Read text VI to answer question.

The internet went into overdrive when the song "Heart on My Sleeve" first dropped in 2023. Fans were on cloud nine, fully convinced that Drake and The Weeknd had just casually dropped a surprise collaboration. Social media lit up with excitement as listeners praised the track, thinking it was another hit from two of music's biggest creators - and could a whole album be on the way?

But as the song racked up millions of streams on TikTok, the truth surfaced this wasn't a new Drake and The Weeknd collab. In fact, it wasn't them at all. The track was created by a TikTok user, Ghostwriter977, using artificial intelligence to perfectly mimic the two artists' voices. The revelation sent shockwaves across the industry, raising eyebrows and questions about the role of AI in music.

AI-generated music is a polarizing topic; depending on who you ask, it's either the next big innovation or a cultural catastrophe waiting to happen. There's no doubt that artificial intelligence is changing the music industry, but the question remains: is it a tool to unlock new creative frontiers, or is it a threat to the authenticity and soul of music as we know it?

These technologically capable algorithms compose everything from background music to full-fledged songs. Some argue it's an incredible tool for musicians and producers, offering new ways to experiment with sound, composition, and genre - even overcoming writer's block. AI can generate infinite variations of a melody, compose background scores for films, or even write lyrics based on given parameters. AI is more than just a tool for those pushing boundaries - it's a creative partner. It allows artists to break away from traditional musical structures and unlocks a world of possibilities.

But here's the flip side: AI doesn't understand human emotion. It doesn't have the lived experiences that often give music its soul. While an AI can generate a technically proficient melody, can it truly capture the emotional depth of a musician pouring their heart into a track? Critics argue that AI-generated music can feel hollow, lacking the emotion and intention that comes from a human touch. Sure, AI can replicate patterns, styles, and formulas, but does it truly understand why certain notes make us feel a certain way? Many fear that relying too heavily on AI will lead to a flood of cookie-cutter music devoid of real emotion or authenticity.

Looking out for tomorrow, what does AI mean for the future of creativity? Are we moving toward a world where algorithms outpace human artists, churning out music by the minute? This raises concerns for musicians, producers, and even DJs, who worry about their roles being replaced by technology, much like other industries where automation has taken over.

As AI continues to evolve, artists and creators will have to find ways to use AI as a tool while ensuring that the heart of music its ability to move, inspire, and connect remains in human hands. Ultimately, AI-generated music can be a powerful partner, but without careful consideration, it may turn the art of music into just another algorithmic output.

Adapted from https://council.rollingstone.com/blog/

Read text VI to answer question.

The internet went into overdrive when the song "Heart on My Sleeve" first dropped in 2023. Fans were on cloud nine, fully convinced that Drake and The Weeknd had just casually dropped a surprise collaboration. Social media lit up with excitement as listeners praised the track, thinking it was another hit from two of music's biggest creators - and could a whole album be on the way?

But as the song racked up millions of streams on TikTok, the truth surfaced this wasn't a new Drake and The Weeknd collab. In fact, it wasn't them at all. The track was created by a TikTok user, Ghostwriter977, using artificial intelligence to perfectly mimic the two artists' voices. The revelation sent shockwaves across the industry, raising eyebrows and questions about the role of AI in music.

AI-generated music is a polarizing topic; depending on who you ask, it's either the next big innovation or a cultural catastrophe waiting to happen. There's no doubt that artificial intelligence is changing the music industry, but the question remains: is it a tool to unlock new creative frontiers, or is it a threat to the authenticity and soul of music as we know it?

These technologically capable algorithms compose everything from background music to full-fledged songs. Some argue it's an incredible tool for musicians and producers, offering new ways to experiment with sound, composition, and genre - even overcoming writer's block. AI can generate infinite variations of a melody, compose background scores for films, or even write lyrics based on given parameters. AI is more than just a tool for those pushing boundaries - it's a creative partner. It allows artists to break away from traditional musical structures and unlocks a world of possibilities.

But here's the flip side: AI doesn't understand human emotion. It doesn't have the lived experiences that often give music its soul. While an AI can generate a technically proficient melody, can it truly capture the emotional depth of a musician pouring their heart into a track? Critics argue that AI-generated music can feel hollow, lacking the emotion and intention that comes from a human touch. Sure, AI can replicate patterns, styles, and formulas, but does it truly understand why certain notes make us feel a certain way? Many fear that relying too heavily on AI will lead to a flood of cookie-cutter music devoid of real emotion or authenticity.

