man. "Why, thank you, miss," he said, smiling through his broken teeth. 'That's really kind of you.' 'Abi nodded and stoodlater. Right now they lay there in the moonlight. It was hard to describe the look they had on their faces as they listened to the silence. Perhaps you would call it relief. Yeah, that was it, relief. It was the look you have when you find something precious you thought you'd lost, the look you have when someone you've been waiting for the automatic doors to open. "Take my advice, darlin',' continued the man. 'Leave him. He just ain't your type. Ain't your typeshows up at all..." Abi turned and looked at the man, She stepped from the bus onto the sidewalk, and her face broke into a smile. As she walked the rwo hundred meters to the apartment, Abi thought about Ray and reflected that the end is not always a big event. It can be slow and insistent, like waves ona rock. Until one day the rock is no longer there. 'Well, she thought, at least Kit would be pleased. Not too much drama. Certainly no dead bodies. Just fifteen hundred words, Exactly.last, the look you have when, after along search, you find cool, sweet water in the desert.
CHATBOT: The story revolves around a man stranded in the New Mexico desert who hitches a ride with a female truck driver headed to Denver. The vibrant imagery of the desert sets the backdrop for their journey. Initially skeptical, the woman stops and allows him to help fix her truck's brakes. During the trip, they share personal stories, forming a bond over their shared experiences of escape and seeking freedom. The man, initially unnamed, reveals his past indirectly when a radio report about an escapee from Santa Fe prison names him as Jed King. Lee, the truck driver, reveals her past struggles with an abusive husband, Tony Garcia, whose death allowed her freedom. It turns out Jed is the man who killed Tony, making their meeting serendipitous. As they share their stories, they find solace and understanding in each other's company. Despite Jed's past and his escape from prison, they foster a connection that hints at hope and perhaps a chance at love, a reprieve from their haunting pasts. The desert journey becomes a metaphor for their internal journeys from despair to a hopeful rebirth, symbolized by their ability to find relief and a tentative promise of redemption in each other's company.
CHATBOT: This story is about a man stranded in the desert who gets a ride from a female truck driver going to Denver. They quickly connect by sharing their tough pasts. The man, who was escaping from prison after being convicted for self-defense, didn't initially reveal his identity. But as they talk, it turns out the driver, Lee, is the widow of the man the hitchhiker was convicted of killing. Despite this, they find comfort and understanding in each other. They both feel relieved as they share more about their lives, finding peace and a sense of hope together. The desert trip symbolizes their emotional journey from hardship to finding a new start.
USER: tell me theProanalizui tekst i zrobi short summary ofin English: Text - The knowledge "Taxi!" Tt was a cold dark night in central London. The rain was falling heavily. The black cab stopped just in front of the man in the hat and the black overcoat, splashing water everywhere. The driver leaned out of the window. "Where're you going, mate? Chinatown? OK, get ins it'll be about ten pounds. Ir'll take about twenty, twenty-five minutes. There's a lot of traffic because of the rain. Terrible weather isn't it? It seems to have been raining for days. 'Well, ics been a bad year for weather altogether. Dreadful! 'Typical English weather, ch? Still, at least it's good for the farmers, Ha! Chinatown eh? You know, its a funny thing, but this story: The desert was dark pink, the sky was baby blue; the wholeall reminds me of a Chinese bloke I picked up from here going to Chinatown, Must have been November, about this time last year. It was raining then too, absolutely pouring down. He was a strange guy; it's a strange story -- the strangest thing looked good cnough to cat. The road from Santa Pe made its waythar's happened to me in all my years in aab... To tell you the truth, I really just wanted to go home. You know how it is. It was about half past ten on a Tuesday evening and I was going to call ita day. As I said, it was like a black snake through the red and pink landscape. Through the hot air the tall manthis -- cold, wet and miserable. 'd been working hard for months and I felt like I wanted to go home carly for a change and see Marlene -- that was my girlfriend. But then I saw him, the Chinese bloke, I mean. He was in his early thirties, I suppose. Thin, kind of hungry- looking. He was standing at the side of the road could see the sharp mountain peaks of the Rockies in the distance. 'At last a truck came. The first thing he heard was the distant sound of an engine. Sweetest sound in the whole world when you've been out in the desert sun for wo hours and you're beginning to think you might die there. Real sweet. He blinked at the road and looked ahead, listening. Yeah, it was a truck alright. He ran up through the bushes at the side of the road and stood right there staring into the distance, so that he could see the truck as soon it came into view, Then he saw it, a bright piece of silver, with sunlight bouncing off it in all directions. A great silver insect crawling across the stillness of the desert floor of New Mexico. As the truck got nearer he tried to make out the driver. Looked like a woman. A woman with dark red hair and sunglasses, those kind of shades that the sun bounces off too. Well, that was that, he thought. No way was a woman alone going to stop for a guy hitchhiking in the middle of nowhere. He turned away. The truckthere, on George Street, where you were just rolled on,now, and dripping wer just like he knewyou, That's why I say it would.reminds me, Well, I thought to myself, "I'll just pick this bloke up, then T'll go home." So I leaned my head out of the cab window and into the rain, "Where are you going, mate?" "Chinatown" said the bloke, and he told me the name of the street. It was Gerrard Street. Well, itd only take me 'wenty, twenty-five minutes to get there, I thought. I could be home by eleven o'clock. That's early for me. took a really good look at him before he got in. He was wearing an old leather jacket and blue jeans. Not really dressed for the rain, you know. And he was carrying a parcel under his arm, wrapped in brown paper. He seemed in a bit of a hurry, but that wasn't surprising. Probably just wanted to get out of the rain, like everybody else. He looked OK; at least he wasn't drunk, so I said, "Fine, get in, To be honest, I'm really careful about who I let in the back of my cab these days, especially when it's late at night. Have a good look at 'em, you know? Terrible things happen to taxi drivers. A friend of mine got hit over the head with a bottle. Ended up in hospital, poor devil. He picked up a bloke late one Saturday night outside a club in the West End. The bloke was drunk of course, I mean really drunk. Anyway, when they got wherever they were going, the bloke refused to pay his fare. When my friend said he would call the police, the drunk just took an empty bottle out of his pocket and hit him over the head. My friend had to spend the night in hospital, But then he heard the sound of brakeshe was lucky! There are stories of taxi drivers being knifed, even shot. I tell you, mate, London is getting worse every day. 'Anyway, back to this Chinese bloke. Well, he shook himself as the truck came to a stop about two hundred meters further on. He turned around again and looked at the clouds of dust the truck had thrown up. After a minute or so the dust settled, the door of the driver'she got in the back of the cab swung open and a pair of blue jeans came down from the cab, The woman appeared, wearing a white 'cowgirl' shirt and western boots to go with the jeans. She still had her sunglasses on. The man wondered whether her eyes were green. He always did like green eyes. He walked slowly towards the truck. 'Can I help you, ma'am?' he asked, trying to see her eyes behind the shades. Sheand said, "Phew! Ie's wet out there." I laughed and looked at him long and hard,in my mirror. He had straight black hair and it was stuck to his forehead like she was trying to work out if he was dangerous. The man did his best to look harmless. "Yeah, wellhe'd been swimming. He looked kind of funny, you know. "Live in Chinatown do you?" I asked, like you do. Just to make conversation really. He didn't say anything for a few minutes. As a matter of fact I thought he hadn't understood me, but then suddenly he said, "Have you heard of Bruce Lee?" "Of course I have!" I said. "Everybody's heard of Bruce Lee! He's really, really famous, I mean he was. And a fantastic fighter." 'Well, Bruce Lee's the most famous martial artist of all time, isn't he? Kung fu and all thar. I've got all the Bruce Lee films at home, bought them when I was a bit younger. To tell you the truth, I still watch them sometimes. Yeah, I sit down with a beer and watch my old kung fu films. "Enter the Dragon's my favourite," I said to the Chinese bloke. "Great film." "Thank you," he said. I laughed. It was a funny thing to say, you know, so I asked him, "What . . . looksdid you direct it or something?" "No," he said, "but I am Bruce Lee." I had to laugh. "Oh yeah," I said, "and I'm Marilyn Monroe!" "No, really, Iam. I'm Bruce Lee," he said again. Now it's a funny kind of job being a taxi driver, you know? I've often thought that it's a bit like having an affair, like a holiday romance. I mean, you meet someone for a short time, and she can tell you anything and you can tell her anything. Know what I mean, mate? You're probably never going to see her again, so. . . Ha! Well, ics the same in the cab. I've heard some really wild stories, believe me. Like I picked up this guy who told me he'd just heen hired to murder the head of the United Nations. Told me he was carrying a gun in his pocket. He frightened me to death, I can tell you. Then there was the woman who told me she was the Queen and she never carried money. So Bruce Lee was strange, but not that strange, if, you know what I mean. "Oh, Bruce Lee," I said, trying to sound normal, you know. "Er. . . Ithought he was dead." The man laughed. "Well, he isn't." I took another look at the bloke in my brakes froze up,' shemirror. Funny thing was, he did look a bit like Bruce Lee. Good-looking sort of man with really dark eyes. "Yes, its me," he said, smiling. Funny thing was, when he said that, I almost believed him. Though you know and I know that Bruce Lee died years ago. Right, mate? "Oh, so you've been training, then?" I asked him. Best thing was to go along with him, you know. We were still about twenty minutes away from Chinatown. For all I knew, he was totally crazy and had a gun in his pocket. That's the kind of thing you have to think of when you've got someone in the back of your cab. "Yes," he said, "perfecting my one-inch punch." Now, I remembered seeing a documentary about Bruce Lee a few years ago. Do you know that he could knock a man to the floor with a punch he gave from only one inch away? That's just two and a half centimeters, He was incredible, that guy. Strong as anything. "Oh, how's it going?" I asked him. You know, playing the game. "Oh really well," he said. ". . a rock must have cut the brake pipe.' She paused, and must have decided that he seemed OK because she"Want to see it?" "Well Tower "Stop the taxi," he said, "You"{ don't really think..." Now, first rule of a taxi driver is: don't leave your cab. You just don't do it. I mean, anybody could steal it, you know? "Come on," he said, "over there, there aren't any good with tape?" "Youpeople." To this day I really don't know why I did it, but I pulled the taxi to the side of the road. I turned the engine off and put the key in my pocket; you can never be too careful. We both got any?"he asked. "There's some in the back of the cab,' she said. 'Il get it.' She got back into the cab and came back a few minutes later with the tape. He took it and crawled under the truck. "How's it going?' she shouted after a few minutes. 'Hot as hell!' he shouted back. About ten minutes later he found the place where the air line had been cut. 'Here it is!" he shouted. 'A big fat hole the size of Texas," He set to work taping it, and crawled back out some time later, hot and dirty.out. The womanrain was still standing there in the fall heat of the sun. "That should do it,' the man said to her. "How far you gonna go?" 'Denver,' she said, moving towards the cab. "Denver? Me too. But I guess... ." Shepouring down. I looked at him; he was a thin guy, not very big, kind of light. And, well .. . you can see. I'm a big tall guy, well buile. I spend time in the gym, like to keep myself fit. Well, you have to, don't you? In fact I used to be on the door at a London nightclub, a bouncer. Yeah, I've done a bit of fighting myself, though not these days. "Well," I thought, "if he tries to steal my taxi, I'll be able to knock him again, up and down. 'Get in,' sheto the ground, flatten him," I wasn't worried, you know. 'Then a funny thing happened. He said slowly. 'You look pretty harmless to me and I guess I owe you something.' 'Hey,' he said, 'thanks. Yeah,' she said. They both got into the driver's cab. Even with the air conditioning off,"Wait!" and he bent down and took his shoes and socks off! Can you imagine that, in the rain? I mean, it was cool, at least a hell of a lot cooler than outside. 'Have some water' she said, 'What yajust like tonight, absolutely pouring down, And the funny thing was, I remembered seeing Bruce Lee doing out here anyway?that in his films, He always used to take his shoes and socks off and put them neatly to one side, like he was going to bed or something. "What are you doing? You crazy?" She passed him a water bottle and he drank. The water was sweet and cool.I asked him. "Just something I do. Watch this," he said, pointing at a dustbin on the pavement just in front of us. He drank thirstly, lettingstood in his bare feet and put his right fist just in front of the dustbin. Then he punched it run down the sides of his mouth and onto his neck.Well, the next thing I knew the dustbin flew across the street. It was like it had wings, I tell you. Rubbish was flying everywhere! He looked at me, grinning. "Now just imagine if it was your solar plexus," he said. "Your stomach," he said, like he had to explain to me what a solar plexus was. T looked at the dusthin lying over the other side of the street. "Well," I thought, "just because he can do that doesn't mean he's Bruce Lee." "Would you like me to teach you?" he asked. "Another time maybe," I said. I really wanted to get home to Marlene, and though the punch might be useful in my work, if you know what I mean, I didn't answer her. "So? she asked again. "Well, it's a long story. . ." he said. She pushed up her glasses to take a proper look and flashed a smile at him. She had the whitest teeth he'd ever seen, And she did have the prettiest green eyes. 