Oct 23, 2026

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AI art "レトロな雀荘でのひととき" featuring #sitting, #purple hair, #Scenery, #Grey hair, #Smile, #Mahjong, #Holding, #Indoors, #Mahjong table and #Table

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レトロな雀荘でのひととき

レトロな街角の雀荘で卓を囲む姿がなんだかとても味があって好きなんです。窓の外の紅葉やネオン看板の景色も相まって、彼らの日常を覗き見しているような特別な気分になれました。気に入っていただけたら、いいねとフォローをお願いします！次回の作品もお楽しみに。

#sitting #purple hair #Scenery #Grey hair #Smile #Mahjong #Holding #Indoors #Mahjong table #Table

Published on Nov 5, 2026

hunjin

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4 people, young man, muscular, silver hair, white colored contacts, flamingo print aloha shirt, shirt unbuttoned, white shorts, knee-length shorts, waving, looking at viewer, 70s woman, elderly woman, purple hair, punch perm, pink tracksuit, tracksuit top, tracksuit bottom, 16-year-old boy, black hair, messy hair, cigarette case, holding cigarette, five fingers visible, mahjong table, mahjong tiles, playing mahjong, seated around table, mahjong parlor, cyberpunk city, autumn, midday, neon signage, from above, three-quarter view, wide shot, cowboy shot, dutch angle, holographic advertisement, window light, smoke haze, autumn leaves on street, no visible text legible From a high three-quarter angle above the mahjong table, the room opens down into a four-player hand in progress inside a cramped mahjong parlor wedged into a corner of a bustling cyberpunk street on an autumn midday. The table sits mid-frame at the bottom of the view: a green felt surface crowded with upright and fallen mahjong tiles, each player's discard row squared in front of them, four tiles of a wall half-collapsed at the center, a pair of dice resting where they landed. The parlor is narrow and low-ceilinged -- a wall-mounted scoreboard, a rack of rental tiles, a sweating glass of iced barley tea on the table's ledge, a bead curtain half-drawn on the left, cigarette haze hanging under a bare fluorescent tube. Through the front window behind the table, the street reads as a compressed band of neon: a vertical kanji sign and a holographic koi flickering above the pavement, layers of scaffolding and heat-exchange ducts, and drifts of red-orange ginkgo leaves skidding along the wet curb, morning shoppers and delivery drones passing as soft blurred silhouettes. The young man is the composition's anchor, seated at the near-right side of the table with his chair shoved back at an angle and his torso twisted toward the lens: muscular build filling the open flamingo aloha shirt, buttons fully undone down the placket so the shirt hangs in two loose panels over a broad chest and hard shoulder line, one flamingo print folding across his ribs and another disappearing under the cloth; white knee-length shorts sitting at his hips with a crease across the thigh. His weight is on his left hip against the chair, right arm lifted high and bent at the elbow, palm open toward the viewer in a mid-wave, fingers slightly apart; his other hand rests flat on the table edge beside his discard row. Silver hair short and pushed back, a faint shaved fade at the temples, a few strands falling loose over his brow. White colored contact lenses sit flat and bright against the neon spill, giving his gaze an uncanny pale stare; head slightly tilted, one brow arched, a lopsided grin splitting the right corner of his mouth as he looks directly into the lens. A sweet-smelling vapor of smoke and dust crosses the gap between the table and his face, softened where the window light catches it. The woman in her 70s sits across the table at the left, drawn up straight in her chair with both elbows planted and her hands squared around a fan of tiles, chin lifted as she studies her hand. Dense punch perm in a deep violet mass, tight coils catching the fluorescent tube; the pink tracksuit jacket zipped to the throat with the collar popped, the pants falling in a soft break over her shoes. Her gaze cuts over the top of her tiles toward the young man's raised arm, one eye narrowed. The boy sits at the far side, angled away from the lens in a half-turn, knees drawn in under the table, elbow up. His messy black hair falls forward over his forehead in unbrushed spikes; a cigarette case lies open on his knee, lid flipped back, and his right hand is lifted over it, all five fingers visible and separated as they pinch a single cigarette between thumb and forefinger and draw it out of the case, the paper catching a lit rime of light. He is looking down into the case, absorbed, lower lip caught between his teeth. The fourth player sits in the right foreground cropped at the shoulder and hip by the frame edge, back partly to the lens, one hand flat on the table steadying their tile row, their head turned so only the jaw and ear show, their body masking the far corner of the room. The young man's left hand and the fourth player's sleeve nearly touch on the table's edge. Light: the parlor's bare fluorescent tube overhead is the dominant source, cool and slightly green, laying a hard band across the table felt and the tops of heads; the front window throws a second, warmer autumn daylight in low from the street side across the young man's raised arm and the woman's perm. Smoke, dust and the neon spill mix in the air between them. In the window glass, the street's red-orange foliage is mirrored darker and softer than the leaves themselves. Layered blue-black shadows on the walls, a hot vermilion accent in the neon signage, the pink of the tracksuit and the flamingo print pulling warm against the cool room. Cinematic, lived-in, quiet fondness in the noise.

レトロな雀荘でのひととき

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