Looking out for tomorrow, what does AI mean for the future of creativity? Are we moving toward a world where algorithms outpace human artists, churning out music by the minute? This raises concerns for musicians, producers, and even DJs, who worry about their roles being replaced by technology, much like other industries where automation has taken over.

As AI continues to evolve, artists and creators will have to find ways to use AI as a tool while ensuring that the heart of music its ability to move, inspire, and connect remains in human hands. Ultimately, AI-generated music can be a powerful partner, but without careful consideration, it may turn the art of music into just another algorithmic output.

Adapted from https://council.rollingstone.com/blog/

Read text V to answer question.

More than 58,000 Brazilians are living in Ireland with a growing number working in professional roles, a quarter having Irish partners and more than 40 per cent saying they do not intend to return to Brazil, according to a new report.

The survey, published on Friday by Brazil's embassy in Ireland, suggests 78.5 per cent of the estimated 58,500 Brazilians living in the State have arrived since 2016. Almost two-thirds came to learn English, 61 per cent had a visa specifically allowing them to study but 60 per cent have successfully changed their immigration status since arriving. The report is based on a survey of almost 4,000 Brazilian nationals living in Ireland and research work carried out by consultants.

Despite high levels of fluency in English, participation in the workforce and social engagement with Irish people, 56 per cent of the respondents said they had experienced discrimination. Brazil's ambassador to Ireland, Marcel Biato, said the findings of the survey, highlighting the "seamless" integration of Brazilian people into Irish life, was somehow a good response in a week when an unprovoked assault on a Brazilian man in Limerick made headlines. Mr. Biato said the embassy had been in touch with Brazilians living in Limerick and Irish authorities to ensure everything possible was done to counter the threat of further similar violence happening.

The survey findings suggest there has been a substantial evolution in the type of work being undertaken since Brazilians arrived in the 1990s to work in Irish meat processing plants and on construction sites. Some 85 per cent of those surveyed have higher level qualifications and a growing number work in areas such as information technology and professional services.

It found 61 per cent of Brazilians in Ireland live in Dublin, with 8 per cent in Cork. Some 16.6 per cent reported owning their own homes; a quarter said they had children, two-thirds of whom were born in Ireland. It also found that some 60 per cent of responds had a complete or strong sense of "belonging in Ireland". It also suggests that the number of Brazilian people in Ireland increased by 8,500 between 2022 and when the survey was carried out late last year.

Mr. Biato described the research as "the first of its kind, a pioneering effort to provide a detailed profile of Brazilians living in this country". He said it provided "a wealth of information about many aspects of the personal and professional lives of this population, as well as its main concerns and aspirations".

With the research suggesting more than 80 per cent maintain strong links to home or their culture, Mr. Biato said the embassy was working to support a new generation of Brazilian-Irish who he hoped would be "true ambassadors of their dual inheritance". However, he said this would happen only "if the new generation learns to value diversity and practise tolerance. This is an especially urgent challenge in the face of the threat of the normalisation of anti-immigrant sentiment."

Adapted from https://www.irishtimes.com/ireland/social-affairs/2024/04/19/

Read text III to answer question

Cross-country skiing: "It means everything. It's the whole

universe to me," says Bruna Moura

At the age of 31, Brazilian Bruna Moura realized her Olympic dream. 74th in the sprint qualifier and 99th in the individual skate, far from the top places, she was nonetheless greeted by a standing ovation at the finish. "I've been waiting for this for so long," she told Sportbladet after the sprint qualifier. "It means everything. It's the whole universe to me."

For the Olympic debut, the Brazilian slipped a photo of her best friend, who died suddenly of a pulmonary embolism, under her wetsuit. "We spoke one day. The next day, she was gone... It's still difficult... She said she'd be there when I realized my dream. It was my way of having her by my side."

More than just a result, Milan/Cortina marks the culmination of a lifetime of fighting. "We did it," she concludes.

Adapted from https://www.nordicmag.info/en/2026-olympics-cross-country-skiing-accident-heart-surgery-illness-and-mourning-brazils-bruna-moura-sees-her-olympic-dream-through-to-the-end-0212/

Read text II to answer question.

Bruna Moura nearly died trying to get to the Olympics. Now

she's back on her skis.

By Nic Zaccardi

Published February 23, 2023

Back in 2011, Moura, then 17, was a promising mountain biker. She was coached by an Olympian, competed on the junior World Cup circuit and strove to represent Brazil at the 2016 Rio Games. But a medical exam revealed a heart condition that required surgery and, ultimately, led her to cross-country skiing. The winter sport became more appealing for a few reasons.