'Yeah, well save it for laters it's going tothink that now was the moment to learn. Anyway, I was really wet, I mean soaked to the skin. "Ie would be a long trip,' shemy pleasure," he said, still smiling. Then, suddenly, just like that, whoosh! He did a fantastic, really high side-kick at a signpost. It was so fast you could hardly see it. The post fell over and crashed to the ground. Bang! "Very useful," said 'Bruce', grinning again. "You like it" "Oh... very nice," I said. "Er... shall we get off then?" I was a bit nervous by this time, you know, looking around to see if anyone had seen what he'd done. Like the police, for example. Itd be just my luck to have them watching us. Luckily there wasn't anybody around. 'Bruce' put his socks and shoes back on and we got back in the cab. "Why aren't you in Hong Kong, then?" I asked him when we were driving towards Chinatown again. It was a stupid question, T know, but like T say T was kind of nervous. I mean, it's not every day you get a bloke who tells you that he's Bruce Lee in the back of your taxi. And it's not every day he shows you his one-inch punch. "Well, you know," he said, "I really want to teach my art to the West, so that you can understand my culture." I looked through the mirror at his face. I thought he must be joking, but he looked quite serious. Now, the thing is, I know a thing or two about fighting. I mean, I grew up in the East End of London and I used to box as a kid; Yeah, I was a boxer. Then later I was a bouncer, like I said. I mean, before I learnt 'the knowledge' and became a taxi driver. The knowledge. Do you know what that is? Well, you have to learn the London streets so that you know them like the back of your hand and it's called the knowledge. Every taxi driver in London has it. Its part of the job -- well, it is the job. Once you've got the knowledge you're a real London cab driver! Anyway, on the subject of fighting, I've seen some action and I've seen some pretty good fighters. But this guy, this "Bruce Lee' was seriously good, far better than the others. I mean, you don't see that kind of speed every day. So I was kind of confused, if you know what I mean. How could he be Bruce Lee? Everybody knew that Bruce Lee was dead. But how could he be that good and nor be Bruce Lee? "So, do you think you could teach me?" I asked him. To tell you the truth, it kind of surprised me that I said it; it just came out of my mouth. "[am sure I could, but are you ready to learn?" he asked. "Tm not sure what you mean." "If you were ready to learn, I mean really ready, you wouldn't even feel the rain," said 'Bruce.' I didn't say anything. I supposed he was right. "And then there is all that boxing stuff," he said. "Ics no use to you. In fact, it gets in the way." Now, how did he know that I'd been a boxer? Tell me that. I hadn't said anything to him about me being a boxer. "Like the Zen masrer said," he went on, "in order to learn you must empty your cup. In other words you must unlearn everything you know so far." "Well, I really want to try," I said. I mean, it's not every day you meet this kind of person, Bruce Lee or not. He had me kind of interested. "When can we start?" "Hal" he said. "You think it is that easy. You are thinking that if this thin little Chinese man can do it, then so can I, because I am big and strong!" Well, he was right, of course. I was thinking that. "You think that fighting is about aggression," he said. "You don't realise that it's about being strong enough to walk away." I didn't say anything. He was right though; I supposed I did think thae fighting was about being aggressive. "Are you surprised that I can see what is in your heart?" he asked me. "Well, I..." "Yes, you must empty your cup," he said again, "and unlearn everything," "Well," I thought, "easy enough to say, but how do you do that? How do you unleart everything?" "Do not try to find me," he went on. "Remember that in Zen they say that when you seek, you will not find. I will find you." "What do you. . .?" "Shih," he said, and put his fingers to his lips. Well, by now wed arrived in Chinatown, and he paid me and jumped out of the taxi, quick as a flash, We were outside a restaurant on Gerrard Street. It was one of those typical Chinatown places, with thar she put her glasses down and started the engine up again. The truck continued its journey through the high fat desert that makes up most of I-25, the main highway from New Mexico to Colorado. As she drove, the manred lights everywhere. I looked at her hands on the wheel. Small, strong hands. He couldn't stop looking at the New Mexican turquoise ring she was wearing. The colour was so beautiful. Kind of held your attention, After a while the ring and the endlessness of the desert made him feel light-headed. Perhaps he'd been out in the sun for too long. "You got anything to eat in here?" he asked her. 'All that work made me kinda hungry. 'Sure.' She smiled at him, a flash of green eyes. 'Have a look in the cooler.' He opened it, found a piece of bread and some cheese and ate hungrily. They rode along in silence for a while. He stared out of the window at the desert. "You got a name?" she asked suddenly. 'Sure, my name's Ted,' he said. 'How about you?" 'Lee,' she said. "That's a pretty name,' he said. 'Pleased to meet you." 'There was another half-hour of silence as the truck made its way across the desert floor. 'T can't help but notice that you ain't got any luggage Ted,' she said suddenly. 'That's right,' he said. 'I left it in Denver with some friends. I'm gonna pick it up when I get there, 'Have you been driving trucks long?' he asked. 'Yeah, well, a couple of years,' she said. 'Like it?" 'Ie's a living.' She smiled that smile again and added, 'I love the scenery.' She nodded towards the window. As the man followed her glance out into the bright sunlight herain as he ran towards the restaurant. And then comes the strangest part of this whole story. This is the bit where you're going to think I'm telling you lies. He just disappeared. I mean vanished! First he was there and then he was gone. I saw a sign coming towards themhim outside the restaurant and then, whoof! He disappeared. Difficult to believe eh? But it's true, sure as my name is <PRESIDIO_ANONYMIZED_PERSON>. 'Well, I rubbed my eyes a bit. At first I thought he must have gone into the restaurant so I went in to have a look for him. Inside there were a few people having dinner, you know, people who'd been to the theatre or whatever. I looked around the tables. Then I asked the waiters and even the manager. I described him, but no, they hadn't seen him. They didn't know who I was talking about. So I left the restaurant and drove home. What else could I do? On the way I thought about everything: the punch, the kick, what he said about the cup and my heart, telling me not to look for him and then the way he disappeared like that. It all went through my mind. To tell you the truth, when I really thought about it, I felt that maybe I'd just been working too hard, you know. Perhaps I'd imagined it all. I mean it was all so strange. Except that how could I have imagined it all? Anyway, I just wanted to go home to see Marlene. I didn't even phone her on the mobile -- thought I'd give her a surprise, Come to think of it, that was strange in itself. never went home without ringing her first. I got home and stopped the cab outside my third-floor flat in Maxwell Gardens. I looked up at the side of the road. 'Do not pick up hitchhikers,' said the sign. He glanced at her. If she had seen it she wasn't going to say anything. That was just fine by him, he thought. "Yeah, it is pretty,' he said. He closed his eyes. Very soon he fell asleep. He woke up to the truck coming to a stop outside a gas station. The noise of the brakes and the sudden movement made him jump. 'Hey,' said Lee, laughing. 'Coming back to life, eh?" He rubbed his eyes and looked around. The sun had lost some of its fierceness, He guessed it was around five. There were two other trucks parked at the gas station and in the diner next to it hewindow and I could see the drivers drinking coffee and cating hamburgers. "Pm justfrom the light that Marlene was watching television. Probably one of those old Hollywood films that she liked so much, I thought. I suddenly fele really happy that I was going to freshen up,' she said Shesee her, you know, after all that. I wished that I'd picked up her wash bag,some flowers for her, or some chocolates. Te was still raining hard and I wanted to get in fast, but even so I checked all the doors on the taxi, like I always do. Where I live is full of car thieves and I didn't want them to have a good night. This cab's my pride and joy, you know, and my way of making a living, so it's important to me, I checked the back doors and then I noticed something on the floor of the cab, like a dark shape. I opened the door again and felt the shape. It was the Chinese guy's parcel! The one he was carrying when he got into my cab. "Well," I thought, "I'm not going to do anything about it tonight. I may as well take it inside and sort it out tomorrow." I took hold of the brown paper parcel and ran inside. I got into the lift and had a look at the package in the light. It was soft, as if it was full of clothes, and there was no name or address on it. I had no idea how I was going to get it back to 'Bruce', especially since hed disappeared off the face of the earth, Still, I don't mind telling you that I felt somehow happy that I had it. It meant that there was at least a chance that he might try and contact me to get his parcel back. T went off to the drivers' rest room and came back a few minutes later. She'd combed her hair and looked really nice. 'You gonna get something to drink, Ted?' she asked. 'Ah no,' he said. 'P'm fine. I'll wait for you.' 'TI just pick up a cola and a burger, she said. 'Sure you don't want anything?" "Well ... that sounds good,' he said, changing his mind. She came back a few minutes later with the drinks and burgers. Then she parked the truck round the back of the diner and they settled down to eat. The desert air was still hot and the ice-cold cola tasted great. 'So what did you do before you started driving trucks?" he asked her, between mouthfuls of burger. "Ob, this and that,' she said. 'I worked as a ski instructor up in Aspen for a couple of years. 'Hey!' he said, 'that must have been a great job. Did you meet lots of famous people?" She laughed. 'Well yeah,' she said, 'lots .. . and it was a great job." "So why did you stop?' he asked. 'Thad an accident,' she said, shaking her head. 'One day was skiing downhill, really fast. The snow was great, the sun was wonderful. Everything was just fine, then bang! I fell and the next thing I knew I was in hospital.' 'Ie sounds bad,' he said. "Well, could have been worse,' she continued. 'I ended up with just a broken leg and some bruised ribs but it took a few months to recover. When I was well, I decided that it was time for a change, time to do something new. You know what I mean?" "Well, yeah, sometimes you just have to make changes,' he said, hardly knowing what he meant. There was something about this woman that made you want to talk to her, tell her about the secret places in your mind. "Wow! Look at that!' she said suddenly, pointing towards the mountains in the distance. The huge sky had turned orange with the light from the dying sun; it looked like someone had lit a huge fire behind the mountains. Nature was giving them the full display and it was beautiful. "That's what I mean,' she said. 'The scenery's just to die for. Worth more than all the money in the world.' They finished their colas and left, heading out towards the state border between New Mexico and Colorado. "Truth is,' she started almostupstairs. "Ricky!" Marlene shouted as soon as they started off again, 'I was tryingT put the key in the front door. But she didn't sound very happy; it was like she was upset that I was home early. I walked down the hall and opened the door of the living room. Then I got the shock of my life, I tell you. I went in and she was there, in my living room, with another man! He was a thin, blond-haired guy. As soon as he saw me he jumped up from the sofa and tried to get away from a guy. I mean... that's why I got out of Aspen." 'Oh really?" "Yeah,'the door. Marlene jumped up too. "Ricky, you're early," she said, laughing nervously. 'Well, he was my husband in fact. I'd been trying for years to get away from him, But I couldn't ... Then I had this accident and I thought it was a good chance to disappear.' There was a pause. 'You don't mind me telling you all this, do you, Ted?" 'No, I don't,' he replied kindly. 'No way. But tell me, how did you get mixed up with him in the first place"and you didn't phone. . . . if you don't mind me asking." She looked at him and sighed. 'Well ... 1 met him when I was eighteen. He was twenty-one. That was back in my home town, Pueblo, Colorado, God, what a place that is! Ever been there?' He shook his head. 'Lucky you!' she." "Well, I can see that you weren't expecting me," I said. 'Home of the living dead, I swear. Ie' the kind of place you have to escape from. Anyway, he was the best-looking guy in Pueblo, though that's not saying much.' She laughed. 'No, he was really cute, really nice. We got married when I was nineteen.' "That sure is young," he said. 'I guess I didn't know any better,' she carried on. 'And anything was better than living at home, let meI was mad, I can tell you. 'Anyway, it was the sameThe man was standing in front of me and I really felt like punching him. He was a thin little man, not much meat on him, if you know what I mean, and I could have really hurt him. Tell you the truth, I felt like killing him! And that's what the old story. Before we got married he was the sweetest guy in the world, Brought me flowers, presents. Treated me nice, you know. Id never met a man who could be that nice. But then things changed.' "Changed?" "Yeah, well he changed practically overnight,' she said. 'Soon after we got married he started drinking a lot, going out with his friends. He never took me out any more.' 'And? "Well, I would do something small, something kinda insignificant like making too much noise, but it would be enough to make him get violent,' she said. 'You know, it was like an excuse..." "He hit you?' he asked. 'He did, and I got the scars to prove it!" she replied. "When he drank he just couldn't control himself. And he drank a lot. A real whiskey drinker, Then he started gambling and going with other women.' 'And that was as soon as you got married?" he asked. "Yeah, and it got worse,' she answered. 'My friends told me he had other women, but I knew that -- it was obvious. 