Placeholder: Your eyes scan the crowd, taking in the eclectic mix of patrons who have found refuge in the bar's smoky embrace. A group of poets huddle in one corner, their voices rising and falling in animated discussion, while a lone saxophonist pours his soul into the music, his notes weaving through the air like tendrils of smoke. And then, your gaze settles on her — Theresa Hak Kyung Cha, a solitary figure nestled in a booth at the edge of the room. She sits with a quiet grace, her dark hair framing a fa Your eyes scan the crowd, taking in the eclectic mix of patrons who have found refuge in the bar's smoky embrace. A group of poets huddle in one corner, their voices rising and falling in animated discussion, while a lone saxophonist pours his soul into the music, his notes weaving through the air like tendrils of smoke. And then, your gaze settles on her — Theresa Hak Kyung Cha, a solitary figure nestled in a booth at the edge of the room. She sits with a quiet grace, her dark hair framing a fa

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Prompt

Your eyes scan the crowd, taking in the eclectic mix of patrons who have found refuge in the bar's smoky embrace. A group of poets huddle in one corner, their voices rising and falling in animated discussion, while a lone saxophonist pours his soul into the music, his notes weaving through the air like tendrils of smoke. And then, your gaze settles on her — Theresa Hak Kyung Cha, a solitary figure nestled in a booth at the edge of the room. She sits with a quiet grace, her dark hair framing a fa

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

6 months ago

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SSD-1B

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7

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1024 × 1024

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Your eyes scan the crowd, taking in the eclectic mix of patrons who have found refuge in the bar's smoky embrace. A group of poets huddle in one corner, their voices rising and falling in animated discussion, while a lone saxophonist pours his soul into the music, his notes weaving through the air like tendrils of smoke. And then, your gaze settles on her — Theresa Hak Kyung Cha, a solitary figure nestled in a booth at the edge of the room. She sits with a quiet grace, her dark hair framing a fa
Amidst the swirling haze of cigarette smoke and the dimly lit corners of a bohemian bar, the groovy '60s found their sanctuary. It was a place where poets, musicians, and wanderers sought refuge from the bustling chaos of the outside world. The air was thick with anticipation as the sound of jazz mingled harmoniously with the clinking of glasses. Together, they vowed to continue their journey, to push boundaries, challenge the status quo, and capture the essence of their era. The groovy '60s wer
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Amidst the swirling haze of cigarette smoke and the dimly lit corners of a bohemian bar, the groovy '60s found their sanctuary. It was a place where poets, musicians, and wanderers sought refuge from the bustling chaos of the outside world. The air was thick with anticipation as the sound of jazz mingled harmoniously with the clinking of glasses. Together, they vowed to continue their journey, to push boundaries, challenge the status quo, and capture the essence of their era. The groovy '60s wer
So how come I feel so lonely when you're up getting down? … So I'll play along when I hear that special song I'm gonna be the one who gets it right You'd better move when you're swayin' round the room Looks like the magic's only ours tonight … But I don't feel like dancin' when the old Joanna plays
[art by Ralph Steadman] Masamune Shirow style: three agents of criminal minds FBI team, on a scene crime in a diner restaurant (women and men) ink and aquarelle drawing
So how come I feel so lonely when you're up getting down? … So I'll play along when I hear that special song I'm gonna be the one who gets it right You'd better move when you're swayin' round the room Looks like the magic's only ours tonight … But I don't feel like dancin' when the old Joanna plays
Amidst the swirling haze of cigarette smoke and the dimly lit corners of a bohemian bar, the groovy '60s found their sanctuary. It was a place where poets, musicians, and wanderers sought refuge from the bustling chaos of the outside world. The air was thick with anticipation as the sound of jazz mingled harmoniously with the clinking of glasses. They found themselves drawn to this den of creativity, their paths converging in the heart of the underground scene. They reveled in the smoky ambiance
Amidst the swirling haze of cigarette smoke and the dimly lit corners of a bohemian bar, the groovy '60s found their sanctuary. It was a place where poets, musicians, and wanderers sought refuge from the bustling chaos of the outside world. The air was thick with anticipation as the sound of jazz mingled harmoniously with the clinking of glasses. They found themselves drawn to this den of creativity, their paths converging in the heart of the underground scene. They reveled in the smoky ambiance
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