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Prompt: In a small, dimly lit room, the walls are lined with letters, hundreds of them, pinned up like a desperate archive of memories. Each one is stained with age, some with tear marks smudging the ink, others barely legible, as if the hands that wrote them were trembling. In the center of the room, an old wooden chair sits beside a cracked, full-length mirror. Reflected in the mirror is not the room as it is, but a memory—two figures laughing together, their hands intertwined in the golden light of a past summer. But the room is silent now, and in the chair sits only a worn, empty coat. A window is cracked open, letting in a cold breeze that stirs the letters on the wall, as if the words are trying to escape. Outside, a single wilted flower sits in the window box, holding on to life in the way a forgotten promise holds on to the heart. The air is thick with the ache of absence, of unfinished conversations, and the weight of everything that was never said.
Pzzz

Pzzz

Model: AYPKsNbcQQrysFFtBl6z

Prompt:

In a small, dimly lit room, the walls are lined with letters, hundreds of them, pinned up like a...Show more

Model description:

whimsical contemporary fantasy illustrations.
Width: 1024
Height: 1024
Scale: 3.5
Steps: 28
Seed: 555734616
Model weight: 1

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Prompt: In a small, dimly lit room, the walls are lined with letters, hundreds of them, pinned up like a desperate archive of memories. Each one is stained with age, some with tear marks smudging the ink, others barely legible, as if the hands that wrote them were trembling. In the center of the room, an old wooden chair sits beside a cracked, full-length mirror. Reflected in the mirror is not the room as it is, but a memory—two figures laughing together, their hands intertwined in the golden light of a past summer. But the room is silent now, and in the chair sits only a worn, empty coat. A window is cracked open, letting in a cold breeze that stirs the letters on the wall, as if the words are trying to escape. Outside, a single wilted flower sits in the window box, holding on to life in the way a forgotten promise holds on to the heart. The air is thick with the ache of absence, of unfinished conversations, and the weight of everything that was never said.
Prompt: In an empty, dimly lit room, a piano sits in the corner, covered in dust and cobwebs. A single sheet of yellowed music lies on the bench, crumpled and forgotten. Light filters in through a cracked window, casting soft beams that cut through the darkness, illuminating a few scattered, old photographs on the floor—each one showing fragments of a life once filled with love, laughter, and music. The silence is heavy, almost tangible, as if the room itself is holding its breath, waiting for a note that will never be played again. The feeling is one of profound absence, a quiet grief that echoes in the stillness
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Prompt: In a small, dimly lit room, the walls are lined with letters, hundreds of them, pinned up like a desperate archive of memories. Each one is stained with age, some with tear marks smudging the ink, others barely legible, as if the hands that wrote them were trembling. In the center of the room, an old wooden chair sits beside a cracked, full-length mirror. Reflected in the mirror is not the room as it is, but a memory—two figures laughing together, their hands intertwined in the golden light of a past summer. But the room is silent now, and in the chair sits only a worn, empty coat. A window is cracked open, letting in a cold breeze that stirs the letters on the wall, as if the words are trying to escape. Outside, a single wilted flower sits in the window box, holding on to life in the way a forgotten promise holds on to the heart. The air is thick with the ache of absence, of unfinished conversations, and the weight of everything that was never said.