'There were nights when he just didn't come home. When he finally turned up in the morning you could smell the whiskey and the women on him.' ee a "Why did he want to stay with me? She asked the question for him. 'He just couldn't live without me. Oh, he had his women, but he always came back. He needed someone to push around, to make him feel like a man." She shook her head. 'I used to pray that he'd drop dead or find someone else and stay away from me. I swear I had seven years of hell!" 'Seven years?" he said, shocked. 'You put up with that for seven years?" "Oh, it's not like I didn't try to get out,' she said. 'Almost every single day,have done, believe me. But something strange happened that night. Suddenly, I fel calm all over. I didn't feel like punching him any more. I heard the Chinese guy's voice in my head. "You think that fighting is about aggression. You don't realise that it's about being strong enough to walk away." Suddenly I could see everything. I could see that this wasn't the first time. I could see that Marlene wasn't faithful co me and that she never had been. I could see that she didn't love me. It came to me, you know. It just suddenly hit me. It was like, what do they call it? A revelation, mate, that's it. So that was the first thing that changed. Once I knew that Marlene didn't love me, I didn't want her any more. It was living a lie and I knew immediately that I couldn't do that, So, next day she left, and I haven't seen her since. "I'm looking for the right one," I said to myself, "and I'm nor interested in second best." So, anyway, with all the upset, I totally forgot about the parcel Id found in the back of the cab. But the next day, once Marlene had gone, I remembered. I didn't know what to do with it and I was really curious about what was inside. I tore open the brown paper wrapping and found 2 pair of blue pyjamas, made of silk. I held them up to have a good look. I just stood there, staring. The top was a Chinese-style jacket with a stand-up collar. The bottoms were just silk trousers. They were both deep, midnight blue, and really lovely. They looked incredible in my living room, It sounds funny, but it was like there was suddenly a lot of light, if you know what I mean. Like a ray of sunshine. I knew that I had to keep them. Then, I know it sounds funny, mate, but it was like that ray of sunshine started to have an effect on me, on my life. I don't know what it was, but something began that night. Getting rid of Marlene was just the start of it all. Ie was like the truth started to come out. Things started to change in me. A few days later I thought, "What am I doing with my life? Do I just want to be a taxi driver forever?" I mean, it's all right, but there's more to life than driving a cab. There's more knowledge than knowledge of the streets of London, if you know what I mean. I started to think about college, you know. I left school when I was sixteen, but there's no reason I can't go back. So now I go to college one day a week, getting some qualifications you know, tying to improve myself, And then I'll stop being in jail. No matter how sweet the grass smells outside your cell, you just cant get free.' 'Er. . . yeah,' he said. 'I tried everything,' she continued. 'Left in the middle of the night, changed states, changeda cab driver, I want to start my name. Somehow he always found me! That's why I decided to leave Aspen after the accident. I knew that it wasown business. I mean, you've only a matter of time before he found me again.' She shivered, remembering the fear. Lee stopped talking for a moment as she struggled with her feelings. They both listened to the silence of the desert, only broken by the comforting noise of the engine. Then she spoke again,got one life, haven't you, mate? And T know this time in a softer voice. 'Td loved him, you know, I mean in the beginning,' she said. 'Yeah, loved him. But thensounds weird, but Pm sure it all changedhas something to do with those pyjamas. I mean that's when it all started. I couldn't help wondering about them. I mean, they looked kind of familiar to me. I was sure I'd seen them before. So about a week after I'd come home with the parcel, I got myself a beer and got our all my old Bruce Lee videos. The Chinese Connection, Enter the Dragon ... Return of the Dragon, all of them. I sat there watching them for me. Ihours. Finally I found what I was looking for. Return of the Dragon, it was. There he was, Bruce Lee, wearing blue pyjamas, just like the ones in my wardrobe! T got down on the floor next to the television screen to take a closer look at the blue silk pyjamas. I put the video on pause and stared at them. Yeah, there was no doube about it; they were 'my' blue pyjamas. Well, they weren't really pyjamas, you know. It was a suit, his kung fu suit. But they looked exactly like the blue pyjamas in my bedroom. They were the blue pyjamas in my bedroom! Yeah, things started to hate him.' Then she added seriously, 'Matter of fact,changing in me, no doubt about it. Over the months there were lots of things. I'm training to run my own business, like I said. I stopped smoking and drinking too much, you know. I started going to the gym again, went jogging and lost a bit of weight. Just looking after. my body. Different things started to become important, you know. Somehow I started to respect myself. So that's the worse thingit really. Ir's a mystery to me, a complete mystery, mate, Its a year ago now and I still think about it all. You learnevery day. But the thing is, I take care of those blue pyjamas, I mean they're hanging up in the wardrobe, nice and tidy and clean. So that if this guy, this 'Bruce Lee' came back for them they'd be just the same as they were when he left them. I know it's kind of stupid, but he'd know that I'd looked after them. And I think about hate; you discover that you can hate somebody that much. 'You lose your innocence, you know?" He nodded. He knew what she meant. 'Twas a kid when I met him,' she continued.he said about not looking for him, about him finding me. And funny thing is, I feel like I'm kind of waiting. Waiting and getting ready. Yeah, it's a funny old world, There you are, mate. Chinatown. That'll be ten pounds." 'Pm here Ricky,' said a voice from the hack of the cab. The taxi driver turned around and looked into the blackness in the back of the cab. But he couldn't see anyone. 'I was so full of dreams, I thought the world was full of love. That I was full of love... He taught me a lesson alright, taught me how to hate, just like everyone else.' She took a deep breath, 'It takes time to get over that,' she said. 'It takes time to find love again. Even to find it in your own heart.' She sighed and went quiet. Her face looked kind of sad. 'So what happened?" he asked after a few minutes. 'I mean, where is he now?" "Hal' shethink you've started," said loudly. 'He finally gor it! Finally got what he deserved! Got killed in a bar one night in Taos.' 'In Taos?" "Yeah, got into a fight with some guy,' she answered. 'Over a woman, of course. Anyway, the guy shot him, cool as you like. The police called in the middle of the night to tell me the bad news. I swear, Ted, I could hardly keep the smile off my face. First thought that came into my head was, "I'm free! I've been in jail and now I'm free!" I just went away and tried to forget.' She smiled now, remembering it all. 'Don't know why I'm telling you all this,' she added. There was silence for a while, apart from the soft murmur of the engine. They were about an hour from the border with Colorado. It was evening now; the softening light wrapped around them like a blanket. 'After about twenty minutes, she said, 'Let's get over Raton Pass and into Colorado, then we can catch some sleep." 'Great idea,' he said. They were still another seven hours or so from Denver. 'Mind if I turn on the radio" she asked. 'Er. . . no,' he said, 'how about a music channel?" 'Sure,' she said and turned it on. It was Anita Baker singing 'Giving you the best that I've got. The man closed his eyes and listened to her sweetthe voice. It was like honey pouring into the truck. Lee started singing along to the radio. 'Mmm . . . pretty voice,' he said. Lee didn't say anything, but carried'Bruce Lee's' voice, he was sure. The cab driver rubbed his eyes, bur still there was no one there. 'You're on singing. The song ended. Then a man's voice came over the radio: 'And now its eight thirty and on Radio New Mexico we have some news for you, so let's go over to the newsroom and Chucho Martinez." The man cleared his throat. 'Es, why don't we change channel and get some more music?" he said. 'Shh,' said Lee. 'In a minute, Let me hear the news." He kept his eyes closed. 'Good evening, and the news tonight is that a man has escaped from the New Mexico State Prison just outside Santa Fe. The man is Jed King, doing life for killing ewenty-eight-year-old Tony Garcia in a bar fight in Taos, New Mexico, four years ago. Drivers are being warned by the state police tonight not to pick up hitchhikers. And that's particularly if you're driving on 1-25. And now on to other news . He stil kept his eyes firmly closed. "Well," said Lee suddenly, turning off the radio, 'we're almost there. There's Raton Pass just ahead of us." 'The man opened his eyes a little and looked up towards the pass. It was the time just before darkness falls; in another fifteen or twenty minutes the light would be completely gone. Right now the sky was an incredible red and purple, the day's last light show. The truck started to climb towards the top of the pass. He closed his eyes again. They drove along in silence as they reached the top and started down the other side of the pass. He kept his eyes shut like he was asleep, but his mind was racing. He thought back to that night in Taos, The night he killed Tony Garcia. "You're him, aren't you?" 'The man jumped. "You're Jed King, the man who killed Tony. . . the man who killed my husband,' she said. Her voice was low. "You've escaped from jail." He opened his eyes a little and nodded. 'Tnever went to the trial,' she said, "Tell you the truth, I never thought about who killed him. I was just happy he 'was gone." He looked across at her, She looked calm, kind of peaceful somehow. They had reached the other side of the pass and had already crossed the state border some time back. Lee turned the wheel and pulled the truck off the road. They were surrounded by darkness, parked in a rest area well away from the lights of the highway. She turned to look at him and he could just make out her face, her bright green eyes shining. Like cat's eyes on a dark road. "That's right,' he said. 'I killed him. But I swear it was self-defence. I didn't mean to. . ." 'As he said it, unbelievably, he started to cry. He hadn't cried for a long time, maybe since he was a kid. 'I didn't mean to... I didn't mean to ...' He was actually 'weeping, great sobs coming from his chest. Te was like some kind of wall breaking. Suddenly Jed King felt the full force of the injustice of it all, a feeling he hadn't allowed himself to have before. He remembered the trial, with the jury who didn't believe his story, and the 'witnesses', Garcia's friends, who had lied in court. He remembered the moment when the judge had said the words, 'You will go to jail for life.' He cried for the four years he had been locked up in the hell of the state penitentiary because he had killed a man who otherwise would have killed him. He cried at the feeling that he would never again be really free, never be able to listen to the silence of the desert or see the sun set over the mountains without being afraid. 'Ie wasn't my fault, believe me. You have to believe me!" he said. 'I never wanted nd She leaned over towards him and put her finger on his lips. 'Shhh,' she said, running her fingers around his mouth. 'I know, I know,' she said, softly. 'It sounds like we both escaped from a life sentence.' Then she kissed him. They lay on the little bed just behind the cab and looked at the night sky through the little window in the roof. It was dark blue with a pattern of stars, like something from a child's storybook. The desert moon was so big you could see its dark and light areas. It was very cold now, in thatthe way the desert has of suddenly showing you that it knows how to do both. Ie takes time, she had said, to find love again, even to find it in your own heart. As they lay there in the stillness of the desert, he knew that they had both found a way back to love, a way back from despair. Somehow he knew that it would all come right. He would be able to prove that he had shot Garcia in self-defence. He had found hope. But that was all for later. Right now they lay there in the moonlight. It was hard to describe the look they had on their faces as they listened to the silence. Perhaps you would call it relief. Yeah, that was it, relief. It was the look you have when you find something precious you thought you'd lost, the look you have when someone you've been waiting for shows up at last, the look you have when, after along search, you find cool, sweet water in the desert.to the knowledge.'
CHATBOT: **Summary** A London taxi driver recounts a peculiar and transformative night when he picked up a passenger who claimed to be Bruce Lee. It was a rainy night in central London and the driver, intending to head home early, picks up a Chinese man heading to Chinatown, wearing a leather jacket and carrying a parcel. The man intriguingly claims he is Bruce Lee and demonstrates extraordinary martial arts skills, including a powerful one-inch punch and the ability to knock down a signpost with a side kick. After showing the driver these skills, the passenger vanishes outside a restaurant in Chinatown, leaving behind a parcel containing blue silk pyjamas similar to those worn by Bruce Lee in his movies. The encounter prompts the taxi driver to reflect on his life and make significant changes, such as returning to school, quitting smoking, and starting a business. The story concludes with the taxi driver still pondering the mysterious encounter, keeping the pyjamas well-preserved for the day 'Bruce Lee' might return for them, and hearing Lee's voice again in his cab, suggesting he has begun a journey towards greater understanding or "the knowledge."
CHATBOT: A London taxi driver meets a passenger who claims he's Bruce Lee on a rainy night. The passenger, dressed in jeans and carrying a parcel, shows off martial arts skills that amaze the driver. After the passenger mysteriously vanishes in Chinatown, the driver finds the man's parcel, which contains blue silk pyjamas resembling those Bruce Lee wore in his films. This strange encounter inspires the driver to change his life for the better, including going back to school and living healthier. The story ends with the driver still pondering the surreal experience and hearing 'Bruce Lee's' voice again, indicating he's on the right path to learning something important.
