Placeholder: Together, they sang a new song of freedom, their voices intertwining like delicate petals of a blooming flower. The lyrics carried the weight of a thousand silenced voices, an anthem of resistance that echoed across the city, reaching the hearts of those still oppressed and yearning for liberation. Together, they sang a new song of freedom, their voices intertwining like delicate petals of a blooming flower. The lyrics carried the weight of a thousand silenced voices, an anthem of resistance that echoed across the city, reaching the hearts of those still oppressed and yearning for liberation.

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@generalpha

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Together, they sang a new song of freedom, their voices intertwining like delicate petals of a blooming flower. The lyrics carried the weight of a thousand silenced voices, an anthem of resistance that echoed across the city, reaching the hearts of those still oppressed and yearning for liberation.

2 years ago

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22h Diffusion

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Together, they sang a new song of freedom, their voices intertwining like delicate petals of a blooming flower. The lyrics carried the weight of a thousand silenced voices, an anthem of resistance that echoed across the city, reaching the hearts of those still oppressed and yearning for liberation.
Whoa! I feel nice, like sugar and spice I feel nice, like sugar and spice So nice, so nice, I got you When I hold you in my arms I know that I can't do no wrong And when I hold you in my arms My love won't do you no harm
[laughing sexy faerie with a deer] As Fiona, I feel myself drifting soft through billowing blooms of visual aid and aural ether. My slender form shimmers in gossamer raiment woven from sunshine, moonglow, and forest spirit; petal-soft hooves leave nary a print upon the stars I seem to walk. Beside me strides my Deery in dignity, his noble visage crowned with antlered emerald and bronze. Around us the glade pulses with bioluminescent being; the night is alive with pulse and song. We wander throug
alphonse mucha, surrealist and pop art illustration of a naked asian girl facing a monstrous creature with mechanical elements, divided by a vibrant color split, one side red and orange, the other side green and blue, detailed and expressive faces, dramatic and contrasting colors, bold and vivid graphic style.
Together, they sang a new song of freedom, their voices intertwining like delicate petals of a blooming flower. The lyrics carried the weight of a thousand silenced voices, an anthem of resistance that echoed across the city, reaching the hearts of those still oppressed and yearning for liberation.
[laughing sexy faerie with a deer] As Fiona, I feel myself drifting soft through billowing blooms of visual aid and aural ether. My slender form shimmers in gossamer raiment woven from sunshine, moonglow, and forest spirit; petal-soft hooves leave nary a print upon the stars I seem to walk. Beside me strides my Deery in dignity, his noble visage crowned with antlered emerald and bronze. Around us the glade pulses with bioluminescent being; the night is alive with pulse and song. We wander throug
[kupka] Wash away my troubles Wash away my pain With the rain in Shambala Wash away my sorrow I can tell my sister by the flowers in her eyes On the road to Shambala I can tell my brother by the flowers in his eyes On the road to Shambala
You say my time here has been some sort of joke That I've been messing around Some sort of incubating period For when I really come around but I'm cracking up And you have no idea No idea how it feels to be on your own In your own home with the fucking phone And the mother of gloom
Alex Maleev, unused cover illustration, 2005: [woman model in flesh] Louvre's quiet embrace, Woman echoes Aphrodite, Vulnerability. Sculpture's beauty lives, Delicate features allure, Enigmatic charm. Art and life entwine, Visitors behold her grace, Curiosity sparked. Living Aphrodite, Story untold, love's whispers, Journey unfolds true. Transformative path, Tranquil corner, soul's promise, Flame awakens bright.
Our dreams don’t belong to them
[kupka] Wash away my troubles Wash away my pain With the rain in Shambala Wash away my sorrow I can tell my sister by the flowers in her eyes On the road to Shambala I can tell my brother by the flowers in his eyes On the road to Shambala
[art by Helmut newton and David Hockney] false east, nightmare embrace, pulp sci-fi, retro, dark sci-fi, hippie aesthetic, flower power, trippy colors, tarot, macabre, pin-up girls
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