Prompt: The gentleman embraced the horizon with his elbows, his gaze stitching buttons to the clouds, wearing a hat made of sunset whispers and a coat woven with the laughter of ancient typewriters.
Prompt: At night time, blurred dark background, beautiful black shiny sports Lamborghini getting washed with water hose, parked in driveway of a beautiful single family house
Style: Photographic
Prompt: Legend painted him as a sagacious and solemn figure around fifty years of age, tall and one-eyed, wearing a wide-brimmed hat.
Prompt: Revered as a wise figure of around fifty years, tall, and one-eyed, he donned a dark gray cloak adorned with sparkling stars and a broad-brimmed, sky-blue hat reflecting the sun's glow
Prompt: There the thick darkness argues with the water; Or the sun's rays shine, Leaning through the thick air towards us; Or the tops of the fat mountains are burning; Or the zephyr stopped blowing into the sea, And smooth waves hit the air.
Prompt: There the thick darkness argues with the water; Or the sun's rays shine, Leaning through the thick air towards us; Or the tops of the fat mountains are burning; Or the zephyr stopped blowing into the sea, And smooth waves hit the air.
Prompt: The only other illumination was from a green-shaded lamp on the big glass-topped desk across the room, so that the Great Man was mostly in shadow, hands in the pockets of his crisply tailored suit jacket as he gazed broodingly out at the skyline.
Prompt: The only other illumination was from a green-shaded lamp on the big glass-topped desk across the room, so that the Great Man was mostly in shadow, hands in the pockets of his crisply tailored suit jacket as he gazed broodingly out at the skyline.
Prompt: There was an old man named John, who lived in a world that moved rapidly around him. His beautiful memories took him back to the days of his youth, when he had a dream and smiling hopes.
Prompt: In a charming town, a curious boy named Oliver stood on his tiptoes, captivated by the beauty of the sunset. The sky painted a canvas of warm hues as the sun dipped below the horizon. Mesmerized, Oliver imagined grand adventures and endless possibilities. As darkness fell, he descended with a newfound appreciation for the simple beauty around him. From that day forward, whenever life felt overwhelming, Oliver returned to the hill, finding solace in the enchanting sunset—a moment of tranquility in a world of dreams high resolution ,extreme detailed
Prompt: Masterpiece, best quality, (very detailed CG unified 8k wallpaper), (best quality), (best illustration), (best shadow), glowing sprites, with glowing Chinese dragons, drinking water in swimming pools, natural elements in forest themes. Mysterious forest, beautiful forest, nature, surrounded by flowers, exquisite leaves and branches surrounded by fireflies (natural elements), (jungle theme), (leaves), (branches), (fireflies), (particle effects) and other 3D, octane rendering, ray tracing, ultra detailed
Prompt: Logotype lion dance, combining market elements, black and white logo, illustration style, simplicity and modernity, minimalist lines
Prompt: On the vast sea, a ship was sailing slowly, and a person was looking sideways at the sea. The wind blew his hair, covering half of his face, only revealing his eyes
Prompt: Standing amid the peaks, he overlooks a landscape of a thousand hills and valleys, the scene before him surreal and dreamlike. Wisps of mist gently sway, distant peaks appearing faintly as if painted on a tranquil canvas. A gentle breeze carries a subtle fragrance of flowers, immersing him in the calm and mystery of nature. Between these vast mountain ranges, he feels a profound serenity, his heart dancing with the swirling mists as if traversing the summits of these peaks.
Prompt: [With a whispered realization of rebirth, the protagonist feels an unceasing surge of power within.] [He stands amidst the vastness of a vibrant landscape, understanding that this world offers a fresh start, devoid of the pain of the previous existence.] [His determined footsteps echo as he heads toward the distant city, a place of former dominion and impending revenge.] -ar 16:9 --seed 3402537896
Prompt: The man was exceptionally handsome and elegant. His face was radiant and clear, with eyes that held a special charm, dark in color and intense in their gaze. His beard was thick and full, adding an aura of beauty and wisdom to his appearance. His voice was captivating and articulate, expressing eloquence and wisdom.His external demeanor reflected strength of character and generosity. He possessed height and robustness, with a straight and noble posture. His silence carried dignity, and his words were pearls of wisdom flowing clearly and smoothly. He was neither stern nor dismissive but rather beloved and respected by all. He had companions who admired and served him attentively and faithfully.This man was unique in his beauty and character, combining strength and charisma, wisdom, and kindness. He was a personality unmatched in greatness and magnificence.
