Placeholder: those of us who cannot indulge the passing dreams of choice who love in doorways coming and going in the hours between dawns those of us who cannot indulge the passing dreams of choice who love in doorways coming and going in the hours between dawns

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@l7tunv7mrtt3

Prompt

those of us who cannot indulge the passing dreams of choice who love in doorways coming and going in the hours between dawns

split image, out of frame

1 year ago

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Model

Kandinsky

Guidance Scale

10

Dimensions

912 × 608

Similar

those of us who cannot indulge the passing dreams of choice who love in doorways coming and going in the hours between dawns
I've seen the bridge that's made of glass, I've been there in my dream, a place to meet between the worlds, where life and death make peace.
I've seen the bridge that's made of glass, I've been there in my dream, a place to meet between the worlds, where life and death make peace.
My tears are like the quiet drift of petals from some magic rose; and all my grief flows from the rift of unremembered skies and snows.
those of us who cannot indulge the passing dreams of choice who love in doorways coming and going in the hours between dawns
Night in the garden of the palace of good and evil
Photo of a luminescent woman mage at night holding the moon in her hands:: eye_level perspective :: dark, CGSociety, ZBrushCentral, digital illustration, space background, 3d shading, fantasy art digital painting, digital illustration, extreme detail, digital art, 4k, ultra hd Smoke, smoke clouds, fog, mist, clouds
Cemetery with a ghostly figure looming over the scene:: hauntingly beautiful:: intricately detailed ::monochromatic color scheme:: dark and ominous
those of us who cannot indulge the passing dreams of choice who love in doorways coming and going in the hours between dawns
Cemetery with a ghostly figure looming over the scene:: hauntingly beautiful:: intricately detailed ::monochromatic color scheme:: dark and ominous
a portal to another universe,, by artist "Ingrid Umber", by artist "Sienna Lamberts"
My tears are like the quiet drift of petals from some magic rose; and all my grief flows from the rift of unremembered skies and snows.
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