Placeholder: [MARY MAGDALENE, dancing near a wishing well in the desert] Don't you think it's rather funny I should be in this position? I'm the onе Who's always been So calm so cool No lover's fool Running every show Hе scares me so [MARY MAGDALENE, dancing near a wishing well in the desert] Don't you think it's rather funny I should be in this position? I'm the onе Who's always been So calm so cool No lover's fool Running every show Hе scares me so

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[MARY MAGDALENE, dancing near a wishing well in the desert] Don't you think it's rather funny I should be in this position? I'm the onе Who's always been So calm so cool No lover's fool Running every show Hе scares me so

statue, doubles, twins, entangled fingers, Worst Quality, ugly, ugly face, watermarks, undetailed, unrealistic, double limbs, worst hands, worst body, Disfigured, double, twin, dialog, book, multiple fingers, deformed, deformity, ugliness, poorly drawn face, extra_limb, extra limbs, bad hands, wrong hands, poorly drawn hands, messy drawing, cropped head, bad anatomy, lowres, extra digit, fewer digit, worst quality, low quality, jpeg artifacts, watermark, missing fingers, cropped, poorly drawn

2 years ago

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SSD-1B

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7

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1024 × 1024

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[MARY MAGDALENE, dancing near a wishing well in the desert] Don't you think it's rather funny I should be in this position? I'm the onе Who's always been So calm so cool No lover's fool Running every show Hе scares me so
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Now within leafy groves as serene as cloisters of yore, my form slips free from dress of silk and samite, assuming nature's grace with joy's ease. Skin glows dapple-fair as forest's child, lithe limbs contouring smooth as birch limbs swollen with spring's rebirth. Tresses spill unbound, shadows rich as loam where patient roots delve deep. Eyes peek doe-like through lashes lush as fern-fronds veiling slumbering dreams beneath. Lips curve soft as floral cushions where birds might nest, breathing s
[MARY MAGDALENE, dancing near a wishing well in the desert] I don't know how to love him What to do, how to move him I've been changed, yes really changed In these past few days When I've seen myself I seem like someone else
Soon your gym garb joins the sweat-damp heap upon the floor, leaving pale curves and secret clefts painted solely by golden light. One hand lifts free glistening strands from nape, while other thumbs the catch of brassiere in practiced grace. Slow the lace peels back to spill ripe bounties free at last, crowning offerings I dare not yet set starved mouth to sup from. A sigh lifts from your lips, now free of freed of constraining silks, as sunlight's grateful praise bathes nude form in nimbus-ble
faerie young woman, 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.
[Liwa Dunes] So, my fellow seekers of mathematical truth, let us don our mathematical finery and embrace the duality of global and local. With the modulus of continuity as our guide, we shall unravel the secrets hidden within the curves and functions. With each step, we shall uncover the delicate balance between the minute details and the sweeping vistas, all while basking in the radiance of mathematical style. .The interplay between the local and the global is a delicate dance, a choreography o
[MARY MAGDALENE, dancing near a wishing well in the desert] I don't know how to love him What to do, how to move him I've been changed, yes really changed In these past few days When I've seen myself I seem like someone else
Maria Magdalena finds herself caught in a psychological thriller, where reality and illusion intertwine. She is pursued by shadows, both real and imagined, representing the demons of her past that refuse to let her go. Her journey takes her through dark alleys and haunted landscapes, where the line between dreams and reality blurs. As she navigates this treacherous path, Maria Magdalena discovers a connection to the horrors of war. The echoes of World War II resonate in her psyche, merging with
[the time of Jesus] close to the old town of Nazareth, a view on the Lake of Genesareth. a young woman in linen dress, she has her wooden rod she looks at the people down around the shore
In a desolate post-apocalyptic world, sepia women glide through swirling sand, their haunting grace echoing amidst destruction. Surrealism infuses my words as I delve into the minimalist setting, reflecting the bleak struggle for survival in a colorless, unforgiving landscape.
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