Prompt: In a small town, a shy musician found an old book in a shop. This book, unusual in its condition, was said to hold magic within its worn pages. With curiosity driving him, this musician took it to his attic, curious about its validity. As dusk fell, a soft glow radiated from its cover, enchanting him. His hands shook as he flipped through its aging papers. A world of music and color sprang forth, swirling around him in a wondrous display. Entranced, his timid chords soon morphed into a symphony that brought joy to all who heard it. And so, a solitary musician found a way to paint a world in sound, thanks to a mystical book that found its way into his hands.
Prompt: a man ,Step into the surreal world of a man who defies the boundaries of reality, an enigmatic figure where imagination transcends the ordinary, and the extraordinary becomes the norm. Meet the surreal gentleman whose existence blurs the lines between dreams and waking life, a visionary of a new era, where possibilities are infinite and the mind is a boundless universe
Prompt: In the hushed light of dusk, the air is permeated with a tense atmosphere. Dampness is suddenly woven into the air, as a harbinger of stunning changes. A heavy shadow spread across the sky, which, like a mask of failure, throws itself on the former harmony of the environment. Suddenly, an unknown restlessness has set out into a storm that unstoppably breaks through the blossoming silence. The sky, which had previously looked like a calm canvas, was now pouring with torrents of rain, as if expressing the same sorrow that was evident in the area below. Amidst the chaos of a blossoming natural flood, there is a sense of unforeseen trouble. The lonely image of the trees, which once stood with dignity, now became a sign of impotence before an unexpected adventure. The land that was once stable now trembles with unexpected difficulties. Nature itself seems to regret, as if whispering a sad melody about what happened. In the very center of the storm stands a lonely figure, a symbol of resilience in the face of adversity. However, even their contours conveyed a vulnerability, an awareness that trouble was tightly woven into the fabric of their existence. What was once a pictorial harmony has now turned into a canvas of failures, where every stroke bears the imprint of an unexpected fate.
Prompt: A sailor in tattered clothes fought against the waves in the stormy waves. Even though he might die in the next second, he did not flinch.
Prompt: A sailor in tattered clothes fought against the waves in the stormy waves. Even though he might die in the next second, he did not flinch.
Prompt: While you and I are alive among blood and ice, Among the oblivion of love in the weariness of labor. On our torn sleeves the swastika has decayed, It would be better to look at the clouds like fools. A transparent butterfly soul in the pollen of hopes He will rise, hurrying home, above the blackness of his clothes. Only the body spilled a glass of milk into the ground, He had so little time to look at the clouds. On pain of our own deaths in the desire to be, We are ready to shed the tears of future children over the edges. Forgive us for the weakness of our souls, for what is deep The sadness of bloody puddles, beyond the clouds...
Prompt: A cloud drifts across the sky, symbolizing the passage of time, the ceaseless flow of years.
Prompt: A cloud drifts across the sky, symbolizing the passage of time, the ceaseless flow of years.