During her recovery, Brazilian sports officials gifted her equipment for roller skiing, which cross-country skiers use for summer training. She took to it. It was also difficult to get sponsors back to return to mountain biking. Plus, her mountain bike coach was actually a two-sport Olympian, switching back and forth between mountain bike and cross-country skiing.

In 2015, Moura competed at the world junior championship in biathlon. Later that year, she entered her first international race in cross-country skiing, where Olympic qualifying is slightly easier for non-traditional winter sports nations.

She competed in her first world championship in cross-country skiing in 2017 and by January 2022 was in contention for the second and last Brazil women's Olympic berth. At the last qualifying event in Switzerland, she finished her race and called her partner, Dutchman Pascal Luiten, who tracked the live results and told her she earned the Beijing Olympic spot. "I started crying and jumping," Moura said. "It was really, really, let's say a fantastic day."

Two days later, Moura tested positive for COVID-19 with symptoms that were not life-threatening. She quarantined in Austria for 10 days and changed her itinerary to get from Europe to China. On Jan. 27th, she could leave. She booked a van through a car service to take her, and her ski equipment, about four hours north to Munich, where she planned to stay a few nights before flying to Beijing. Moura woke up around 5 a.m. to wipe down the room in the house where she quarantined. The van arrived at 7. She learned from text messages that the driver was a Russian named Yevgeny who lived in Berlin.

She remembers details about that morning that altered their estimated arrival time. Yevgeny at first parked behind the house, but she needed him to be in the front where her three large bags were. The GPS had to correct after they took the wrong street leaving the Austrian town.

Yevgeny drove fast enough that Moura became afraid and instinctively looked for the seatbelt. She said that, growing up in Brazil, she always made sure that everybody had their belts on before starting the car. On this morning, she did not initially follow her own advice. Minutes into the trip, she looked at the loose belt and thought: "Do I wear it, or not because the way he's driving?" she recalled a year later. "Maybe if I do not wear it, I have time to react, open the door and jump. That's crazy thoughts of course. But that's what I thought at the moment. Then I put it on and tried to sleep."

About an hour later, Moura woke up. The van was still. "I was scared," she said. "I opened my eye, and I remember thinking to myself, 'You were sleeping. You are waking up now.'... I saw so many people around me, and I did not understand anything because I did not remember anything when I saw them. I got scared, like what the hell is happening here? And then all the pain started, and it was hard to breathe."

Images showed the van up against a guard rail. The windshield and everything below it was mangled, the van's insides and one tire spilled into the side of a two-lane road. On the other side of the road, a large truck lay on its side.

A medical helicopter took Moura to a hospital. She broke an arm in three places, had three broken ribs, lung damage and a broken left foot. When she was stabilized, they brought her to a room. She remembers an old woman entered and told her what had happened, a few hours after the accident. "Until then, I didn't know anything," Moura said. "You had a collision with a truck," Moura was told. "There was nothing to do for the driver. He died with the impact."

After two surgeries, she was discharged the next week and taken 11 hours by ambulance taxi to the Netherlands, where she lives with Luiten. They rented a hospital bed and put it in the living room. The first night was the worst. "All night it was just moaning from pain," said Luiten, who slept on a couch in the room. "That did not stop until the morning." She was prescribed stronger medication the next day. That's about the time the Olympics began. "I wanted to watch it," she said. "At first, it was not easy. The Opening Ceremony was like a punch in my face."

Luiten said they watched the Games on TV all day every day. "It was mostly a matter of trying to enjoy the fact that people were visiting her, caring about her, and there were sports to watch as a distraction," he said. "Trying to get her mind off the pain, especially at night."

She spent most of her time in bed for those first three weeks, the rest in a wheelchair. She began walking, first with crutches, and then, two months after the accident, on her own. By August, she began roller skiing again. She was determined to ski on snow, though her foot still hurt. "I was already aiming at 2026," she said. "Yeah, it hurts like hell now, but it will not stay like this forever."

Also that summer, she began working at a bike shop and then taking kickboxing classes. Co-workers learned her story and set up a Gofundme page to aid with the costs of becoming an international athlete again.

In the fall, Moura ran for the first time since the accident. Late last month, she skied on snow for the first time in a year. Then two weeks ago, she traveled back to Austria, to the same place where she quarantined a year ago. On a bus, she passed by the site of the accident and shared the video on her Instagram story. The 2026 Winter Olympic cross-country skiing races will be about 50 miles south of where last year's tragedy occurred.

