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

11 months ago

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Model

SSD-1B

Guidance Scale

7

Dimensions

1024 × 1024

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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.
The road goes ever on and on, down from the door where it began
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?
riding a bike
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.
riding a bus
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
same prompt, Aug 2025
it is not there
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
and you live in a world where all is done in Alexandrine or Haiku. This is the world of poetry and it is starting now: Awake, you find yourself in a village so small, Enveloped by the forest, nature's grand sprawl. Peasants surround you, their lives much like your own, But your heart yearns for adventure, seeds of wanderlust sown.
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