USER: Proanalizui tekst i zrobiMake a short summary in English: Text -about this text and some conclusions: Love is a dangerous emotion, let me tell you. And it always happens when you're least expecting it. It creeps up on you and jumps on you out of the blue, It grabs you by the throat, shakes you and says, 'I'm here! You'd better take notice of me!" I mean, think about it. One minute you're going along very nicely, thank you. You get up every morning for work and you come home every evening, You make dinner. You watch your favourite TV program on Tuesdays and 'Thursdays. You go out, you come in, You have a drink on Friday nights. The knowledge "Taxi!" Tt was a cold dark night in central London. The rain was falling heavily. The black cab stopped justhighlight of your week is lunch out on Sundays. Thav's life as you know it. At least you think you're alive, but then real life comes along and does a little dance in front of theyou and you realize that you've been half dead. 'Thar's the way it was when I met Ria. One minute I was just going along like this, bored but kind of OK. Well at lease I was healthy. Next thing I knew Twas out late at night, freezing to death, doing all kinds of strange things. And it seemed to me that I just had to do them; somehow I didn't have any choice. Now I don't know about you, but there's a certain pattern to my falling in love. First of all, it always happens in winter, so it's freezing cold, October, November and December are the usual months, and they're cold in Holland, really cold. And in The Hague the wind comes off the sea and goes right through you like a knife. Not the kind of weather for hanging around on street corners or in telephone boxes, but that's always what I end up doing. One day I'm going to bed at nine thirty with a good book, the next 'm out at one o'clock in the morning, knowing that I'm going to be exhausted the next day. Exhausted, but excited. Then comes a cold, or even worse, flu. Pd like to fall in love in summer, but it never happens that way. Then there's the poetry. Suddenly I start writing poetry; it just pours out of me. And it' all deep meaningful scuff that has to be written in the early hours of the morning, usually accompanied by lots of alcohol. So the next day, on top of the cold I already have, I have a hangover from the drink. It's a miracle that my bass hasn't sacked me. 'And the worst bit is when I realise that there's probably another man in the hat and the black overcoat, splashing water everywhere. The driver leaned out of the window. "Where're you going, mate? Chinatown? OK, get ins it'll beher life. And of course he's really good- looking and has a sports car and a big bank account. So everything followed more or less the usual pattern with Ria, First came the cold and the poems. I hadn't seen the good-looking boyfriend yet, but I had the feeling that it was just a matter of time. There was something about ten pounds. Ir'll take about twenty, twenty-five minutes. There's a lot of traffic because of the rain. Terrible weather isn't it? It seems to have been raining for days. 'Well, ics been a bad year for weather altogether. Dreadful! 'Typical English weather, ch? Still, at least it's good for the farmers, Ha! Chinatown eh? You know, its a funny thing, but thisRia that was different, though. She was different from other gitls. First of all remindsthere was her job. She was a tram driver. But lec me of a Chinese bloke I picked up from here going to Chinatown, Must have been November, about this time last year. It was raining then too, absolutely pouring down. He was a strange guy; it's a strange story -- the strangest thing thar's happened to me in all my years in aab... To tell you the truth, I really just wanted to go home. You know how it is. It wasa little bie about half past ten on a Tuesday evening and I was going to call ita day. As I said, it was like this -- cold, wet and miserable. 'dmyself, because no doubt you're wondering what an English guy is doing living in Holland, in The Hague to be exact. Well, my name's Harry Brent, I'm twenty-nine and I've been working hardhere for months and I felt like I wanted to go home carly'wo years. I work for a change and see Marlene -- that was my girlfriend. But then I saw him, the Chinese bloke, I mean. He wasan international import and export company, JGD. They're based in his early thirties, I suppose. Thin,Manchester but have offices all over Europe. They sent me here to work in their Dutch office. I'll probably be here for another two or three years. Import and export. Sounds kind of hungry- looking. He was standing there, on George Street, where you were just now, and dripping wer just like you, That's why I say it reminds me,boring, eh? Well, I thought to myself, "I'll just pick this bloke up, then T'll go home." So I leaned my head out of the cab window and into the rain, "Where are you going, mate?" "Chinatown" said the bloke, and he told me the name of the street. It was Gerrard Street. Well, itd only take me 'wenty, twenty-five minutes to get there, I thought. I could be home by eleven o'clock. That's early for me. took a really good look at him before he got in. He was wearingit's OK really, and Holland is an old leather jacket and blue jeans. Not really dressed for the rain, you know. And he was carrying a parcel under his arm, wrapped in brown paper. He seemed in a bit of a hurry, but that wasn't surprising. Probably just wanted to get out of the rain, like everybody else. He looked OK; at least he wasn't drunk, so I said, "Fine, get in, To be honest, I'm really careful about who I let in the back of my cab these days, especially when it's late at night. Have a good look at 'em, you know? Terrible things happen to taxi drivers. A friend of mine got hit over the head with a bottle. Ended up in hospital, poor devil. He picked up a bloke lateinteresting country. For one Saturday night outside a club in the West End. The bloke was drunk of course, I mean really drunk. Anyway, when they got wherever they were going, the bloke refused to pay his fare. When my friend said he would call the police, the drunk just took an empty bottle out of his pocket and hit him over the head. My friend had to spend the night in hospital, But he was lucky! There are stories of taxi drivers being knifed, even shot. I tell you, mate, London is getting worse every day. 'Anyway, back to this Chinese bloke. Well, he shook himself as he got in the back of the cab and said, "Phew! Ie's wet out there." I laughed and looked at him in my mirror. He had straight black hair and it was stuck to his forehead like he'd been swimming. He looked kind of funny, you know. "Live in Chinatown do you?" I asked, like you do. Just to make conversation really. He didn't say anything for a few minutes. As a matter of fact I thought he hadn't understood me, but then suddenly he said, "Have you heard of Bruce Lee?" "Of course I have!" I said. "Everybody's heard of Bruce Lee! He's really, really famous, I mean he was. And a fantastic fighter." 'Well, Bruce Lee's the most famous martial artist of all time, isn't he? Kung fu and all thar. I've got all the Bruce Lee films at home, bought them when I was a bit younger. To tell you the truth, I still watch them sometimes. Yeah, I sit down with a beer and watch my old kung fu films. "Enter the Dragon's my favourite," I said to the Chinese bloke. "Great film." "Thank you," he said. I laughed. It was a funny thing to say, you know, so I asked him, "What . . . did you direct it or something?" "No," he said, "but I am Bruce Lee." I had to laugh. "Oh yeah," I said, "and I'm Marilyn Monroe!" "No, really, Iam. I'm Bruce Lee," he said again. Now it's a funny kind of job being a taxi driver, you know? I've often thought that it's a bit like having an affair, like a holiday romance. I mean, you meet someone for a short time, and she can tell you anything andthing, you can tell her anything. Knowmore or less do what you want here, I mean, mate? You're probably never going to see her again, so. . . Ha! Well, ics the same in the cab. I've heard some really wild stories, believe me. Like I picked up this guy who told me he'd just heen hired to murder the head of the United Nations. Told me he was carrying a gun in his pocket. He frightened me to death, I can tell you. Then there was the woman who told me she was the Queen and she never carried money. So Bruce Lee was strange, but not that strange, if, you know what I mean. "Oh, Bruce Lee," I said, trying to sound normal, you know. "Er. . . Ithought he was dead." The man laughed. "Well, he isn't." I took another look at the bloke in my mirror. Funny thing was, he did look a bit like Bruce Lee. Good-looking sort of man with really dark eyes. "Yes, its me," he said, smiling. Funny thing was, when he said that, I almost believed him. Though you know and I know that Bruce Lee died years ago. Right, mate? "Oh, so you've been training, then?" I asked him. Best thing was to go along with him, you know. We were still about twenty minutes away from Chinatown. For all I knew, he was totally crazy and had a gun in his pocket. That's the kind of thing you have to think of when you've got someone in the back of your cab. "Yes," he said, "perfecting my one-inch punch." Now, I remembered seeing a documentary about Bruce Lee a few years ago. Do you know that he could knock a man to the floor with a punch he gave from only one inch away? That's just two and a half centimeters, He was incredible, that guy. Strong as anything. "Oh, how's it going?" I asked him. You know, playing the game. "Oh really well," he said. "Want to see it?" "Well Tower "Stop the taxi," he said, "{it's very liberal, very tolerant. And although I don't really think..." Now, first rule of a taxi driver is: don't leave your cab. You just don't do it. I mean, anybody could steal it, you know? "Come on," he said, "over there, there aren't any people." To this day I really don't know why I did it, but I pulled the taxi to the side of the road. I turned the engine off and put the key in my pocket; you can never be too careful. We both got out. The rain was still pouring down. I looked at him; he was a thin guy, not very big, kind of light. And, well .. . you can see. I'm a big tall guy, well buile. I spend time in the gym, like to keep myself fit. Well, you have to, don't you? In fact I used to be on the door at a London nightclub, a bouncer. Yeah, I've done a bit of fighting myself, though not these days. "Well," I thought, "if he tries to steal my taxi, I'll be able to knock him to the ground, flatten him," I wasn't worried, you know. 'Then a funny thing happened. He said "Wait!" and he bent down and took his shoes and socks off! Can you imagine that, in the rain? I mean, it was just like tonight, absolutely pouring down, And the funny thing was, I remembered seeing Bruce Lee doing that in his films, He always used to take his shoes and socks off and put them neatly to one side, like he was going to bed or something. "What are you doing? You crazy?" I asked him. "Just something I do. Watch this," he said, pointing at a dustbin on the pavement just in front of us. He stood in his bare feet and put his right fist just in front of the dustbin. Then he punched it Well, the next thing I knew the dustbin flew across the street. It was like it had wings, I tell you. Rubbish was flying everywhere! He looked at me, grinning. "Now just imagine if it was your solar plexus," he said. "Your stomach," he said, like he had to explain to me what a solar plexus was. T looked at the dusthin lying over the other side of the street. "Well," I thought, "just because he can do that doesn't mean he's Bruce Lee." "Would you like me to teach you?" he asked. "Another time maybe," I said. I really wanted to get home to Marlene, and though the punch might be useful in my work,much that's exciting, if you know what I mean, I like it. I like the atmosphere and just the thought that if I wanted to take all my clothes off in the middle of the street, no one would care. No. No one would even notice. So, like I say, I live in The Hague. It's not as beautiful or as exciting as Amsterdam, but it has its advantages. The best thing about it is that its near a place called Scheveningen, which is almost unpronounceable but lovely. Ie has long soft sandy beaches, which are wonderful for walks. And the sea here, the North Sea, is just beautiful, a soft blue-grey. I go to the beach a lot. The traffic in The Hague is pretty bad, but it has good public transport. The noisy red trams and their rails are a familiar sight and that's how I get about. Number one to work, number three to the city centre. And number eleven from my place down to the beach. I live alone in one of those typical tall Dutch houses on a little street between the city centre and the beach. I often go down to the beach after work and at weekends, to walk and relax and look at the sea, Which brings me back to Ria, I first noticed Ria when I was going to the beach on tram cleven one Sunday afternoon. It was early October and a beautiful cold bright day. The tram suddenly stopped somewhere in the middle of nowhere; something was stuck on the rails, Ie happens a lot, and I didn't take much notice until I looked out of the window and saw the tram driver removing a small piece of wood. Now, you can get on a tram in Holland without seeing the driver, and that's exactly what I'd done. But now I saw her, I couldn't take my cyes off her. ['ve never seen a tram driver wear a uniform as well as Ria did. She was tall and slim. And even from a distance I could see that she was beautiful, with long dark hair. Really attractive. She was wearing a skirt, unlike most female tram drivers who usually wear trousers. 'And she had legs that seemed to go on forever. Yeah, she was different. But the most amazing thing about Ria was her eyes, which I noticed straight away, and which were the exact colour of the North Sea, a lovely soft blue-grey. And those eyes kind of grabbed me, that's the only way T can put it, so that I couldn't think that now was the moment to learn. Anyway, I was really wet, I mean soaked to the skin. "Ieof anything else. Pd been grabbed by the throat. 'Well, she got back into the tram and we carried on towards the beach. I moved up the tram so that I could be nearer to her. And I just looked at her all the way to the beach, though I tried not to let her see. I was kind of dazed, as if I'd been hit on the head. I was confused, I don't mind telling you. 'Anyway, the number eleven stops at the beach, on the south side of Scheveningen not too far from the port; it's the end of the tramline, It waits for ten or fifteen minutes, turns round and goes back to the city. I got out and just sort of hung around for a while, looking at Ria but pretending I wasn't looking. The idea of going away was scary; I might never see her again. After a few minutes, Ria got out of the tram and talked for a while to another tram driver, That's when I discovered that she was called Ria, because I heard him shout something to her. It looked like she was going to drive tram eleven back to the city. Thad a little time so I went over to the other side of the road and bought some chips from a little shop near the beach, keeping my eyes on the tram, and Ria, all the time. Then I walked back slowly to the tram, eating my chips and mayonnaise -- 1 know it's a strange combination, bur I've got used to it. I got back on the tram and went back to the city with Ria. So that was it really. For the next two weeks I spent all of my spare time on trams, especially on tram eleven, hoping that she would be the driver, and that I'd get to see her. I got to love that little red tram; it was kind of comforting. I also spent a lot of time waiting for trams, which is when I got the cold. I got to know her routine, and I managed to see a lot of her one way or another, And at nights I would go home to my pleasure," hehouse and write poetry. 'Anyway, one late afternoon I was waiting for the tram on the platform. Ie pulled up and, as luck would have it, Ria was driving. I was feeling kind of brave that particular day, and I got on at the front, just so I could really see her. As I got on, she smiled at me and said, still smiling. Then, suddenly, just like that, whoosh! He did a fantastic, really high side-kick at a signpost. It was'goede middag' which means, 'Good afternoon,' Well, not so fastunusual you might think, but I knew when she said it that she recognised me. Ie was the way her eyes met mine. I don't remember much about that tram ride, I can tell you! I could hardly see it. The post fell over and crashed to the ground. Bang! "Very useful,"feel my face burning red. I was completely overcome with ie all. I kepe reliving that moment when she had said 'Bruce', grinning again. "You like it" "Oh... very nice," I said. "Er... shall'goede middag' for days afterwards. Well, from then on we get off then?" I was a bit nervous by this time,said hello to each other quite often. I was working towards asking her out, you know, lookingkind of trying to find the courage. Finally, one Friday evening, I knew I had to go for it. For one thing, it was starting to look very strange, you know, me following her around to see iflike that. I didn't want anyone had seen what he'd done. Like the police, for example. Itd beto think I was some kind of weird guy who follows women -- you know, a stalker or something. So this particular Friday evening T left work at six o'clock as usual, What I needed was a drink, I thought. Otherwise there was no way I could talk to Ria, not really talk, I mean. The office where I work is near the centre of the city, on a street called Korte Voorhout, so I decided to go to the Dudok. Irs a big new bar just my luck to have them watching us. Luckily there wasn't anybody around. 'Bruce' put his socks and shoes back on and we got back in the cab. "Why aren't you in Hong Kong, then?" I asked him when we were driving towards Chinatown again. It was a stupid question, T know, but like T say T wasa few minutes' walk away. A cool kind of nervous. I mean, it's not every day you get a bloke who tells you that he's Bruce Lee in the back of your taxi. And it's not every day he shows you his one-inch punch. "Well, you know," he said, "I really want to teach my art to the West, so that you can understand my culture." I looked through the mirror at his face. I thought he must be joking, but he looked quite serious. Now, the thing is, I know a thing or two about fighting. I mean, I grew up in the East End of London and I used to box as a kid; Yeah, I was a boxer. Then later I was a bouncer, like I said. I mean, before I learnt 'the knowledge' and became a taxi driver. The knowledge. Do you know what that is? Well, you have to learn the London streets so that you know them like the back of your hand and it's called the knowledge. Every taxi driver in London has it. Its part of the job -- well, it is the job. Once you've got the knowledge you're a real London cab driver! Anyway, on the subject of fighting, I've seen some action and I've seen some pretty good fighters. But this guy, this "Bruce Lee' was seriously good, far better than the others. I mean, you don't see that kind of speed every day. So I was kind of confused,place, if you know what I mean. How could heA fashionable place to be Bruce Lee? Everybody knew that Bruce Lee was dead. But how could he be that good and nor be Bruce Lee? "So, do you think you could teach me?" I asked him. To tell you the truth,seen. I sometimes went there for a quick drink after work, just because its near the office. The Dudok was already crowded; it kind of surprised me that I said it;was a popular spot for an carly evening drink, what the Dutch call a borrel. Yeah, it justwas definitely borrel time. I found a place at the bar and drank a couple of beers quickly. There was a new barman there, a friendly sort of bloke who came out of my mouth. "[am sure I could, but are you ready to learn?"over and started chatting, 'English, ch?" he asked. "Tm not sure what you mean." "If you were ready to learn, I mean really ready, you wouldn't even feel the rain," said 'Bruce.'Turned out his brother had gone to work in London, I didn't say anything. I supposedhave the heart to tell him Td never been there. I mean, just Heathrow airport. So I just nodded when he was right. "And then there is all that boxing stuff,"mentioned Notting Hill and Chiswick. 'Lovely part of London, Chiswick,' he said. "Ics no use to you. In fact, it gets in the way." Now, how did he know that I'd been a boxer? Tell me that. I hadn't'Gorgeous,' I said. 