Placeholder: [art by Peter Doig] In the cozy confines of his hobbit-hole in the Shire, from his small wooden desk, you admire the morning sunlight streaming through the window, casting a warm glow. you gazed out at the lush greenery that surrounded his home. The gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby trees, carrying with it the sweet scent of wildflowers and the distant sound of birdsong. [art by Peter Doig] In the cozy confines of his hobbit-hole in the Shire, from his small wooden desk, you admire the morning sunlight streaming through the window, casting a warm glow. you gazed out at the lush greenery that surrounded his home. The gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby trees, carrying with it the sweet scent of wildflowers and the distant sound of birdsong.

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[art by Peter Doig] In the cozy confines of his hobbit-hole in the Shire, from his small wooden desk, you admire the morning sunlight streaming through the window, casting a warm glow. you gazed out at the lush greenery that surrounded his home. The gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby trees, carrying with it the sweet scent of wildflowers and the distant sound of birdsong.

2 months ago

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SSD-1B

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7

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1024 × 1024

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[art by ALBERT BIERSTADT] In the cozy confines of his hobbit-hole in the Shire, from his small wooden desk, you admire the morning sunlight streaming through the window, casting a warm glow. you gazed out at the lush greenery that surrounded his home. The gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby trees, carrying with it the sweet scent of wildflowers and the distant sound of birdsong.
The deadline looms as the unearthly music swells around me. Another mysterious tale takes shape amid the flickering lights and scrapes of stone on stone. What monsters will crawl from the recesses of my mind this time? Mama Yaga's watching, as always, from her crooked hut in the grim forest. I can feel her beady eyes peering through the gloom, waiting to see what images I will weave with pen and ink. The pressure builds, a familiar intruder, but inspiration remains elusive. The radio spirits off
[art by Dave McKean] n the opulent chamber of the castle, the princess lay ensconced in the silken folds of her bed, the morning sun casting a golden glow upon her delicate features. Her ebony locks cascaded like a river of shadows across the pillows, framing her porcelain skin in a stark contrast of light and dark. As she lingered in the realm between sleep and wakefulness, the distant clamor by the window stirred her from her languid repose. With a languid grace, the princess rose from the bed
Deux heures moins le quart avant Jésus-Christ
In the cozy confines of his hobbit-hole in the Shire, from his small wooden desk, you admire the morning sunlight streaming through the window, casting a warm glow. you gazed out at the lush greenery that surrounded his home. The gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby trees, carrying with it the sweet scent of wildflowers and the distant sound of birdsong.
Dans Glorantha, le monde de RuneQuest et Hero Wars, les elfes, ou aldryami, sont des végétaux humanoïdes, Chacune de leurs races est associée à un type de plante ,conifères pour les bruns, fougères pour les rouges, champignons pour les noirs,highly detailed,et suit son cycle de vie,Ils ont un sixième sens hypertrophié forêt,intrinate,bioms,12k.
God, it is the beginning of the world. The Beginning of the Genesis: Adam and Even have been created few days ago, you warned them about not eating the fruits of the tree in the midst of the garden. But the snake spoke to Eve, she listened to the snake and now she is there, in front of the tree in the midst of the garden, the apple in her hand, about to bite in it.
[photograph by Frantiscek Kupka] The sun shone through the hole in the sky and began to melt the ice and snow. It made holes in the ice and snow. When it was soft, Chareya bored with his finger into the earth, here and there, and planted the first trees. Streams from the melting snow watered the new trees and made them grow. Then he gathered the leaves which fell from the trees and blew upon them. They became birds.
The hobbit's eyes grew wide as celestial stars. "Welcome, sir!" cried he, still grinning. "What brings you to this humble inn?" The elf smiled, soft as a breeze through young leaves. "I come in search of the finest brew in all the Shire. Might your skilled hands work their magic for me?" "It would be my honor indeed!" said the hobbit, and set to his task with more mirth than ever. He selected beans plump with sun, grinding and tamping with special care. Two perfect shots were pulled, and steamed
The hobbit's eyes grew wide as celestial stars. "Welcome, sir!" cried he, still grinning. "What brings you to this humble inn?" The elf smiled, soft as a breeze through young leaves. "I come in search of the finest brew in all the Shire. Might your skilled hands work their magic for me?" "It would be my honor indeed!" said the hobbit, and set to his task with more mirth than ever. He selected beans plump with sun, grinding and tamping with special care. Two perfect shots were pulled, and steamed
Original illustration by Stephen Fabian from The Scallion Stone by Canon Basil A. Smith
The deadline looms as the unearthly music swells around me. Another mysterious tale takes shape amid the flickering lights and scrapes of stone on stone. What monsters will crawl from the recesses of my mind this time? Mama Yaga's watching, as always, from her crooked hut in the grim forest. I can feel her beady eyes peering through the gloom, waiting to see what images I will weave with pen and ink. The pressure builds, a familiar intruder, but inspiration remains elusive. The radio spirits off
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