conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a description for a book titled Ghost Moon about Set, Louisiana, I>Ghost with the genre: Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Set in rural Louisiana, the author's <I>Ghost Moon</I> finds prodigal daughter Olivia Martin returning home to reconcile with her stepfamily. Her sudden arrival after nearly a decade throws the family into a tizzy, and sets off her grandfather's heart attack. With entrances like this, you know the drama won't be skimpy.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first five paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Ghost Moon
  Her nights were spent at the bakery table, answering advertisements in her own best handwriting, and doing more typing practice. Last thing, and when she had the energy, she'd add a few sentences to her current letter to Michael. Trams, telephone calls, letters, newspapers. Being unemployed was a full-time job. And exhausting. And expensive.
  The closer it came to Christmas, the fewer were the employers looking to take on new staff. But Maggie kept trying. Kept phoning and being put on hold, kept being told the vacancy was already filled, being told they were looking for someone younger, or someone older. Or else they wanted a man. A bloody man – the answer to everyone's problems, according to Jean. Doggedly, rain or shine, she tramped around the city centre – George St, Hanover St, Frederick St, Castle St, the West End, the New Town... She went in and out of wood-panelled offices, some with fresh cut flowers in their reception rooms and views over Queen St Gardens; elsewhere she laboured up and down narrow and uncarpeted stairs, found herself shown into forlorn offices with grubby skylights, plasterboard partitions and audible plumbing.
  Christmas brought a card and a small cake from Jean, and a card came from Michael – My Xmas wish is that we were together had been inscribed below the festive greetings in Lachlan's neat handwriting. She put his card next to the photograph he'd sent her in an earlier letter – a snap of himself as a soldier, standing next to an army lorry covered in mud except for where the sweep of its single wiper had kept the windscreen clear enough to see through. Beside him there was a road sign: BERLIN 867 Kms. The photograph always confused her, it wasn't the man she knew – his blindness, his dependence. Not even the handwriting on the card was his. Years ago, when the photograph was taken, she'd still have been living in her parents' house doing her best to get through the war. Re-reading Michael's letters, which she did, they often seemed written to another Maggie altogether, one who lived a completely different life. Briefly, as she read, she'd let herself become this other woman, allowing herself to feel loved and cherished and to believe that everything would end happily. This happy-ever-after Maggie didn't have to struggle through every day, there seemed to be no loneliness in her life, no exhaustion. Clearly she never wept.
  It was getting on for midnight when she left the bakery to make her way to her sister-in-law's flat in the nearby colonies, just off Haymarket. After the bells rang out the New Year the small flat began filling up with neighbours come to first foot. Then the dancing began. An hour after she'd arrived her brother Billy still hadn't acknowledged her, let alone spoken to her. She'd caught him glancing over a couple of times, only to see him immediately turn away. Finally he came across:
  Twice on her way home she was grabbed and given a New Year's kiss. Then, just as she was turning into her own side street, a group of first-footers called to her from the opposite pavement: 'Happy New Year! Happy New Year!'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Zimmering full-speed out of your bedroom door, down the corridor, round the corner, across the hall and into the dayroom. Your usual seat in its usual place in the line against the wall. You sit down just in time. Closing your eyes, you feel the sun edging its way onto your cheek. Its warmth flowing across your face, your eyelids, your cheeks, touching your lips, your neck... soaking into you.
  More. More. You want more.
  The sun is all that matters now, holding you safe and secure before it moves on. Till then, you can give yourself completely to its touch, its warm and loving touch. Like Michael's. These sighs of contentment are the thanks you offer in return.
  STANDING MOTIONLESS BESIDE Tom's empty cot, her face buried in his patchwork quilt, breathing in his baby-smell. Drawing in its sweetness, breathing it deep inside her...
  No idea? Without meaning to, Maggie ripped the small patchwork quilt in two and then, the torn pieces still in her hands, she all but collapsed against the empty cot. She was suddenly exhausted.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Add another sentence about flooding, drenching.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Zimmering full-speed out of your bedroom door, down the corridor, round the corner, across the hall and into the dayroom. Your usual seat in its usual place in the line against the wall. You sit down just in time. Closing your eyes, you feel the sun edging its way onto your cheek. Its warmth flowing across your face, your eyelids, your cheeks, touching your lips, your neck... soaking into you. 
  More. More. You want more. You want to feel that warmth flooding into you, drenching your whole body. 
  The sun is all that matters now, holding you safe and secure before it moves on. Till then, you can give yourself completely to its touch, its warm and loving touch. Like Michael's. These sighs of contentment are the thanks you offer in return. 
  STANDING MOTIONLESS BESIDE Tom's empty cot, her face buried in his patchwork quilt, breathing in his baby-smell. Drawing in its sweetness, breathing it deep inside her... 
  No idea? Without meaning to, Maggie ripped the small patchwork quilt in two and then, the torn pieces still in her hands, she all but collapsed against the empty cot. She was suddenly exhausted.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: You're feeling very tired suddenly. A very pleasant tiredness, as though you were already half-asleep —
  An hour later you've written your reply, sealed the envelope and stamped it. If you leave now, you will be in time to catch the post. The sooner the letter goes, the better.
  Last thing, you glance in the hall mirror to check your appearance. A dab of powder, a quick touch of lipstick.
  The buttons of your coat fastened up and your hat straightened, you give yourself a smile. You've written to Michael for the last time. You've dried your tears. You have made your decision and will stick to it. You will manage, somehow. The door pulled shut, you start off down the front path.
  A gust of wind sets the fallen leaves swirling around your feet, and when you scoop up a handful to scatter over his head Tom tries grabbing them as they tumble all about him. He's laughing and squealing.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: He's laughing and squealing..
  A gust of wind sets the fallen leaves swirling around your feet, and when you scoop up a handful to scatter over his head Tom tries grabbing them as they tumble all about him. The door pulled shut, you start off down the front path. You will manage, somehow. You have made your decision and will stick to it. You've dried your tears. You've written to Michael for the last time.
  The buttons of your coat fastened up and your hat straightened, you give yourself a smile. A dab of powder, a quick touch of lipstick.
  Last thing, you glance in the hall mirror to check your appearance. The sooner the letter goes, the better. If you leave now, you will be in time to catch the post. A very pleasant tiredness, as though you were already half-asleep —
  An hour later you've written your reply, sealed the envelope and stamped it.You're feeling very tired suddenly