Moura said she asks herself daily why she continues this pursuit, which began as a mountain biker more than a decade ago. "When I decided to become an athlete, I decided that I wanted to get to the highest I could," she said. "When you are an athlete, the highest you can get is the Olympics."

Adapted from https://www.nbcsports.com/olympics/news/bruna-moura-cross-country-skiing-brazil

Read text II to answer question.

Bruna Moura nearly died trying to get to the Olympics. Now

she's back on her skis.

By Nic Zaccardi

Published February 23, 2023

Back in 2011, Moura, then 17, was a promising mountain biker. She was coached by an Olympian, competed on the junior World Cup circuit and strove to represent Brazil at the 2016 Rio Games. But a medical exam revealed a heart condition that required surgery and, ultimately, led her to cross-country skiing. The winter sport became more appealing for a few reasons.

During her recovery, Brazilian sports officials gifted her equipment for roller skiing, which cross-country skiers use for summer training. She took to it. It was also difficult to get sponsors back to return to mountain biking. Plus, her mountain bike coach was actually a two-sport Olympian, switching back and forth between mountain bike and cross-country skiing.

In 2015, Moura competed at the world junior championship in biathlon. Later that year, she entered her first international race in cross-country skiing, where Olympic qualifying is slightly easier for non-traditional winter sports nations.

She competed in her first world championship in cross-country skiing in 2017 and by January 2022 was in contention for the second and last Brazil women's Olympic berth. At the last qualifying event in Switzerland, she finished her race and called her partner, Dutchman Pascal Luiten, who tracked the live results and told her she earned the Beijing Olympic spot. "I started crying and jumping," Moura said. "It was really, really, let's say a fantastic day."

Two days later, Moura tested positive for COVID-19 with symptoms that were not life-threatening. She quarantined in Austria for 10 days and changed her itinerary to get from Europe to China. On Jan. 27th, she could leave. She booked a van through a car service to take her, and her ski equipment, about four hours north to Munich, where she planned to stay a few nights before flying to Beijing. Moura woke up around 5 a.m. to wipe down the room in the house where she quarantined. The van arrived at 7. She learned from text messages that the driver was a Russian named Yevgeny who lived in Berlin.

She remembers details about that morning that altered their estimated arrival time. Yevgeny at first parked behind the house, but she needed him to be in the front where her three large bags were. The GPS had to correct after they took the wrong street leaving the Austrian town.

Yevgeny drove fast enough that Moura became afraid and instinctively looked for the seatbelt. She said that, growing up in Brazil, she always made sure that everybody had their belts on before starting the car. On this morning, she did not initially follow her own advice. Minutes into the trip, she looked at the loose belt and thought: "Do I wear it, or not because the way he's driving?" she recalled a year later. "Maybe if I do not wear it, I have time to react, open the door and jump. That's crazy thoughts of course. But that's what I thought at the moment. Then I put it on and tried to sleep."

About an hour later, Moura woke up. The van was still. "I was scared," she said. "I opened my eye, and I remember thinking to myself, 'You were sleeping. You are waking up now.'... I saw so many people around me, and I did not understand anything because I did not remember anything when I saw them. I got scared, like what the hell is happening here? And then all the pain started, and it was hard to breathe."

Images showed the van up against a guard rail. The windshield and everything below it was mangled, the van's insides and one tire spilled into the side of a two-lane road. On the other side of the road, a large truck lay on its side.

A medical helicopter took Moura to a hospital. She broke an arm in three places, had three broken ribs, lung damage and a broken left foot. When she was stabilized, they brought her to a room. She remembers an old woman entered and told her what had happened, a few hours after the accident. "Until then, I didn't know anything," Moura said. "You had a collision with a truck," Moura was told. "There was nothing to do for the driver. He died with the impact."

After two surgeries, she was discharged the next week and taken 11 hours by ambulance taxi to the Netherlands, where she lives with Luiten. They rented a hospital bed and put it in the living room. The first night was the worst. "All night it was just moaning from pain," said Luiten, who slept on a couch in the room. "That did not stop until the morning." She was prescribed stronger medication the next day. That's about the time the Olympics began. "I wanted to watch it," she said. "At first, it was not easy. The Opening Ceremony was like a punch in my face."

Luiten said they watched the Games on TV all day every day. "It was mostly a matter of trying to enjoy the fact that people were visiting her, caring about her, and there were sports to watch as a distraction," he said. "Trying to get her mind off the pain, especially at night."

