In case you have csv files and due to events or just life need to organize or move things to the cloud

A regular csv file with Python can convert to Python language and you can manipulate data

CSV looks like this
Rank,Country,Gold,Silver,Bronze,Total
1,United States,39,41,33,113
2,China,38,32,18,88
3,Japan,27,14,17,58
4,Great Britain,22,21,22,65
5,ROC,20,28,23,71
6,Australia,17,7,22,46
7,Netherlands,10,12,14,36
8,France,10,12,11,33
9,Germany,10,11,16,37
10,Italy,10,10,20,40


With dictwriter command in Python
import csv

medals_table = [
{'country': 'United States', 'gold': 39, 'silver': 41, 'bronze': 33, 'rank': 1},
{'country': 'China', 'gold': 38, 'silver': 32, 'bronze': 18, 'rank': 2},
{'country': 'Japan', 'gold': 27, 'silver': 14, 'bronze': 17, 'rank': 3},
{'country': 'Great Britain', 'gold': 22, 'silver': 21, 'bronze': 22, 'rank': 4},
{'country': 'ROC', 'gold': 20, 'silver': 28, 'bronze': 23, 'rank': 5},
{'country': 'Australia', 'gold': 17, 'silver': 7, 'bronze': 22, 'rank': 6},
{'country': 'Netherlands', 'gold': 10, 'silver': 12, 'bronze': 14, 'rank': 7},
{'country': 'France', 'gold': 10, 'silver': 12, 'bronze': 11, 'rank': 8},
{'country': 'Germany', 'gold': 10, 'silver': 11, 'bronze': 16, 'rank': 9},
{'country': 'Italy', 'gold': 10, 'silver': 10, 'bronze': 20, 'rank': 10},
]
def sort_key(d: dict) -> str:
return d['country']


columns = ['country', 'gold', 'silver', 'bronze', 'rank']

filename = 'country_medals.csv'
with open(filename,'w', encoding='utf-8', newline='') as output_file:
writer = csv.DictWriter(output_file, fieldnames=columns, extrasaction= 'ignore')
writer.writeheader()
# for row in medals_table:
# writer.writerow(row)
writer.writerows(sorted(medals_table, key= sort_key))


Where the hash tags are you can take off the last line and it does it a different way on a separate file
you load a csv file and then create a Python file

In the Eden of the forest deer formed large chains and danced for hours. Any fawn showing up became swept up into the sound and movements of the ancient deers who pranced and around to ensure most of the forest participated. Many newcomers it served as a way to teach all the deer moves one needed so when combined in a sequence you had had animated mime deer that held long conversations. Signature sequences existed and you would recognize a deer or a set of deer by their greeting or actions. It became the designated deer exchange day.

An exchange is an act of giving. It has a sequence. A sequence is an act of giving one thing you receive another thing of the same type or value. So spells became a popular way to exchange particularly with young adult deer out of fawn hood. Essentially an informal market system formed of exchange. Different deer groups were experts at spells or places. You would go visit and they would show you a spell between each other and offer it to you. (Some deer took a while to discover staying out of certain areas their spells lasted longer--when you only know one to two ways to get a spell it is precious) Or a young deer casted their only known spell and when no more exchange a veteran deer would take them to a place and show them something. Like certain areas of flowers by the pond the butterflies come very close and seem to linger and are huge. You could turn your deer body certain ways and make it appear butterflies lived amonst your antlers. So new deer would go around looking for the butterfly in the antler spell. (not a spell but a magical place in the forest)

Many such acts happened in the days of dancing deer by the hundreds.

Within a group, the dance sequence would change and you would know one of the other deer took the lead so it would flow. A visual symbol of an inner deer practice would make for a merry time.

The Lost Mask Story


Suddenly as fall approached the seams of my deer mask began to burst apart. What was once a mask became a black amorphous cloth wriggling where it should not be. You know like underneath the chin, only on the left side of the face, blowing up above my deer eyes etc. So of course in the digital age you can order masks globally.


The search began and every day my mask would unravel. Never the same seam. Sometimes one of the sides and sometimes the front on back one on so upon spelling I suddenly was like a burlesque strumpet before a performance but on my deer face not near my star on the back part. Wriggle butt I am and dance regularly by the cage, but less than 6-month-old mask should last a little longer even if wriggled in. I spell up black. I like black masks. Despite global access, all the masks being black became an issue. I spelled and got any color but black.


Every day for four days I searched for all black masks by spelling and then dipping in the lake whilst going back and trying again. The original mask I used at the ruins had gone to pastel colors and like a wedgie cut. Which is fine for swimming but when the cold wind blows up your snorting nose you need the coverage. Goose pimples on deer noses you cannot warm up in public without getting in trouble. It means endless neck rubbing outside your normal deer group which since the pandemic can be risky. Sometimes you get all heated but not in the fun way. On a cold night, pandemic heat may be useful and of course, a strategically placed hot nose might make a new friend. Everyday I experienced the wedgie as my black mask on my deer body broke seams and traveled to crevices.


Finally, I spelled enough by the lake to get an all-black mask like the Rugby teams of Australia during Haka before a game. Rough but so satisfying. In a couple of days later while playing another black mask appears. All excited I do several and find a need to have a spectrum of black masks.

today was a warm winter day. as it rained outside, dewy droplets formed on everything you could touch or see. a little earlier, when it was darker outside, i had thought the air was stigmatized; my heart inverted on itself because i saw an apparition of myself across the yard, gently tapping the undersides of leaves. i was so determined to not see my own face, that i left home early for the bus.

across the way, hoover ave, i saw my friend, nina, looking at her phone under her red umbrella. dressed in pastel, i was struck by the impulse to caress her hair, soft and hanging over her chilled cheeks. to get to the other side, it must have been my crunching footsteps that made her raise her gaze. "hey." i exclaimed, "do you have gum by any chance?" as usual, she didn't respond. instead, she curled her fingers into a bunny and reached for my hand. i don't remember getting so close, but soon i was under the umbrella as well, holding her sweaty palm.

"i didn't finish the homework." this time she did respond, "not new." "hmm." i hummed and asked, "john offered me a joint yesterday; have you tried it before?" "nah." something about the ways her fingers shifted prompted me to ask, "how did you sleep last night?" after a long pause, the bus softly rumbled as it pulled in from the distance and came to a stop. she let go of my hand and stepped onto the bus' steep platform, almost determined to get out of the drizzle. as i got on, she smiled, shook excess water off her umbrella, and said, "i didn't, really."

waiting for her to shift down the aisle, she added, "someone had their lights on all night; i was convinced it was actually the daytime; and it was so warm, too, that i had pull the blanket up till my feet touched cooler air." last night, too, i hadn't slept with a blanket over my feet, so i said, "hm, same." and settled into the tight seat next to her.