Placeholder: [very impressive high res masterpiece in Kodak Eastman 5247, scene by László Krasznahorkai] My sister, by the chiming kinks Of the Atlantic Ocean, takes in light. Beyond her, wreathed in algae, links on links Of breakers meet and disconnect, foam through bracelets Of seabirds.The wind sinks. She does not feel the change At once. It will take time. My sister, Stirring briefly to arrange Her towel, browns like a chicken, under fire. [very impressive high res masterpiece in Kodak Eastman 5247, scene by László Krasznahorkai] My sister, by the chiming kinks Of the Atlantic Ocean, takes in light. Beyond her, wreathed in algae, links on links Of breakers meet and disconnect, foam through bracelets Of seabirds.The wind sinks. She does not feel the change At once. It will take time. My sister, Stirring briefly to arrange Her towel, browns like a chicken, under fire.

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@generalpha

Prompt

[very impressive high res masterpiece in Kodak Eastman 5247, scene by László Krasznahorkai] My sister, by the chiming kinks Of the Atlantic Ocean, takes in light. Beyond her, wreathed in algae, links on links Of breakers meet and disconnect, foam through bracelets Of seabirds.The wind sinks. She does not feel the change At once. It will take time. My sister, Stirring briefly to arrange Her towel, browns like a chicken, under fire.

distorted image, malformed body, malformed fingers

3 days ago

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Model

SSD-1B

Guidance Scale

7

Dimensions

1024 × 1024

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stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand — How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep — while I weep! O God! Can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! can I not save One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream?
The rain came down in torrents, each droplet a tiny missile assaulting her senses. The salty spray of the sea mingled with the tears that streamed down her cheeks, indistinguishable in their anguish. Nature mirrored her own inner turmoil, a symphony of chaos echoing the tempestuous thoughts that consumed her.
Oh, surfer les vagues, c’est ma liberté, Les rouleaux me portent, je suis prêt à rêver. Gauches et droites, un ballet enchanté, Sur cette mer vivante, je suis émerveillé.
[scifi, a woman] Who was I? Where was I?… The landscape was totally unknown to me, even my body was unfamiliar. What forces brought me here? I searched my mind for memories… There was something there, but it was too clouded… A name… I scanned the horizon. A distant structure rose out of the mists. As evening approached I came upon an enigmatic oasis with a fountain.
stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand — How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep — while I weep! O God! Can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! can I not save One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream?
The rain came down in torrents, each droplet a tiny missile assaulting her senses. The salty spray of the sea mingled with the tears that streamed down her cheeks, indistinguishable in their anguish. Nature mirrored her own inner turmoil, a symphony of chaos echoing the tempestuous thoughts that consumed her.
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.
ink haiku: the post apocalyptic lacy Chinese lantern, alone in the dark of the shore, competes with the full Moon
stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand — How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep — while I weep! O God! Can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! can I not save One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream?
Even in dreams, panic crept in.
In a place where no one ever came close to dreaming about... a place from a foaming brain, there is a tiny ripple of truth that duplicates sanity to reality... existence of self-pity and triumph! This is a long gone dream in which only lost souls find mercy from a god of an insane creation! Blowing cold winds that come from an uneven breathing pattern warm the frigid core of the sun! Rotting brain from inside the brittle bone of an old branch impatiently waiting to outgrow the sky… You are lost
With a deep breath, dearie Fiona let herself be embraced by the water's embrace, her form becoming one with its liquid embrace. The feeling was ethereal, as if the lake itself was a conduit to another realm. She glided with a fluid grace, her movements a reflection of the dance she and Deery had shared in the forest. As the water enveloped her, Fiona's hair fanned out like strands of moonlit silver, creating an otherworldly halo around her. Her skin seemed to shimmer with a natural radiance
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