'Another beer?" 'Er, Yd better not,' I said anything to him about me being a boxer. "Like the Zen masrer said," he went on, "in order to learn you must empty your cup. In other words you must unlearn everything you know so far." "Well, I really want to try," I said. I mean, it's not every day you meet this kind of person, Bruce Lee or not. He had me kind of interested. "When can we start?" "Hal"weakly. 'Come on,' he said. "You think it is that easy. You are thinking that if this thin little Chinese man can do it, then so can I, because I am big and strong!" Well, he was right, of course. I was thinking that. "You think that fighting is about aggression," he said. "You don't realise that it's about being strong enough to walk away." I didn't say anything. He was right though; I supposed I did think thae fighting was about being aggressive. "Are you surprised that I can see what is in your heart?" he asked me. "Well, I..." "Yes, you must empty your cup," he said again, "and unlearn everything," "Well," I thought, "easy enough to say, but'Its. . . how do you do that? Howsay it. . .? On the house.' 'Anyway, he was a friendly guy, like I said. He kept coming over to talk to me from time to time, and I kept drinking. I was thinking about whar I was going to say to Ria, to be honest, and I wasn't getting very far. After about an hour, he asked me, 'So, what are you doing all alone on a Friday evening, Harry? By then we were on first-name terms. His was Hans. Well, Id had a few beers by then, so I told him about Ria. I told him about tram eleven and the fact that fd decided to try to get to know her and to ask her out. Hans smiled at me with big round eyes. 'Oh, well, good luck, Harry? he said. 'And I hope she doesn't disappoint you. They say that Dutch women are really strong! You take care of yourself? Funny thing to say, I thought, Anyway, I had a few more beers, and before I knew it was eleven o'clock! I felt like I knew London like the back of my hand, bur that wasn't the point. The point was to talk to Ria and ask her out, I told myself, It was time to get on tram eleven. I wasn't totally drunk, though I must say I'd had enough. I said goodbye to the barman and ran off to catch tram one so that I could get on tram eleven at the Hollands Spoor Station. On the platform I stood where the front of the tram would stop to make sure that it was Ria driving, The first driver was a man, some big blond guy with a moustache, so I waired for the next. Ah, there she was! She looked as attractive as ever, with those lovely North Sea eyes. I got on at the back of the tram this time. I didn't want her to see me before I was ready, if you know what I mean. I put my tram ticket in the little machine and sat right at the back. It was late October by now and it was really cold and windy. As a matter of fact, it's always windy in The Hague. But the moon was up and it was nice and clear. I still wasn't sure how I was going to approach her but, like I said, I had to try, Well, I sat there and sat there and I couldn't think of a way to talk to her -- I mean, say more than 'Good evening.' What do you unleart everything?" "Dosay? 'Do you come here often?" I just couldn't imagine myself asking her, if you know what I mean. Truth is, I'm not try to find me," hevery good with women, I suppose. So, before I knew it, we were at the beach and everybody had to get off, There were about ten people on the tram, mostly people who lived up there, I reckoned, and they all got off and walked away pretty quickly. I got off quickly too so thar Ria wouldn't see me. T went on. "Remember thatand stood behind the tram shelter, where I could see her but she couldn't see me. It was obvious from the way that she collected her stuff together that she was going off duty. I tried to think of a way of hanging around for a while and kept my eye on her. Then, she said something to another tram driver who was going to take the tram back to the city centre and then she set off walking quickly in Zen they say that when you seek, you will not find. I will find you." "What do you. . .?" "Shih," hethe direction of the port. I didn't know what to do, to be honest, seeing her go like that, s0 I followed her. Oh, I know it looked like I was stalking her, which is exactly what I said I didn't want to do, But it seemed like my only choice. Like I said, and put his fingers to his lips.love is a dangerous emotion. Well, by now wed arrivedthe wind was blowing up a storm over the North Sea and the sky was full of huge black clouds, Dutch weather is like that old joke: 'If you don't like it, just wait a while and it'll change.' The sky reminded me of one of those paintings you see at the Rijksmuseum in Chinatown, andAmsterdam, painted by Rembrandt or Vermeer or someone. It wasn't raining yet, but it was only a matter of time. I kept quite far behind Ria, Well, I didn't have much choice, to be honest. She was a very fast walker! She kept up a quick pace along the seafront, trying to get home before the storm blew up, I suppose. I was almost running, just to keep her in sight! I suppose I was drunk too, to be honest, and it's hard to move fast when you've drunk too much. There were a few people still around, coming out of the bars and restaurants in Scheveningen and walking to their cars, or just taking the sea air. I didn't look too strange, It was about midnight by now. I was thinking to myself 'this is stupid,' and telling myself that I was a coward but, like T say, T couldn't help ir. The beach front at Scheveningen is long, and there's a kind of wide path that goes right down towards the port. That was obviously where Ria was heading, so I was thinking that she had to live somewhere near the port. Part' of the old fishing village, the original Scheveningen, is down there. So I carried on walking, following her. The weather at the beach changes pretty quickly, like I said, and, sure enough, before long it started raining quite hard, that kind of horizontal rain you get around here. I didn't have an umbrella of course, so soon I was completely soaked. After about twenty minutes' walk, we got near the port, At the beginning of the port area, there are a lot of fish restaurants and small bars. But by now they were almost all closed, and the place was nearly deserted. Ria looked round at one point, but I was far enough away that she couldn't recognize me. Then we got into the port itself. There were quite a few boats there: a few local fishing boats, and some ships with the names of English ports on them. Around the harbour itself it was pretty dark, and the only noise I could hear was the sound of Ria's heels on the pavement. Right in the corner of the harbour there's a little bar called De Hoek. It's a place where the fishermen go, and some Scheveningen locals. Td never been in there myself, though I'd heard people at the office talk about it. It had a reputation as a wild kind of place. It was still open; I could see a kind of dim yellow light and there was music and voices coming from inside. I looked at my watch. It was one o'clock! It was late, but the bar was so far away from any houses thar it could probably stay open as long as it liked, I thought. 'Anyway, Ria walked over towards it, opened the door and went right in. Odd, I thought. Did she live there, or was she just going in for a quick drink before bed? Hard to say. By now the rain had died down a bit, so I decided to wait a little longer. Well, I was already wet through so it didn't marter. Yeah, | know it sounds crazy, but that's what Itold you. You do strange things when you'r in love. So I waited quite a while, My mind was working overtime, I can tell you. Did she live here, or did her boyftiend live here? There had to be a boyfriend. Perhaps he paidwas a fisherman or sailor! A good-looking sailor with a sports car and a big bank account of course. That would be just my luck. So there I was, waiting. And I thought, 'Hey, I haven't got anything to lose.' You know what I mean? So what if she's got a boyfriend? It can't be any worse than standing out here, dripping wet and shivering. By now I was like a dog that had just come out of the sea. And it looked like it was going to start raining again. So I walked over to the bar and opened the old wooden door. 'The only things I noticed at first were the overpowering smell of cigars, and a fair amount of smoke. I could hear music playing too, sounded like jazz, I looked around, trying to see Ria. 'Are you sure you want to come in here?" I looked up into the face of a huge Dutch guy. He was standing right next to me and jumped out of the taxi, quick as a flash, Weblowing smoke in my face. 'Er, I'm not sure,' I answered. 'Well, decide,' he said. 'The bar was full of people, men mainly, though there were outside a restauranta couple of women too. I looked around for Ria, but I couldn't see her anywhere. I moved away from the tall Dutchman and pushed through the crowd towards the bar. 'As I moved through the smoke I could see a kind of stage on Gerrard Street. It was one of those typical Chinatown places, with red lights everywhere. I looked out into the rain as he ran towards the restaurant.the other side of the room. And then comes the strangest part of this whole story. This is the bit where you're going to think I'm telling you lies. He just disappeared. I mean vanished! First he was there and then he was gone. I saw him outside the restaurant and then, whoof! He disappeared. Difficult to believe eh? But it's true, sure as my name is <PRESIDIO_ANONYMIZED_PERSON>. 'Well, I rubbedon the stage someone was dancing to the music. After a minute or so, my eyes a bit. At first I thought he must have gone into the restaurant so I went in to have a look for him. Inside there were a few people having dinner, you know, people who'd been to the theatre or whatever. I looked around the tables. Then I asked the waiters and even the manager. I described him, but no, they hadn't seen him. Theygot used to the smoke and the dim light, and I could see the dancer. It took me a little while to work out that she was completely naked! Well, I didn't know who I was talking about. So I left the restaurant and drove home. What else could I do? On the way I thought about everything: the punch, the kick, what he said about the cup and my heart, telling me not to look for him and then the way he disappeared like that. It all went through my mind. To tell you the truth, when I really thought about it, I felt that maybe I'd just been working too hard, you know. Perhaps I'd imagined it all. I mean it was all so strange. Except that how could I have imagined it all? Anyway, I just wanted to go home to see Marlene. I didn't even phone her on the mobile -- thought I'd give her a surprise, Come to think of it, that was strange in itself. never went home without ringing her first. I got home and stopped the cab outside my third-floor flat in Maxwell Gardens. I looked up at the window and I could see from the light that Marlene was watching television. Probably one of those old Hollywood films that she liked so much, I thought. I suddenly fele really happy that I was going to see her, you know, after all that. I wished that I'd picked up some flowers for her, or some chocolates. Te was still raining hard and I wanted to get in fast, but even so I checked all the doors on the taxi, like I always do. Where I live is full of car thieves and I didn't want them to have a good night. This cab's my pride and joy, you know, and my way of making a living, so it's important to me, I checked the back doors and then I noticed something on the floor of the cab, like a dark shape. I opened the door again and felt the shape. It was the Chinese guy's parcel! The one he was carrying when he got into my cab. "Well," I thought, "I'm not going to do anything about it tonight. I may as well take it inside and sort it out tomorrow." I took hold of the brown paper parcel and ran inside. I got into the lift and had a look at the package in the light. It was soft, as if it was full of clothes, and there was no name or address on it. I had no idea how I was going to get it back to 'Bruce', especially since hed disappeared off the face of the earth, Still, I don't mind telling you that I felt somehow happy that I had it. It meant that there was at least a chance that he might try and contact me to get his parcel back. T went upstairs. "Ricky!" Marlene shouted as soon as T put the key in the front door. But she didn't sound very happy; it was like she was upset that I was home early. I walked down the hall and opened the door of the living room. Then I got the shock of my life, I tell you. I went in and she was there, in my living room, with another man! He was a thin, blond-haired guy. As soon as he saw me he jumped up from the sofa and tried to get out of the door. Marlene jumped up too. "Ricky, you're early," she said, "and you didn't phone. . ." "Well, I can see that you weren't expecting me," I said. I was mad,where to look, I can tell you. The man was standing in front of me and I reallybig Durch guy was looking at me, smiling and watching for my reactions. I sort of smiled back. To be honest, I wanted to leave. I felt like punching him. He was a thin little man, not much meat on him, if you know what I mean, and I could have really hurt him. Tell you the truth, I felt like killing him! And that's what the old me would have done, believe me.kind of embarrassed. But something strange happened that night. Suddenly, I fel calm all over. I didn't feel like punching him any more. I heard the Chinese guy's voice in my head. "You think that fighting is about aggression. You don't realise that it's about being strong enough to walk away." Suddenly I could see everything. I could see that this wasn't the first time. I could see that Marlene wasn't faithful co me and that she never had been. I could see that she didn't love me. It came to me, you know. It just suddenly hit me. It was like, what do they call it? A revelation, mate, that's it. So that was the first thing that changed. Once I knew that Marlene didn't love me, I didn't want to seem foolish or anything, so I acted like it was the most natural thing in the world. I ordered a beer, though it was the last thing I wanted, to tell you the truth. I just wanted to run out of there, Ria or no Ria. Then the music stopped and everyone clapped. 'Oh good,' I thought, 'this is my chance to get out of here.' But the music started again almost immediately and someone else came onto the stage. 'Look at this,' said the big Dutch guy, pushing my elbow. 'You'l like this! I smiled kind of awkwardly, and looked over to the little stage and at the face of the new dancer. She was wearing a bit more make-up than usual, but there was no mistaking those eyes. It was Ria! 'Well, I was shocked, I can tell you! But it got worse. The music started and Ria started taking her any more. It was living a lie and I knew immediately thatclothes off Everyone in the bar was shouting and whistling. Part of me wanted to leave, but the other part just made me stay there. I couldn't move. Little by litte, Ria's clothes came off until she was completely naked. And then came the greatest shock of all, because then I saw that there was something about Ria that was different. She was different from other girls. And ie wasnt only that she was a tram driver. She was aman! 'Aaagh!' I sort of screamed and moved quickly towards the door. 'See what I mean?' said the big Dutch guy behind me, laughing. I ran outside. The Dutch guy followed me, shouting, "So, you like our entertainment, do that, So, next day she left, and I haven't seen her since. "I'm looking for the right one," Iyou, little English boy?" Abit rude, I thought, calling me 'litde', but I thoughe Pd lec it pass, I ran as fast as I could. I ran all the way back home. I couldn't help thinking about what Hans had said to myself, "and I'm nor interested in second best." So, anyway, with all the upset, I totally forgot about the parcel Id found in the back of the cab. But the next day, once Marlene had gone, I remembered. I'strong women', He didn't know what to do with it and I was really curioushow right he was. Yeah, there are times when life comes and grabs you by the throat. So, all that happened about what was inside. I tore open the brown paper wrapping and found 2 pair of blue pyjamas, made of silk. I held themsix months ago. Since then, things have, well, calmed down a bit. I get up to have a good look. I just stood there, staring. The top was a Chinese-style jacket with a stand-up collar. The bottoms were just silk trousers. They were both deep, midnight blue, and really lovely. They looked incredible in my living room, It sounds funny, but it was like there was suddenly a lot of light, if you know what I mean. Like a ray of sunshine. I knew that I had to keep them. Then, I know it sounds funny, mate, but it was like that ray of sunshine started to have an effect on me, on my life. I don't know what it was, but something began that night. Getting rid of Marlene was just the start of it all. Ie was like the truth started to come out. Things started to change in me. A few days later I thought, "What am I doing with my life? Do I just want to be a taxi driver forever?" I mean, it's all right, but there's more to life than driving a cab. There's more knowledge than knowledge of the streets of London, if you know what I mean. I started to think about college, you know. I left school when I was sixteen, but there's no reason I can't go back. So now I go to college one day a week, getting some qualifications you know, tying to improve myself, And then I'll stop being a cab driver, I want to start my own business. I mean, you've only got one life, haven't you, mate? And T know this sounds weird, but Pm sure it all has something to do with those pyjamas. I mean that's when it all started. I couldn't help wondering about them. I mean, they looked kind of familiar to me. I was sure I'd seen them before. So about a week after I'devery morning for work and I come home with the parcel, I got myself a beer and got our allevery evening. I make dinner. I watch my old Bruce Lee videos.favourite TV program on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I go out, I come in. I have a drink on a Friday night. The Chinese Connection, Enter the Dragon ... Return of the Dragon, all of them. I sat there watching them for hours. Finally I found what I was looking for. Return of the Dragon, it was. There he was, Bruce Lee, wearing blue pyjamas, justhighlight of my week is lunch out on Sundays. OK, it's boring, but to tell the truth T kind of like the ones in my wardrobe! T got down on the floor next to the television screen to take a closer look at the blue silk pyjamas. I put the video on pause and stared at them. Yeah, there was no doube about it; they were 'my' blue pyjamas. Well, they weren'tit. Pm happy. But I'm really pyjamas, you know. It was a suit, his kung fu suit. But they looked exactly like the blue pyjamas in my bedroom. They were the blue pyjamas in my bedroom! Yeah, things started changing in me, no doubt about it. Over the months there were lots of things. I'm training to run my own business, like I said. I stopped smoking and drinking too much, you know. I started going to the gym again, went jogging and lost a bit of weight. Just looking after. my body. Different things started to become important, you know. Somehow I started to respect myself. So that's it really. Ir's a mystery to me, a complete mystery, mate, Its a year ago now and I still think about it every day. But the thing is, I take care of those blue pyjamas, I mean they're hanging up in the wardrobe, nice and tidy and clean. So that if this guy, this 'Bruce Lee' came back for them they'd be just the same as they were when he left them. I know it's kind of stupid, but he'd know that I'd looked after them. And I think about what he said about not looking for him, about him finding me. And funny thing is, I feel like I'm kind of waiting. Waiting and getting ready. Yeah, it's a funny old world, There you are, mate. Chinatown. That'll be ten pounds." 'Pm here Ricky,' said a voice from the hack of the cab. The taxi driver turned around and looked into the blackness in the back of the cab. But he couldn't see anyone. 'I think you've started," said the voice. It was 'Bruce Lee's' voice, he was sure. The cab driver rubbed his eyes, bur still there was no one there. 'You're on the way to the knowledge.'forward to the winter.