Prompt: \"In the midst of the serene farmland, where the gentle rustling of crops harmonized with the whispering breeze, she stood with an air of tranquility. The sun painted the sky in warm hues, casting a golden glow upon the landscape. Unfazed by the ordinary, her singular focus was on the rare mineral cradled in her hands. The earth beneath her feet exuded a quiet strength, mirroring the peaceful essence of the scene. Her gaze, sharp and unwavering, delved into the intricacies of the rare mineral. Each facet told a tale of geological wonder, a hidden treasure waiting to be deciphered. The farmland, a canvas of muted greens and earthy browns, seemed to embrace the moment, creating a sanctuary of calm. In this suspended moment, chaos and disturbance were mere whispers in the wind, unable to breach the shield of tranquility that enveloped her. The ordinary elements of the farmland became extraordinary in this focused pursuit. The hands that cradled the mineral possessed both delicacy and determination, navigating the fine line between curiosity and expertise. As she stood there, the farmland bore witness to a unique fusion of nature's simplicity and the complex beauty of rare minerals. It was a tableau frozen in time, a testament to the extraordinary discoveries that could emerge from the heart of the ordinary.\"
Prompt: And passing even into my purer mind With tranquil restoration:—feelings too Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps, As have no slight or trivial influence On that best portion of a good man’s life, His little, nameless, unremembered, acts Of kindness and of love
Prompt: A man who has resisted his sins and urges and has energy and Testosterone channeling out of his heart and body into the sky as he turns into a beast of a man.
Prompt: an image described by: And passing even into my purer mind With tranquil restoration:—feelings too Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps, As have no slight or trivial influence On that best portion of a good man’s life, His little, nameless, unremembered, acts Of kindness and of love
Prompt: an image described by: And passing even into my purer mind With tranquil restoration:—feelings too Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps, As have no slight or trivial influence On that best portion of a good man’s life, His little, nameless, unremembered, acts Of kindness and of love
Prompt: He walked on the street in the rainy night, his clothes were soaked, and the cold wind was biting. He didn't know where he was going, nor where he came from. He only knew that he had lost everything, his home, his lover, his dream. He felt like a walking dead, without a goal, without hope, without meaning.He looked up at the sky, only to see dark clouds, without a trace of starlight. He looked down at the street lamp, only to see the light was dim, flickering. He felt like that street lamp, about to go out, about to disappear. He couldn't help but think of her, she used to be his light, his warmth, his everything. But she had left him, forever.He didn't know how long he could walk, nor how long he could live. He only knew that he had nothing to lose, his life had no value. He was just waiting, waiting for that moment to come, that moment, he could reunite with her, that moment, he could end it all.
Prompt: But the light gently took me on Passing through the clouds, I feel my heart filled with unsaid emotions When I notice, my cheeks feel wet from my tears Why is it that I don't wanna let go of your hand? Please, stay with me and never leave
Prompt: But the light gently took me on Passing through the clouds, I feel my heart filled with unsaid emotions When I notice, my cheeks feel wet from my tears Why is it that I don't wanna let go of your hand? Please, stay with me and never leave
Prompt: The old man sat alone at the worn-out bar, nursing his whiskey in the dim glow of the hanging bulbs. The air was thick with the smell of stale smoke and the murmur of distant conversations. The bartender, a heavyset man with a face marked by years of hard living, wiped a glass with a rag that had seen better days. The old man's eyes, weathered and tired, stared into the depths of his drink. His hands, calloused and worn, traced the rim of the glass absentmindedly. He wore a faded hat pulled low, casting a shadow over his lined face. In the corner, a jukebox played a melancholic tune, the notes hanging in the air like memories refusing to fade. The old man took a slow sip, feeling the burn slide down his throat. He glanced at the clock above the bar — its ticking echoed in the quiet of the room. A woman entered, the doorbell chiming softly. She had the look of someone who had seen her share of storms but had weathered them all. The old man's eyes met hers, and for a moment, time stood still. She approached the bar, the worn wooden stools creaking under her weight. The bartender nodded in recognition, pouring her a drink without a word. She took the glass in her hands, the amber liquid reflecting in her eyes. \"Long time,\" she said, her voice carrying the weight of years gone by. The old man nodded, a silent acknowledgment of a shared history. They spoke in fragments, words hanging in the air, heavy with unspoken truths. The jukebox changed its tune, the music now a slow dance of shadows on the walls. Outside, the rain began to fall, a soft patter on the windowpane. The old man and the woman sat in silence, listening to the rhythm of the storm. The whiskey warmed them, and the room held the secrets of a thousand stories. As the night deepened, they paid their tabs and rose from their stools. The doorbell chimed again as they stepped into the wet streets. The rain soaked through their clothes, but they walked together, side by side, the echoes of their footsteps mingling with the fading notes of the jukebox behind them. In the quiet of the night, they disappeared into the mist, two figures in the vastness of the city, carrying the weight of their shared history into the darkness.
