Placeholder: [colour illustration by Junji] In the heart of the night, a melody flows, Maryam sings softly, where the river glows. Ali's ballads rise like the sun's golden hue, Romance in his words, timeless and true. Omer's rhythms dance through the warm desert breeze, Stories of culture, carried with ease. Together they weave a rich, vibrant song, In the language of souls where we all belong. [colour illustration by Junji] In the heart of the night, a melody flows, Maryam sings softly, where the river glows. Ali's ballads rise like the sun's golden hue, Romance in his words, timeless and true. Omer's rhythms dance through the warm desert breeze, Stories of culture, carried with ease. Together they weave a rich, vibrant song, In the language of souls where we all belong.

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[colour illustration by Junji] In the heart of the night, a melody flows, Maryam sings softly, where the river glows. Ali's ballads rise like the sun's golden hue, Romance in his words, timeless and true. Omer's rhythms dance through the warm desert breeze, Stories of culture, carried with ease. Together they weave a rich, vibrant song, In the language of souls where we all belong.

distorted image, malformed body

8 months ago

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SSD-1B

Guidance Scale

7

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1024 × 1024

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[colour illustration by Yazan Halwani] In the heart of the night, a melody flows, Maryam sings softly, where the river glows. Ali's ballads rise like the sun's golden hue, Romance in his words, timeless and true. Omer's rhythms dance through the warm desert breeze, Stories of culture, carried with ease. Together they weave a rich, vibrant song, In the language of souls where we all belong.
[colour illustration by Yazan Halwani] arabic rock, songs and hard music: In the heart of the night, a melody flows, Maryam sings softly, where the river glows. Ali's ballads rise like the sun's golden hue, Romance in his words, timeless and true. Omer's rhythms dance through the warm desert breeze, Stories of culture, carried with ease. Together they weave a rich, vibrant song, In the language of souls where we all belong.
Stephen Fabian “The Dream of X” Illustration Original Art (Donald M. Grant, 1977)
My art is like the spontaneous prose of a midnight jazz session, flowing freely and unapologetically. The critics may chatter like ghosts in the night, but my brush is a beacon of light in the darkness of conformity. My creations, born from the depths of my imagination, defy the constraints of tradition and soar into realms unknown. Each stroke is a rebellion against the mundane, a declaration of my artistic spirit unfettered by the chains of expectation.
[poster by René Gruau] Ostara (in American Gods) Colourfully encounter in the desert
an Arabic wanderer, a Dharma Bum of the desert, lost amidst the towering trees and tangled undergrowth of a mysterious forest. Clad in his traditional kandura and cheich, symbols of his heritage and identity, the Arabic wanderer stands at a crossroads of worlds, his eyes reflecting the flickering shadows of the forest canopy above.
[in the desert] The sacred knowledge runs your mind in a torrent of visions and sensations. You see the birth and death of stars, the rise and fall of civilizations, the intricate dance of life and death that underlies all existence beyond the physical realm, connecting with the great cosmic web of life. The boundaries between your self and the universe dissolve, and you find yourself floating in a state of pure consciousness. You experience the thoughts and feelings of every living being on thi
an Arabic woman wanderer, a female Dharma Bum of the desert, smiling but lost amidst the towering trees and tangled undergrowth of a mysterious forest. Clad in her traditional revealing Abaya and expensive headscarf, symbols of his heritage and identity, the Arabic wanderer stands at a crossroads of worlds, her eyes reflecting the flickering shadows of the forest canopy above.
[poster by René Gruau] Ostara (in American Gods) Colourfully encounter in the desert
Comme une pierre que l'on jette dans l'eau vive d'un ruisseau Qui laisse derrière elle des milliers de ronds dans l'eau Comme un manège de lune avec ses chevaux d'étoiles Comme un anneau de Saturne, un ballon de carnaval Comme le chemin de ronde que font sans cesse les heures Le voyage autour du monde d'un tournesol dans sa fleur Tu fais tourner de ton nom tous les moulins de mon cœur
With her eyes closed, Fiona felt the currents gently guide her, their gentle touch echoing the rhythm of her heart. The moon above seemed to pulse with each beat, as if the world itself was attuned to her presence. She reveled in this moment of serenity, feeling the weight of the world lift from her shoulders, leaving behind only the sensation of water's tender embrace. Meanwhile, on the bank of the lake, Deery watched Fiona with an expression of sheer wonder. The deer's opalescent fur glistene
Let no moon Creep up the heaven to-night. I in darksome noon Walking hopefully, Seek my shrouded light— Grope for thee! Darker grow The borders of the dark! Through the branches glow! From the roof above, Star and diamond-spark, Light for love.
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