CHATBOT: Summary: The text narrates the story of Harry Brent, an Englishman living in Holland, who works for an import and export company in The Hague. Harry details his mundane daily life until he unexpectedly falls in love with Ria, a tram driver, illustrating how love can dramatically alter one's routine and perception of life. His infatuation leads him on a journey of late-night tram rides, poetry writing, and battling the cold, all in hopes of getting closer to Ria. However, his romantic pursuit takes an unexpected turn when he follows Ria into a bar one night and discovers she performs in a nude dance show there. The shocking climax reveals that Ria is actually a man, throwing Harry into complete disarray. Months later, Harry finds himself back in his old, predictable lifestyle, appreciating its simplicity and dreading the emotional turmoil that love can bring. Conclusions: 1. Love can profoundly disrupt the ordinary, bringing excitement and chaos into the structured monotony of daily life. 2. The anticipation and pursuit of love can lead one to act out of character, taking risks and facing fears that they otherwise wouldn't. 3. Love is unpredictable and can lead to unexpected revelations that challenge one's perceptions and beliefs. 4. The experience of misdirected affection and the pain of unmet expectations can make one wary of opening up to love again. 5. Despite the intensity and turmoil of unexpected love, there is a comfort in returning to a stable, predictable routine, even if it's seen as mundane.
USER: Make aAnalasyse the text and make short summary with conclusions: As Paul Boyle got on the plane in Chicago, he remembered how he had wanted to go to Austin ever since he was a teenager. It was the music, really, that attracted him. And now he had his chance. United's two-week tour to the States, to get the Americans more interested in football -- or soccer, as they called it -- was finished. There was just enough time to fly down there before the start of the new season back in England. He would spend a couple of days in Austin and have a look around. It would be fun to stay in a motel, instead of a five-star hotel, and see some good bands. Just have fun. "Why don't you and the kids come with me?' Paul had said to his wife Karen. But she had been concerned to get the children settled down back home in Manchester again. It was little Darren's first year at school, and she wanted him to have the best possible start. And their second child Courtney was still only eleven months old. It was hard travelling with two small children. 'No, darling,' she had said. "You go off for a few days on your own, enjoy yourself, and I'll get back home.' The truth was that she wasn't too keen on the States, Two weeks of it was quite enough. She was looking forward to getting back into her routine again. 'As Paul Boyle sat down in his business class seat, he thought how nice it was to get a litte time to himself. It was a busy life being a star footballer. All in all, it was rare that he was on his own these days. There was his club, United, and then the national team too. That meant a lot of training every week, and then there were the advertisers who paid so much to use his name. It was all very hard work. Not that he was complaining. 'I'm the luckiest guy in the world," he always said when he was interviewed. 'After all, I get paid a lot of money for doing what T love.' Not only was he 'the most talented footballer of his generation', as a leading sports journalist had described him, but he was also handsome and intelligent. And he had a wonderful family. He had everything going for him. 'And now there was talk that he would be made captain of the England team for the preparations for the European Cup. He hadn't even talked to Karen about this text andthat yet. After all, it wasn't official, and he wanted it so much that he was scared of mentioning it, He didn't want her to be disappointed if it didn't happen. He smiled to himself when he thought about it, though. Te was what he had always dreamed of! As a kid he had sat and watched players like Bryan Robson and Gary Lineker lead England. At night he had slept in his little bedroom with pictures of great England players, like Bobby Moore and Geoff Hurst, on his walls, They were like gods to him. Now he was one of them. Sometimes he had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming! To wear the three lions on your shirt at all was an incredible honour, but to be captain of England! It would be the peak of his career. No footballer could wish for more. "Thanks," he said, smiling widely, as the flight attendant gave him his fresh orange juice. "Yesterday morning, at about ten o'clock, forty-four-year- old Grace Kent left her home in Galveston, Texas and went for a walk by the ocean. This was her usual routine on Sunday mornings, generally returning home by twelve noon. But yesterday she still hadn't returned home by one d'elock. At about one thirty, her husband, Bob Kent, forty- six, rang the Coast Guard and a search began. The Coast Guard found her clothes on the beach at seven o'clock in the evening. It is now feared that she drowned in the storm that hit the Gulf coast yesterday afternoon. Jim Lean, chief of the Galveston Coast Guard Station, said in a statement yesterday "If Mrs Kent was in the water when the storm came on shore in the Gulf of Mexico, it's very unlikely that she could have survived." Grace Kent sat in a coffee shop and stared hard at the television screen. She watched the pictures and listened to the presenter almost as if it were about someone else. 'Galveston woman may have drowned' said the headline at the bottom of the screen. So, thought Grace, she had managed to disappear. And now, it seemed, she had drowned as well! She looked at the photo of herself on the screen. They'd chosen the one of her on vacation in Palm Springs about eight years ago, the one that had always stood over the fireplace in the living room. She looked almost happy and relaxed there. She had long blonde hair that she wore loose. The woman now sitting on the bench looked very different. Her hair was jet black and tied back, and she wore thick unattractive glasses, like the ones worn by librarians in films. Yes, she thought, she had disguised herself well. Nobody could have known that the woman in the grey jacket and the glasses was Grace Kent. Grace paid for her coffee and went outside. The air was warm and she could feel a threatening wind from the Gulf of Mexico. Another storm on the way, no doubt. Perhaps even a hurricane. She went past the shops lining the sidewalk, past the Texas Stare Bank where she'd worked for nine years. Then she walked hurriedly across the road and into the Greyhound bus station on 25th Street. 'A ticket to Austin,' she said to the man in the ticket office. Grace picked up a small black overnight bag from the baggage room at the bus station and got on the bus to 'Austin. She chose a window seat near the back of the bus and placed the bag above her head. She took off her jacket and sat down. Within minutes the bus was crawling slowly out of the station. It was about two hundred miles to 'Austin and the journey would take well over five hours. Grace sat back, thankful that the bus was not full and she could sit alone. As the bus lef Galveston and joined the freeway, Grace was aware that she felt lighter. As long as she could remember, she had loved travelling ~ being on the move. Grace couldn't help smiling to herself. Now she was not only on the move but dead as well. There was freedom in that. Oh, eventually she would tell everyone that she was still alive. Bob and the kids. But for now she would enjoy her moment of complete and absolute freedom. Colonel Tim Parker of the British Army looked at himself in the full-length mirror that stood in the hallway of his house. He liked what he saw. His suit was neat and well pressed. His shoes shone. He smoothed back his hair and put on his hat, adjusting it to exactly the angle he liked best. Yes, at fifty-five he was still a fine figure of a man, tall and athletic, He was ready for one of the final journeys of his tour of duty in Central America, almost the final journey of his career. In three weeks he would be leaving for England and in just a few months he would be retiring from the army. In the meantime, the colonel had been invited to Austin, Texas, to represent the British Army at an international conference on security. Today he would fly from Guatemala City airport to Dallas, then through to Austin. "Bye, dear,' he called to his wife. Victoria Parker came out of the kitchen and kissed her husband goodbye. She was a slim pretty woman in her carly fifties. Though she was greying now, it was not hard to see why she had caught the eye of the young Major Parker at an army dance thirty years earlier. "Bye darling,' she said. 'See you on Sunday. And don't forget to take some conclusions: Love is a dangerous emotion,time off to see the bats!" The colonel smiled. He was crazy about bats. Hed always been amazed at these small mouse-like animals with big ears which only flew at night. In fact, bats were his main hobby. One of the attractions of going to Austin was that it was the city with the largest population of bats in the world. They moved up from Mexico in spring to give birth. And the best time to see them was right now in August, when the young joined their parents in nighdy flights from under the Congress' Avenue Bridge. Apparently, there were so many bats that it could take forty-five minutes for them all to leave the bridge. Some estimates said that there were one and a half million bats. The colonel was really looking forward to seeing the sight. He felt like an excited schoolboy. The colonel opened the fine old wooden door of the house and stepped out. His driver had brought the Land Rover from the garage round to the wide driveway. The colonel got into the car as he had done so many times before and put his two-way radio on the little shelf in front of him. The automatic gates of the house opened and they drove out, taking the third of the five alternative routes to the airport. Joe Stefano didn't much like working at the hotel, but he figured ic was a job. And in San Antonio, Texas, jobs were hard to come by. Held got the job because of his wife Rita, in fact because of Rita's father Jack. Joe couldn't stand old Jack Vazquez; he was an interfering old guy who thought his darling daughter Rita was far too good for Joe. Joe hated having to be obliged to him, even grateful to him, bur he didn't have much choice. 'Anyway, Jack had a friend called Henriquez who owned a hotel in downtown San Antonio, and he found a job in the hotel kitchen for Joe at Jack's request. "You'll have to start at the bottom,' said old Henriquez, 'just like everybody else. I don't want people accusing me of promoting the relatives of my friends! Great! What was the point of having 'friends' if they couldn't find you a nice easy job? Joe tried ta stick at it. He spent his days washing dirty dishes, peeling potatoes and cleaning floors. Joe was an anxious, nervous man of about thirty-five, with curly black hair and deep blue eyes. He was handsome enough, and he had that charm that women sometimes fall for. Rita had certainly fallen for it. "Don't worry about starting at the hottam, darling," Rita kept saying. 'Is only a matter of time. Little by little, they'll sce that you're a good hard-working man and they'll move you up.' Joe wondered whether that was true. In his worst moments, he imagined that he would end up a worn-out old man, washing dirty plates. And the truth was that he had a terrible temper, which meane that he didn't like taking orders from anyone. Most days he had to make a big effort not to hit the kitchen manager, a thin, ugly guy. Sooner or later, something had to go wrong; it always did. Ielasted three months. The day it ended was a normal Friday at the hotel. 'There was a big group of businessmen in for a fancy lunch, so the restaurant was busy. But it was always busy. One of the cooks asked Joe to bring him a large pan of water. Joe dropped the water on the floor, The kitchen manager ran over and shouted at him, calling him a stupid idiot, and told him to clean it up immediately. Joe saw red. He lifted up his fist. He felt like hitting the manager, but took it out on his kitchen instead. He went crazy, He threw all the pans onto the floor, and within seconds the kitchen was swimming in boiling water and broccoli. He ruined all the food and burned one of the cooks so badly that he had to be taken to hospital. Joe was sacked immediately. "Get out' shouted the kitchen manager. 'And never let me see you in my kitchen again!" Joe wondered how he was going to tell you.Rita. 'Foothaller, eh?" said the large Texan man sitting next to Paul Boyle on his flight from Dallas to Austin, 'You must make a lot of money, then.' Boyle smiled and nodded. He didn't mind this kind of exchange; in fact it-was one of the things he liked about the States. Bue it was exactly the kind of thing that drove Karen mad. Strangers would start conversations with you, and ask you the most personal questions. "Well, yes,' he answered smiling, 'I suppose so." Paul had often thought that if he hadn't been a footballer, he would have been a musician. He'd always played the guitar, even as a kid, and he still played sometimes with his mates back home in Manchester. When he had time, that is. His passion was the blues, which was why Austin was so attractive. He loved Blind Lemon Jefferson and Blind Willie Johnson and all those guys. Why were they always blind, he wondered. His plan was to go to Antone's Blues Club while he was in Austin and listen to some really good live music. In fact, he thought, as the plane started its approach into Austin-Bergstrom Airport, there might even be time to go tonight. It was only five thirty, and if he took a cab from the airport to the motel, had a shower and freshened up, there would still be plenty of time to have dinner downtown and go to the famous club. Once in the terminal he collected his bags and walked outside into the warm heavy air of Austin, He reached into his inside jacket pocket and took out the card of the motel. 'A guy he'd met in Chicago had recommended it to him. 'Tes a great place,' the man had said, 'and really gives you the atmosphere I think you're looking for." "The Lone Star Motel, please,' he said to the taxi driver. Tt was not that she wanted to hurt her family, Grace Kent thought. It was just that, well, she had fele invisible for so long, It was time to reclaim her life. 'Take the other day, she thought, as she looked at the huge Texan landscape outside the window. It was typical. "Honey, I thought we'd take Mom away for Christmas,' Bob had said. He had that little boy look he sometimes put on when he had a 'plan.' "Oh,y' said Grace. 'There must have been something in the way she said it that made him want to explain, because he said, 'Now that Dad's gone, it'll be lonely for her, and I think it's better to get away, you know, from the house. And maybe Lucy and Chip would like to come over too. After all, we don't know how long she's going to be around..." Grace wondered why it was that Bob's mother was somehow more important than her own parents, who were both still alive. 