She spent most of her time in bed for those first three weeks, the rest in a wheelchair. She began walking, first with crutches, and then, two months after the accident, on her own. By August, she began roller skiing again. She was determined to ski on snow, though her foot still hurt. "I was already aiming at 2026," she said. "Yeah, it hurts like hell now, but it will not stay like this forever."

Also that summer, she began working at a bike shop and then taking kickboxing classes. Co-workers learned her story and set up a Gofundme page to aid with the costs of becoming an international athlete again.

In the fall, Moura ran for the first time since the accident. Late last month, she skied on snow for the first time in a year. Then two weeks ago, she traveled back to Austria, to the same place where she quarantined a year ago. On a bus, she passed by the site of the accident and shared the video on her Instagram story. The 2026 Winter Olympic cross-country skiing races will be about 50 miles south of where last year's tragedy occurred.

Moura said she asks herself daily why she continues this pursuit, which began as a mountain biker more than a decade ago. "When I decided to become an athlete, I decided that I wanted to get to the highest I could," she said. "When you are an athlete, the highest you can get is the Olympics."

Adapted from https://www.nbcsports.com/olympics/news/bruna-moura-cross-country-skiing-brazil

Read text II to answer question.

Bruna Moura nearly died trying to get to the Olympics. Now

she's back on her skis.

By Nic Zaccardi

Published February 23, 2023

Back in 2011, Moura, then 17, was a promising mountain biker. She was coached by an Olympian, competed on the junior World Cup circuit and strove to represent Brazil at the 2016 Rio Games. But a medical exam revealed a heart condition that required surgery and, ultimately, led her to cross-country skiing. The winter sport became more appealing for a few reasons.

During her recovery, Brazilian sports officials gifted her equipment for roller skiing, which cross-country skiers use for summer training. She took to it. It was also difficult to get sponsors back to return to mountain biking. Plus, her mountain bike coach was actually a two-sport Olympian, switching back and forth between mountain bike and cross-country skiing.

In 2015, Moura competed at the world junior championship in biathlon. Later that year, she entered her first international race in cross-country skiing, where Olympic qualifying is slightly easier for non-traditional winter sports nations.

She competed in her first world championship in cross-country skiing in 2017 and by January 2022 was in contention for the second and last Brazil women's Olympic berth. At the last qualifying event in Switzerland, she finished her race and called her partner, Dutchman Pascal Luiten, who tracked the live results and told her she earned the Beijing Olympic spot. "I started crying and jumping," Moura said. "It was really, really, let's say a fantastic day."

Two days later, Moura tested positive for COVID-19 with symptoms that were not life-threatening. She quarantined in Austria for 10 days and changed her itinerary to get from Europe to China. On Jan. 27th, she could leave. She booked a van through a car service to take her, and her ski equipment, about four hours north to Munich, where she planned to stay a few nights before flying to Beijing. Moura woke up around 5 a.m. to wipe down the room in the house where she quarantined. The van arrived at 7. She learned from text messages that the driver was a Russian named Yevgeny who lived in Berlin.

She remembers details about that morning that altered their estimated arrival time. Yevgeny at first parked behind the house, but she needed him to be in the front where her three large bags were. The GPS had to correct after they took the wrong street leaving the Austrian town.

Yevgeny drove fast enough that Moura became afraid and instinctively looked for the seatbelt. She said that, growing up in Brazil, she always made sure that everybody had their belts on before starting the car. On this morning, she did not initially follow her own advice. Minutes into the trip, she looked at the loose belt and thought: "Do I wear it, or not because the way he's driving?" she recalled a year later. "Maybe if I do not wear it, I have time to react, open the door and jump. That's crazy thoughts of course. But that's what I thought at the moment. Then I put it on and tried to sleep."

About an hour later, Moura woke up. The van was still. "I was scared," she said. "I opened my eye, and I remember thinking to myself, 'You were sleeping. You are waking up now.'... I saw so many people around me, and I did not understand anything because I did not remember anything when I saw them. I got scared, like what the hell is happening here? And then all the pain started, and it was hard to breathe."

Images showed the van up against a guard rail. The windshield and everything below it was mangled, the van's insides and one tire spilled into the side of a two-lane road. On the other side of the road, a large truck lay on its side.

A medical helicopter took Moura to a hospital. She broke an arm in three places, had three broken ribs, lung damage and a broken left foot. When she was stabilized, they brought her to a room. She remembers an old woman entered and told her what had happened, a few hours after the accident. "Until then, I didn't know anything," Moura said. "You had a collision with a truck," Moura was told. "There was nothing to do for the driver. He died with the impact."