Prompt: The old man sat alone at the worn-out bar, nursing his whiskey in the dim glow of the hanging bulbs. The air was thick with the smell of stale smoke and the murmur of distant conversations. The bartender, a heavyset man with a face marked by years of hard living, wiped a glass with a rag that had seen better days. The old man's eyes, weathered and tired, stared into the depths of his drink. His hands, calloused and worn, traced the rim of the glass absentmindedly. He wore a faded hat pulled low, casting a shadow over his lined face. In the corner, a jukebox played a melancholic tune,
Prompt: A glimmer of hope shone through the weary eyes of the young woman as she gazed longingly towards the distant horizon, her soulful expression rendered through the lens of a lomographic camera in a moody monochrome palette awakened feelings of nostalgia, longing and better days yet to come.
Prompt: /dream prompt:A train passes through spring in the distance from the village to a town with an umbrella, the sky starts to rain, a cat stand up and catches the umbrella and flies to the sky, Hayao Miyazaki's style, fully imagination, The sun shines softly through the clouds and scatters into the sea of flowers, emitting crystal clear light
Prompt: The prisoner lay with his face towards us, in a very deep sleep, breathing slowly and heavily. He was a middle-sized man, coarsely clad as became his calling, with a coloured shirt protruding through the rent in his tattered coat. He was, as the inspector had said, extremely dirty, but the grime which covered his face could not conceal its repulsive ugliness. A broad wheal from an old scar ran right across it from eye to chin, and by its contraction had turned up one side of the upper lip, so that three teeth were exposed in a perpetual snarl. A shock of very bright red hair grew low over his eyes and forehead.
Prompt: The sun, a low, golden orb, dipped towards the horizon, painting the rolling hills in a tapestry of ochre and burnt sienna. Gentle wisps of clouds, like sheep grazing in the celestial pastures, drifted across the vast canvas of the sky. Below, nestled in the crook of the valley, lay a village with smoke thing and whispy curled from thached roofs of timber framed cottages, hyperrealism, 10 second video
Prompt: A down-and-out, disheveled, middle-aged beggar with tears in his eyes and a smile on his face, raised his hands and looked up at the sky, where many gold coins had fallen, the symbol on the coin was a Brazilian real. In one of his hands he held the phone, just in time to see the side screen of the phone, which read ABC
Prompt: A conversation was a dance of dark secrets and ominous promises, leaving a man with an eerie sense of foreboding that would haunt him long after the encounter ended.
Prompt: A man, who is the astronaut, met a huge stormy planet that he never ever seen. He thought that he would die, being drawn by the storm of the planet, But he, who is a brave person, couldn't have given up. Hetried to and tried to , finally he has gotten out of it.
Prompt: My beloved,She has never seen a cloud,Her eyes are the color of clear skies,She always looks at me, Forever, looking,Never will she suddenly turn away.
Prompt: maximum realism - emerald tree absolute beauty luxury class.HD, 3D photorealism wow magically made with love
Prompt: A man, his back turned to us, flees the ravages of war, his worn attire bearing witness to the turmoil he leaves behind. Desperation etched in his movements, he sprints towards the silent solace of a waiting boat on the shore. In the simplicity of his fleeing figure, we glimpse the raw reality of escape from conflict, a silent narrative told through the urgency in his stride and the weary fabric of his clothing.
Prompt: A man, his back turned to us, flees the ravages of war, his worn attire bearing witness to the turmoil he leaves behind. Desperation etched in his movements, he sprints towards the silent solace of a waiting boat on the shore. In the simplicity of his fleeing figure, we glimpse the raw reality of escape from conflict, a silent narrative told through the urgency in his stride and the weary fabric of his clothing.