'Tm just mentioning it,' said Bob, realising now that they should discus: 'because I think we'll need to plan ahead . . .' His voice died away. The thought of spending a vacation with Bob's mother, the quick-tempered Kate, made Grace's heart sink. And then add her own daughter Lucy, now twenty and living away from home for the first time and enjoying her new- found freedom. She would be moody and bad-tempered at having to be with family when she could be with her new friends, And also her son Chip, twenty-two, who would no doubt bring his latest girlfriend, and who was always happens when you're least expecting it.moody and bad-tempered whatever the situation! The thought of going' somewhere with all of them, being somewhere she couldn't get away from them . . Te was her fault, she thought. She must have made them like this. Grace smiled to herself through the bus window. There would have to be changes. She would go back ro work, find herself something to get absorbed in, something apart from the family. Enough was enough. The kids had grown ups they could look after themselves. "The bus was approaching Austin. She would find herself a motel, settle in and phone Bob. It creeps up on you and jumps on you out of the blue, It grabs you by the throat, shakes you and says, 'I'm here! You'd better take notice of me!" I mean,wasn't fair of her to let him and the kids think she was dead. She would explain things to him, That she needed a week or two just to think things through. She just needed a little time and distance to think about it. One minute you're going alongwhat she wanted to do, how she wanted things to, well, change. Yes, it was time to reclaim her life. Being defence attache for Central America was not exactly the best job for a colonel in the British Army. Tim Parker's colleagues had smiled when they heard of the posting, as if to say, "Well, that's got rid of him, then.' But, thought the colonel, as he settled into his business class seat from Guatemala City to Austin via Dallas, that's where they had been wrong. The colonel was a strong believer in doing a good job, whatever the situation. He had quickly worked out there were two things that he had to work on in the region. The first was projects which were principally non-political, such as army education. The second was security. He had decided early on that he would make a name for himself in both. He had a way of being in the right place at the right time. Security had become a priority since the terrorist attack on New York in September 2001, especially for the 'Americans, and the colonel's expertise was suddenly very nicely, thank you. You getmuch in demand. This had put the British Army on the map in the region and beyond, and his superiors at the Ministry of Defence were happy with him. It was a fitting end to a very good career. The colonel reached into his briefcase and took out his papers to read through the arrangements for the conference. It was being held at a place called the Driskill Hotel. It seemed to be one of the biggest hotels in the city, and from the map it looked like it was right in the centre. The colonel was not a believer in five-star hotels. 'They make you soft,' he always said to his wife. 'I can sleep anywhere," Victoria didn't argue with him, though when they went on holiday she would have preferred to stay in top-class hotels, rather than the guesthouses where they usually ended up. 'Besides,' he had said to her before his trip to Austin, 'what better opportunity for a terrorist who wants to kill two hundred security experts than to have them all stay together in one hotel?" Well, she had to admit he had a point. He had asked the organisers to find him somewhere up every morningnear Congress Avenue. 'A small hotel will do,' he had said, 'or a motel. As long as its clean." He looked again at the arrangements. The Tone Star Motel was where he would stay for work and you come home every evening, You make dinner. You watch your favourite TV program on Tuesdays and 'Thursdays. You go out, you come in, You have a drink on Fridaythe next few nights. The highlight of your week is lunch out on Sundays. Thav's life as you know it. At least you think you're alive, but then real life comes along and does a little dance in front of you and you realize that you've been half dead. 'Thar's the wayWell, it was when I met Ria. One minute I was just going along like this, bored but kind of OK. Well at lease I was healthy. Next thing I knew Twas out late at night, freezing to death, doing all kinds of strange things. And it seemed to me that I just had to do them; somehow I didn't have any choice. Now I don't know about you, but there's a certain pattern to my falling in love. Firstsounded very Texan, he thought and, best of all, it always happens in winter, so it's freezing cold, October, November and December are the usual months, and they're cold in Holland, really cold. And in The Hague the wind comes off the sea and goes right through you like a knife. Not the kind of weather for hanging around on street corners or in telephone boxes, but that's always what I end up doing. One day I'm going to bed at nine thirty with a good book, the next 'm out at one o'clock in the morning, knowing that I'm goinglooked from the map to be exhausted the next day. Exhausted, but excited. Then comes a cold, or even worse, flu. Pd like to fall in love in summer, but it never happens that way. Then there's the poetry. Suddenly I start writing poetry; it just pours out of me. And it' all deep meaningful scuff that has to be written in the early hours of the morning, usually accompanied by lots of alcohol. So the next day, on top of the cold I already have, I have a hangover from the drink. It's a miracle that my bass hasn't sacked me. 'And the worst bit is when I realise that there's probably another man in her life. And of course he's really good- looking and has a sports car and a big bank account. So everything followed more or less the usual pattern with Ria, First came the cold and the poems. I hadn't seen the good-looking boyfriend yet, but I had the feeling that it was just a matter of time. There was something about Ria that was different, though. She was different from other gitls. First of all there was her job. She was a tram driver. But lec me tell you a little bie about myself, because no doubt you're wondering what an English guy is doing living in Holland, in The Hague to be exact. Well, my name's Harry Brent, I'm twenty-nine and I've been here for 'wo years. I work for an international import and export company, JGD. They're based in Manchester but have offices all over Europe. They sent me here to work in their Dutch office. I'll probably be here for another two or three years. Import and export. Sounds kind of boring, eh? Well, it's OK really, and Holland is an interesting country. For one thing, you can more or less do what you want here, I mean, it's very liberal, very tolerant. And although I don't really do much that's exciting, if you know what I mean, I like it. I like the atmosphere and just the thought that if I wanted to take all my clothes off in the middle of the street, no one would care. No. No one would even notice. So, like I say, I live in The Hague. It's not as beautiful or as exciting as Amsterdam, but it has its advantages. The best thing about it is that its near a place called Scheveningen, which is almost unpronounceable but lovely. Ie has long soft sandy beaches, which are wonderful for walks. And the sea here, the North Sea, is just beautiful, a soft blue-grey. I go to the beach a lot. The traffic in The Hague is pretty bad, but it has good public transport. The noisy red trams and their rails are a familiar sight and that's how I get about. Number one to work, number three to the city centre. And number eleven from my place down to the beach. I live alone in one of those typical tall Dutch houses on a little street between the city centre and the beach. I often go down to the beach after work and at weekends, to walk and relax and look at the sea, Which brings me back to Ria, I first noticed Ria when I was going to the beach on tram cleven one Sunday afternoon. It was early October and a beautiful cold bright day. The tram suddenly stopped somewhere in the middle of nowhere; something was stuck on the rails, Ie happens a lot, and I didn't take much notice until I looked out of the window and saw the tram driver removing a small piece of wood. Now, you can get on a tram in Holland without seeing the driver, and that's exactly what I'd done. But now I saw her, I couldn't take my cyes off her. ['ve never seen a tram driver wear a uniform as well as Ria did. She was tall and slim. And even from a distance I could see that she was beautiful, with long dark hair. Really attractive. She was wearing a skirt, unlike most female tram drivers who usually wear trousers. 'And she had legs that seemed to go on forever. Yeah, she was different. But the most amazing thing about Ria was her eyes, which I noticed straight away, and which were the exact colour of the North Sea, a lovely soft blue-grey. And those eyes kind of grabbed me, that's the only way T can put it, so that I couldn't think of anything else. Pd been grabbed by the throat. 'Well, she got back into the tram and we carried on towards the beach. I moved up the tram so that I could be nearer to her. And I just looked at her all the way to the beach, though I tried not to let her see. I was kind of dazed, as if I'd been hit on the head. I was confused, I don't mind telling you. 'Anyway, the number eleven stops at the beach, on the south side of Scheveningen not too far from the port; it's the end of the tramline,Congress Avenue and the bridge where the bats hung before their nightly flight. The conference didn't start until tomorrow. Tonight, he thought, he would have an early dinner, perhaps downtown. Then he would go back to Congress Avenue and go bat-spotting. Ie said in all the guidebooks that the best time to see them was around eight or eight thirty in the evening, 'The colonel smiled to himself. There was still an hour or two before he arrived in Austin. He opened his briefcase and took out a book. He smiled as he settled down to read A Guide to the Bats of North and South America. In San Antonio, Joe Stefano's wife Rita was worried. Joe always met her on Monday after work. Monday was the day he finished early at the hotel. At about ten minutes to five he usually parked his Dodge truck outside the dress shop where she worked on Jefferson Street and waited for her. Sometimes they went to see a movie at a theatre downtown, Sometimes they went to a bar for margaritas and then for dinner at a restaurant. Rita loved Italian food and San Antonio had some good places to eat. Monday was a good night to go out downtown; most people stayed at home, so the traffic wasn't too bad. Sometimes Rita and Joe just went home too. It waitswas a fifteen-mile drive to their house outside the city. This Monday, Rita came out of the dress shop at the usual time. She was a slim young woman with short black hair; people said she looked like the young Audrey Hepburn. In her dream life, Joe was Gregory Peck. She thought that his temper and his violence were things that the love of a good woman could make disappear. She looked around the crowded street, but the Dodge wasn't there, Oh well, maybe he was a few minutes late; the traffic was always had in the city these days, She waited on the sidewalk. Ie was still hot and she started to feel uncomfortable. She looked at her watch again. Ten past five. Where was he? She rang the hotel. No, he wasn't there. They put him onto the kitchen manager. 'No, he hasn't been here the whole day, Mrs Stefano. Matter of fact, he won't be coming back. I fired him on Friday. You mean to say he didn'e tell..." Rita Stefano hung up. Fired! He hadn't said anything! How dare he! Her face went red with anger. Joe had come out of prison only nine months ago, after serving two years for tenattacking someone. He had mixed with the wrong people, Rita thought; she just knew he wasnt a bad man in himself. Far from it. Anyway, he had come out of jail and she'd helped him get the job at the hotel. They had been lucky. It was the couple's chance to make a new start, t0 forget about the past. Rita had thought everything was going well, bur now she started thinking about it, he had been very tense at the weekend. Kind of wound up. In fact, held seemed very tense for the past week or fifteen minutes, turns round and goes back to the city. Iso. "My God, where is he?' She waited and waited. Perhaps there'd been an accident, Perhaps he was at the hospital . .. 'Oh my God, perhaps he's dead,' she thought. She tried to remain calm. Ata quarter to six she couldn't wait any longer. She rang the police. 'No, ma'am,' said the police officer, 'we don't have any report of an accident to Joe Stefano.' By now she was beside herself with worry; she just couldn't understand it, She went home and waited. And waited. 'At half past eight that Monday morning, Joe Stefano had driven his Dodge truck into a parking lot in downtown San Antonio. He wore blue trousers and a T-shirt under a thin jacket. Joe got out andof his car and walked the ten minutes to the bus station. It was hot but he walked quickly. He felt like he was going to explode. Ar the bus station he went into the ticket office. Joe Stefano didn't have any particular reason to go to Austin, He just sort of hunghad to get away, get away from San Antonio, get away from it all. That stupid boss at the hotel who'd sacked him, his father-in-law, his stupid life. Get away from Rita, before he hurt her. Get away from his own powerlessness. Just get away. 'A ticket to Austin,' he said to the man in the ticket office. There is no doubt that the Lone Star Motel in Austin, Texas is different. It seems to have more going for it than a regular motel. The sign outside it, pointing upwards, flashes: 'So close yet so far out.' It looks like the kind of place where Elvis Presley had parties in the 1950s. The blues singer Janis Joplin had probably stayed there. There is more than a hint of guilty pleasure about it. The rooms are pink and blue and the air conditioning is noisy but efficient. The swimming pool has cactus plants around it. Icis a place where anything might happen. But even for a while, looking at Ria but pretending I wasn't looking. The idea of going away was scary; I might never see her again. After a few minutes, Ria got out of the tram and talked for a while to another tram driver, That's when I discovered that she was called Ria, because I heard him shout something to her. It looked like she was going to drive tram eleven back to the city. Thad a little time so I went over to the other side of the road and bought some chips from a little shop near the beach, keeping my eyes on the tram, and Ria, all the time. Then Iplace as full of potential as the Lone Star Motel, the particular set of circumstances that threw it together with Paul Boyle, Grace Kent, Colonel Tim Parker and Joe Stefano were unfortunate to say the least. When Joe Stefano walked back slowly to the tram, eating my chips and mayonnaise -- 1 know it's a strange combination, bur I've got used to it. I got back on the tram and went back to the city with Ria. So that was it really. For the next two weeks I spent all of my spare time on trams, especially on tram eleven, hoping that she would be the driver, and that I'd get to see her. I got to love that little red tram; it was kind of comforting. I also spent a lot of time waiting for trams, which is when I got the cold. I got to know her routine, and I managed to see a lot of her one way or another, And at nights I would go home to my house and write poetry. 