conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What could be a title for a story about Auckland, Zealand, Author with the genre: Literature & Fiction, Literary?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this story could be 'Every Five Minutes'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first two paragraphs for this story.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Every Five Minutes
  All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for the purpose of fair reviewing.
  I reached for the glasses that were lying on the bench between us and placed them on the tip of my nose, inclining my head so I could peer over the rims. With my right index finger poised to take notes on the imaginary pad of my other hand, I asked you,
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Since I'd come up with it, and shared it with you in one of our lighter moments, it was the name by which I liked to think of you, and the one you used when you contacted me.
  We walked back to your house where I'd left my car, thinking about the evening we'd spent with Richard and Anchali.
  It wasn't a cosmic reference, you confirmed as we walked, for she was at least the fourth wife he'd had in this human existence. You lost touch with him for a few years between Natalie and Vanda, and had an idea there could have been another in that time.
  Richard had mentioned other lives several times in the course of the evening, so I assumed he believed in reincarnation, as I commented to you.
  For the remainder of the journey, a further seven blocks, we walked in comparative silence, making just the occasional observation.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Swap the first and the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: For the remainder of the journey, a further seven blocks, we walked in comparative silence, making just the occasional observation.
  We walked back to your house where I'd left my car, thinking about the evening we'd spent with Richard and Anchali.
  It wasn't a cosmic reference, you confirmed as we walked, for she was at least the fourth wife he'd had in this human existence. You lost touch with him for a few years between Natalie and Vanda, and had an idea there could have been another in that time.
  Richard had mentioned other lives several times in the course of the evening, so I assumed he believed in reincarnation, as I commented to you.Since I'd come up with it, and shared it with you in one of our lighter moments, it was the name by which I liked to think of you, and the one you used when you contacted me.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last three paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: You have an answer for everything, I think, but instead of doing as you suggest I slide the volume under your pillow. That's the right place for it, and as I lie with my head on my matching pillow it's there beside me.
  Sleep well, Mr Chipzenburger. My friend, my lover, my mentor, my remarkable man who could make a stone into a mirror.
  Blue is for cornflowers, the sky in summer and the colour of the harbour - all of which we shared on memorable days. It is also for eyes I know still watch over me. It can be for soulful music, but it need not always be for sadness.