conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What could be a title for a story about Yorker, Poems, Olean with the genre: Literature & Fiction, Poetry?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this story could be 'Circus Days and Nights'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first four paragraphs for this story.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Circus Days and Nights
  We have seen all the days of creation in one day: this is the day of the waking dawn and all over the field the people are moving, they are coming to praise the Lord: and it is now the first day of creation. We were there on that day and we heard Him say: Let there be light. And we heard Him say: Let firmament be; and water, and dry land, herbs, creeping things, cattle and men. We were there in the beginning for we were there in the morning and we saw the rising of the tent and we have known how it was in the beginning. We have known the creation of the firmament: and of the water, and of the dry land, and of the creatures that moved in the deep, and of the creatures that moved on the land, and of the creation of men: the waking of acrobats. We have known these things from the beginning of the morning, for we woke early. We rose and came to the field.
  Yesterday the circus pulled into town and I went to watch it. I walked over to the Circus Maximus and saw the small red car with the awning in front of it, and stood there and looked at the table under the awning, and saw the folded posters for the circus. I rounded the trailer and looked in the window; nobody in there, but coffeepots were on the stove. There were children playing on the field; young boys playing a game like soccer. I started to walk away when around the bend came a big truck with three men: a dark fat hairy man driving, a dark young sharp-nosed mustached man sitting beside him, on the back of the truck a blond young man, slim, tanned, with muscles rippling swift as lightning. Relaxedly the blond man sat on the truck, joggling as it bumped along over the ground of the Circus Maximus. The truck was full of dirt; of earth. Why does the circus need a truck of earth? They drove a little way into the field, and then the three stood on the back and shoveled the dirt onto the ground. "Terra for the piste," a watcher explained (soft earth to overlay the stony flat top of the Circus Maximus). They shoveled it off onto the ground. The blond man was an acrobat. He should have been dressed in tumbler's tights. He should have finished a flying act and taken a majestic bow. They went on laying terra for the piste.
  After a tour of the zoo, where we enjoyed the small white pony, and where we saw the five staring baby wolves—and they gave me the french word, loups (cuteau), and indicated tiny with their hands—we issued from that tent and went around past theirs to the back of the main tent, the performer's entrance, where we met William Randal, a French clown, cousin of Zavata, and Nono, the dwarf sténodactylo from a northern town in France, who, tired of life and taunts in an office, woke his parents one night when the circus was in town and said, "Please, Mother and Father, I desire to go with the circus." They cried and he cried, but he went and has seldom cried since (so beautiful is his smile and so content his soul). He is a friend of William Randal's.
  The Le Forts introduced me to another man, big and big-faced, stern and kindly, who shook my hand and said he was enchanted (and seemed to be) with an American journalist who had come to see the show. We talked of photographing the circus from the outside and at night from the inside with lights.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me three more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: All the trucks were in now. The performers had arrived, by families, and were beginning to set up their tables for the noon meal.
  A man in a well-made panama hat, his face the shape of an almond, his physique as delicate as that of a praying mantis, Baron Le Deuff, whose home was in St. Malo, traveled with the circus as paymaster, but thought of it as a sort of hobby, too. Behind his thin-rimmed glasses his brown eyes were lively and perceptive. His thin lips were made to pronounce words clearly. His French was good to hear, and his English too. He sat in the shade of William Randal's tent. Before him was a table with salad and wine, as though he were eating on the deck of his yacht.
  I stopped by a moment to see the Le Forts. They had just sat down to eat under a little canopy outside their white trailer.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last three paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The caterpillar line of trucks circled the field, as it always did, with Fritz's truck again in the lead. They would have to take a long turn through the town and circle back to the road by the sea. I watched them go, my eyes cast down to the mark of the ring on the field.
  Then I decided that at last I could swim. The fisherman saint's days were both past, and the sun was coming up bright on the beach. Fritz was first, he honked and waved. Then the red truck of Robert the chauffeur; Nono the dwarf rode in it and leaned out of the window and waved. Then one, then another, until they had all passed. Then I walked toward the shore and looked out at the sea where the sun, slowly rising, laid down a white path of light.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Add another sentence about San, Juliana, crossed, rounding, heading.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The caterpillar line of trucks circled the field, as it always did, with Fritz's truck again in the lead. They would have to take a long turn through the town and circle back to the road by the sea. I watched them go, my eyes cast down to the mark of the ring on the field. 
  Then I decided that at last I could swim. The fisherman saint's days were both past, and the sun was coming up bright on the beach. 
  As I crossed the road toward the ocean, I saw the circus trucks rounding the corner and heading north toward me and San Juliana. Fritz was first, he honked and waved. Then the red truck of Robert the chauffeur; Nono the dwarf rode in it and leaned out of the window and waved. Then one, then another, until they had all passed. Then I walked toward the shore and looked out at the sea where the sun, slowly rising, laid down a white path of light.