'Anyway, one late afternoon I was waiting for the tram on the platform. Ie pulled up and, as luck would have it, Ria was driving. I was feeling kind of brave that particular day, and I got on at the front, just so I could really see her. As I got on, she smiled at me and said, 'goede middag' which means, 'Good afternoon,' Well, not so unusual you might think, but I knew when she said it that she recognised me. Ie was the way her eyes met mine. I don't remember much about that tram ride, I can tell you! Iinto the Lone Star Motel early that summer evening, he didn't plan to use the gun he had in his jacket. He could feel my face burning red. I was completely overcome with ie all. I kepe reliving that momentit against his chest. Ie just made him feel better, knowing it was there. But when she hadthe clerk at reception said 'goede middag' for days afterwards. Well, from then on we said hello to each other quite often. I was working towards asking her out, you know, kind of trying to find the courage. Finally, one Friday evening, I knew I had to go for it. For one thing, it was starting to look very strange, you know, me following her around like that. I didn't want anyone to think I was some kind of weird guy who follows women -- you know, a stalker or something. So this particular Friday evening T left work at six o'clock as usual, What I needed was a drink, I thought. Otherwise there was no way I could talk to Ria, not really talk, I mean. The office where I work is near the centre of the city, on a street called Korte Voorhout, so I decided to go to the Dudok. Irs a big new bar just a few minutes' walk away. A cool kind of place, if you know what I mean. A fashionable place to be seen. I sometimesthat the motel was full, something inside Joe broke. When he took out his gun and went there for a quick drink after work, just because its near the office. The Dudok was already crowded; it was a popular spot for an carly evening drink, what the Dutch call a borrel. Yeah, it was definitely borrel time. I found a place at the bar and drank a couple of beers quickly. There was a new barman there, a friendly sort of bloke who came over and started chatting, 'English, ch?" he asked. Turned out his brother had gone to work in London, I didn't have the heart to tell him Td never been there. I mean, just Heathrow airport. So I just nodded when he mentioned Notting Hill and Chiswick. 'Lovely part of London, Chiswick,' he said. 'Gorgeous,' I said. 'Another beer?" 'Er, Yd better not,' I said weakly. 'Come on,' he said. 'Its. . . how do you say it. . .? On the house.' 'Anyway, he was a friendly guy, like I said. He kept coming over to talk to me from time to time, and I kept drinking. I was thinking about whar I was going to say to Ria, to be honest, and I wasn't getting very far. After about an hour, he asked me, 'So, what are you doing all alone on a Friday evening, Harry? By then we were on first-name terms. His was Hans. Well, Id had a few beers by then, so I told him about Ria. I told him about tram eleven and the fact that fd decided to try to get to know her and to ask her out. Hans smiled at me with big round eyes. 'Oh, well, good luck, Harry? he said. 'And I hope she doesn't disappoint you. They say that Dutch women are really strong! You take care of yourself? Funny thing to say, I thought, Anyway, I had a few more beers, and before I knew it was eleven o'clock! I felt like I knew London like the back of my hand, bur that wasn't the point. The point was to talk to Ria and ask her out, I told myself, It was time to get on tram eleven. I wasn't totally drunk, though I must say I'd had enough. I said goodbye to the barman and ran off to catch tram one so that I could get on tram eleven at the Hollands Spoor Station. On the platform I stood where the front of the tram would stop to make sure that it was Ria driving, The first driver was a man, some big blond guy with a moustache, so I waired for the next. Ah, there she was! She looked as attractive as ever, with those lovely North Sea eyes. I got on at the back of the tram this time. I didn't want her to see me before I was ready, if you know what I mean. I put my tram ticket in the little machine and sat right at the back. It was late October by now and it was really cold and windy. As a matter of fact, it's always windy in The Hague. But the moon was up and it was nice and clear. I still wasn't sure how I was going to approach her but, like I said, I had to try, Well, I sat there and sat there and I couldn't think of a way to talk to her -- I mean, say more than 'Good evening.' What do you say? 'Do you come here often?" I just couldn't imagine myself asking her, if you know what I mean. Truth is, I'm not very good with women, I suppose. So, before I knew it, we were at the beach and everybody had to get off, There were about ten people on the tram, mostly people who lived up there, I reckoned, and they all got off and walked away pretty quickly. I got off quickly too so thar Ria wouldn't see me. T went and stood behind the tram shelter, where I could see her but she couldn't see me. It was obvious from the way that she collected her stuff together that she was going off duty. I tried to think of a way of hanging around for a while and kept my eye on her. Then, she said something to another tram driver who was going to take the tram back to the city centre and then she set off walking quickly in the direction of the port. Icrazy, shooting everyone dead in the reception area of the motel, he didn't know what to do, to be honest, seeing her go like that, s0 I followed her. Oh, I know it looked like I was stalking her, which is exactly what I said Iwho his victims were. He didn't want to do, But it seemed like my only choice. Like I said, love is a dangerous emotion. Well, by now the wind was blowing up a storm over the North Sea and the sky was full of huge black clouds, Dutch weather is like that old joke: 'If you don't like it, just wait a while and it'll change.' The sky reminded me of one of those paintings you see at the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam, painted by Rembrandt or Vermeer or someone. It wasn't raining yet, but it was only a matter of time. I kept quite far behind Ria, Well, I didn't have much choice, to be honest. She was a very fast walker! She kept up a quick pace along the seafront, trying to get home before the storm blew up, I suppose. I was almost running, just to keep her in sight! I suppose I was drunk too, to be honest, and it's hard to move fast when you've drunk too much. There were a few people still around, coming out of the bars and restaurants in Scheveningen and walking to their cars, or just taking the sea air. I didn't look too strange, It was about midnight by now. I was thinking to myself 'this is stupid,' and telling myself that I was a coward but, like T say, T couldn't help ir. The beach front at Scheveningen is long, and there's a kind of wide path that goes right down towards the port. That was obviously where Ria was heading, so I was thinking that she had to live somewhere near the port. Part' of the old fishing village, the original Scheveningen, is down there. So I carried on walking, following her. The weather at the beach changes pretty quickly, like I said, and, sure enough, before long it started raining quite hard, that kind of horizontal rain you get around here. I didn't have an umbrella of course, so soon I was completely soaked. After about twenty minutes' walk, we got near the port, At the beginning of the port area, there are a lot of fish restaurants and small bars. But by nowask whether they were almost all closed, and the place was nearly deserted. Ria looked round at one point, but I was far enough away that she couldn't recognize me. Then we got into the port itself. There were quite a few boats there: a few local fishing boats, and some ships with the names of English ports on them. Around the harbour itself it was pretty dark, and the only noise I could hear was the sound of Ria's heels on the pavement. Right in the corner of the harbour there's a little bar called De Hoek. It's a place where the fishermen go, and some Scheveningen locals. Td never been in there myself, though I'd heard people at the office talk about it. It had a reputation as a wild kind of place. It was still open; I could see a kind of dim yellow light and there was music and voices coming from inside. I looked at my watch. It was one o'clock! It was late, but the bar was so far away from any houses thar it could probably stay open as long as it liked, I thought. 'Anyway, Ria walked over towards it, opened the door and went right in. Odd, I thought. Did she live there, or was she just going in for a quick drink before bed? Hard to say. By now the rain had died down a bit, so I decided to wait a little longer. Well, I was already wet through so itaware that life is a precious thing, beautiful and pitilessly brief. He didn't marter. Yeah, | know it sounds crazy, but that's what Itold you. You do strange things when you'r in love. So I waited quite a while, My mind was working overtime, I canask whether they had had time to say goodbye to their loved ones, tell you. Did she live here, or did her boyftiend live here? There had to be a boyfriend. Perhaps he was a fisherman or sailor! A good-looking sailor with a sports car and a big bank account of course. That would be just my luck. So there I was, waiting. And I thought, 'Hey, I haven't got anything to lose.' You know what I mean? So what if she's got a boyfriend? It can't be any worse than standing out here, dripping wet and shivering. By now I was like a dog that had just come out of the sea. And it looked like it was going to start raining again. So I walked over to the bar and opened the old wooden door. 'The only things I noticed at first were the overpowering smell of cigars, and a fair amount of smoke. I could hear music playing too, sounded like jazz, I looked around, trying to see Ria. 'Are you sure you want to come in here?" I looked up into the face of a huge Dutch guy. He was standing right next to me blowing smoke in my face. 'Er, I'm not sure,' I answered. 'Well, decide,' he said. 'The bar was full of people, men mainly, though there were a couple of women too. I looked around for Ria, but I couldn't see her anywhere. I moved away from the tall Dutchman and pushed through the crowd towards the bar. 'As I moved through the smoke I could see a kind of stage on the other side of the room. And on the stage someone was dancing to the music. After a minute or so, my eyes got used to the smoke and the dim light, and I could see the dancer. It took me a little while to work out that she was completely naked! Well, I didn't know where to look, I can tell you. The big Durch guy was looking at me, smiling and watching for my reactions. I sort of smiled back. To be honest, I wanted to leave. I felt kind of embarrassed. But I didn't want to seem foolish or anything, so I acted like it was the most natural thing in the world. I ordered a beer, though it was the last thing I wanted, to tell you the truth. I just wanted to run out of there, Ria or no Ria. Then the music stopped and everyone clapped. 'Oh good,' I thought, 'this is my chance to get out of here.' But the music started again almost immediately and someone else came onto the stage. 'Look at this,' said the big Dutch guy, pushing my elbow. 'You'l like this! I smiled kind of awkwardly, and looked over to the little stage and at the face of the new dancer. She was wearing a bit more make-up than usual, but there was no mistaking those eyes. It was Ria! 'Well, I was shocked, I can tell you! But it got worse. The music started and Ria started taking her clothes off Everyone in the bar was shouting and whistling. Part of me wanted to leave, but the other part just made me stay there. I couldn't move. Little by litte, Ria's clothes came off until she was completely naked. And then came the greatest shock of all, because then I saw that there was something about Ria that was different. She was different from other girls. And ie wasnt only that she was a tram driver. She was aman! 'Aaagh!' I sort of screamed and moved quickly towards the door. 'See what I mean?' said the big Dutch guy behind me, laughing. I ran outside. The Dutch guy followed me, shouting, "So, you like our entertainment, do you, little English boy?" Abit rude, I thought, calling me 'litde', but I thoughe Pd lec it pass, I ran as fast as I could. I ran all the way back home. I couldn't help thinking about what Hans had said about 'strong women',them, 'I love you.' He didn't know how right he was. Yeah, there are times when life comes and grabs you by the throat. So, all that happened about six months ago. Since then,the stories that had led them to the Lone Star Morel that warm evening in late August. He didn't know that things have,were left well, calmed down a bit. I get up every morning for work and I come home every evening. I make dinner. I watch my favourite TV program on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I go out, I come in. I have a drink on a Friday night. The highlight of my week is lunch out on Sundays. OK, it's boring, but to tell the truth Tunfinished, kind of like it. Pm happy. But I'm really not looking forward to the winter.untidy. He didn't give them time to realise that the Lone Star Motel was their final destination, their end point.
CHATBOT: Summary: The narrative intertwines the lives of several characters, each with a distinct background and reason for traveling to Austin, Texas. Paul Boyle, a star footballer from England, seeks a brief escape to enjoy music in Austin after a tour in the United States. His wife, Karen, prefers to stay home to settle their children into their routines. On another front, Grace Kent, from Galveston, Texas, fakes her own drowning to escape her mundane life and plans to temporarily distance herself from her family. Colonel Tim Parker, gearing up for retirement, looks forward to attending a security conference in Austin and indulging in his hobby of bat-watching. Lastly, Joe Stefano, driven by frustration and a sense of powerlessness after losing his job in San Antonio, impulsively decides to travel to Austin without a clear plan. Their paths converge at the Lone Star Motel in Austin, a place described as evoking a sense of nostalgia and potential adventure. However, the narrative takes a tragic turn when Joe Stefano, in a moment of despair and instability, commits a mass shooting at the motel, abruptly ending the lives and unfulfilled aspirations of the characters. Conclusions: The story highlights the unpredictability of life and the fragility of human plans. Each character's journey to Austin represents a search for fulfillment, escape, or new beginnings. Their diverse motivations--from seeking leisure and career milestones to escaping the monotony of daily life or the aftermath of a job loss--reflect the complexities of human desires and the pursuit of happiness. However, the sudden act of violence at the Lone Star Motel serves as a stark reminder of the transient nature of life and the unforeseen events that can drastically alter one's trajectory. Despite the characters' diverse backgrounds and intentions, their fates intertwine tragically, underscoring the theme that life's outcomes are often beyond individual control and laden with unexpected turns.