Placeholder: La course à l'échalote: sounds like music to my ears La course à l'échalote: sounds like music to my ears

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@generalpha

Prompt

La course à l'échalote: sounds like music to my ears

1 year ago

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Model

SSD-1B

Guidance Scale

7

Dimensions

1024 × 1024

Similar

Did you find your directing sign On the straight and narrow highway Would you mind a reflecting sign? Just let it shine within your mind
As you walk deeper into the forest, the sunlight filters through the canopy of leaves above, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. The air is cool and crisp, filled with the scent of pine needles and damp earth. You feel a sense of peace wash over you, a feeling of belonging in this natural world. You pause for a moment, taking in your surroundings. The forest is alive with the sounds of birds chirping and insects buzzing. The trunks of the trees are covered in a soft layer of moss, and
Gladesong Under rising sun's largesse the wood awakens around us, shadows dancing back beneath each bole and fronded veil. From loamy breaths steams sweet incense as droplets riding bark and branch, signaling creatures great and small rousing their voices clear and piping to the rapturous hymn weaving all in emerald glory.
The distance between cities A and B is 40 km. Two cyclists leave respectively from A and B simultaneously towards one another, one with speed 10 km/h and the other with speed 15 km/h. A fly flies out with the first cyclist from A with the speed of 100km/h, reaches the second, touches his forehead and flies back to the first, touches his forehead, returnes to the second, and so on until the cyclists’ foreheads collide and squash the fly. How many kilometers altogether has the fly flown?
Through the thick woods you stride, their splendor profound, Senses awash with grandeur, emotions tightly wound. Leaving home and loved ones, a painful farewell, But vengeance ignites within, a tale to tell. Determined you stand, seeking justice for your guide, Embarking on a journey where fate will decide. Thrills course through your veins, uncertainty in the air, A mix of emotions, a blend beyond compare.
same prompt, Aug 2025
it is not there
riding a bus
[very impressive high res masterpiece in Kodak Eastman 5247, scene by László Krasznahorkai] a landscape
The road goes ever on and on, down from the door where it began
Rest is now filled full of beauty, And can give thee up, I ween; Come thou forth, for other duty: Motion pineth for her queen. Or, if needing years to wake thee From thy slumbrous solitudes, Come, sleep-walking, and betake thee To the friendly, sleeping woods. Sweeter dreams are in the forest; Round thee storms would never rave; And when need of rest is sorest, Glide thou then into thy cave. Or, if still thou choosest rather Marble, be its spell on me; Let thy slumber round me gather, Let an
Behind, the plates and pins bear witness like the trees of older groves. But you pay them no more mind than the motors' hums and grunts, eyes only for the vision in your thrall. And me, pressed flat against the mirrored wall with lens a-flutter - sure I'll leave an outlined ghost upon the fogged glass if I don't find release soon! Each calculated step brings your heat skating nearer, bare soles padding o'er rubber worn smooth by countless trials. The tile's your stage, this steam your shroud, an
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