Placeholder: [collage art by William Burroughs] In this vineyard of cacophony, the symphony of chaos plays out among the twisted vines. The clinking of glasses mingles with the discordant poetry recited by the beat poets, their voices weaving in and out of each other like a tangled vineyard maze. The electronic hum of the night is punctuated by bursts of glitched music, creating a dissonant backdrop to the fragmented conversations. [collage art by William Burroughs] In this vineyard of cacophony, the symphony of chaos plays out among the twisted vines. The clinking of glasses mingles with the discordant poetry recited by the beat poets, their voices weaving in and out of each other like a tangled vineyard maze. The electronic hum of the night is punctuated by bursts of glitched music, creating a dissonant backdrop to the fragmented conversations.

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@generalpha

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[collage art by William Burroughs] In this vineyard of cacophony, the symphony of chaos plays out among the twisted vines. The clinking of glasses mingles with the discordant poetry recited by the beat poets, their voices weaving in and out of each other like a tangled vineyard maze. The electronic hum of the night is punctuated by bursts of glitched music, creating a dissonant backdrop to the fragmented conversations.

distorted image, malformed body

8 months ago

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SSD-1B

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I thought to myself What could that mean? Am I going crazy Or is this just a dream? Now wait a minute I know I'm lying in a field of grass somewhere So it's all in my head And then I heard her say one more time
it is not there
Україно, земле безмежних полів і золотого жита, Твоя душа живе в піснях, що вітер розносить по світу. Ти — батьківщина сильних і гордих, що борються без страху, Твоє серце б’ється голосно, як ріка, вільна від кайданів. Твоя культура — мов небо, де зорі співають вночі, Твоя мова — це музика, ніжна, як весняні дощі. У кожній пісні, у кожному слові живе твій вільний дух, Україно, ти — світло на сході, і сила, що не згасне у муках.
[The Demon Project 048: from Pan's Labyrinth (2006)] a scene where sinister demons roam a dark, otherworldly landscape, their twisted forms blending seamlessly with the eerie environment. The demons, born from the depths of imagination and brought to life through digital artistry, exude a malevolent energy that sends shivers down your spine. The intricate details and haunting atmosphere evoke a sense of dread and fascination, drawing you into a realm where the boundary between reality and nightm
The road goes ever on and on, down from the door where it began
[very impressive high res masterpiece in Kodak Eastman 5247, scene by László Krasznahorkai] a landscape
Darkness fell as they entered the looming marshes. Mist curled around twisted trees like spectral fingers. Alex shivered, every cracked branch an impending threat. A piercing cry shattered the eerie quiet. They raced toward the sound, emerging in a small clearing. There, suspended above a foggy pool, hung Mikołaj - tiny fists beating futilely against thin air. Below, hulking Spas clawed his way from the water, face twisted in hunger. But Alex saw only her prey: the demon who tormented her mother
Original art by John Totleben from the double-page center spread in Swamp Thing #60, published by DC Comics, May 1987.
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.
[Tilt-Shift Photography] The world above was a distant legend, whispered among Cuties around flickering campfires. They spoke of a sun that had vanished from the sky generations ago, replaced by a colossal fungal overgrowth that blotted out the heavens. What lay beyond this fungal wasteland, none could say for certain. The world outside was a place of myths and nightmares, a place where the air didn't taste of decay, and the earth wasn't a sea of mycelium. Luna's senses were honed to perfection
[collage art by William Burroughs] So I think about vineyards. Lusher! Wilder! Whoa! Not that vibrant. set in a vineyard, the electronic hum of the night intermingles with the rustling of the vines. Collage of voices and images swirl in the minds of the poets as they gather under the neon glow of the moon. Words fragmented and rearranged like a Beatnik symphony, creating a cacophony of meaning and madness. A figure emerges, glitched and distorted, moving through the digital vines, a glitch in t
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.[Liwa Dunes] .The interplay between the local and the global is a mathematical elegance. The loca
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