Placeholder: Todas las cosas parecen, que mueren al mismo instante, cuando la tarde agoniza, en un silencio gigante, se vuelve eterno un minuto. cualquier domingo a la tarde. Qué tristes son los domingos, al ir cayendo la tarde. toda la angustia se prende de los cordajes del aire, y el duende azul del presagio, anda el domingo a la tarde.... El hombre no es mas el hombre, es algo más del paisaje, que ni siquiera comprende, si está muriendo o si nace, si debe haber fin del mundo, será un domingo a la tarde. Todas las cosas parecen, que mueren al mismo instante, cuando la tarde agoniza, en un silencio gigante, se vuelve eterno un minuto. cualquier domingo a la tarde. Qué tristes son los domingos, al ir cayendo la tarde. toda la angustia se prende de los cordajes del aire, y el duende azul del presagio, anda el domingo a la tarde.... El hombre no es mas el hombre, es algo más del paisaje, que ni siquiera comprende, si está muriendo o si nace, si debe haber fin del mundo, será un domingo a la tarde.

@salaniz

Prompt

Todas las cosas parecen, que mueren al mismo instante, cuando la tarde agoniza, en un silencio gigante, se vuelve eterno un minuto. cualquier domingo a la tarde. Qué tristes son los domingos, al ir cayendo la tarde. toda la angustia se prende de los cordajes del aire, y el duende azul del presagio, anda el domingo a la tarde.... El hombre no es mas el hombre, es algo más del paisaje, que ni siquiera comprende, si está muriendo o si nace, si debe haber fin del mundo, será un domingo a la tarde.

10 months ago

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Model

Kandinsky 2.2

Guidance Scale

7

Dimensions

3328 × 4992

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