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AI art "Sometimes, I find myself wondering..."
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Sometimes, I find myself wondering...

Has someone who has relied on me for so long reached a point where they can no longer turn to me, perhaps quietly growing more and more depressed on their own? I wonder whether, because our views differed, I may have dismissed or suppressed their feelings. After all, that is no way to be a good friend. But changes like these are often only recognized in hindsight. Unless we are constantly mindful of how the other person is feeling, it is difficult to notice them in time to do anything about it. And if we forget even for a moment that such a possibility exists, we may end up losing someone we hold dear.

#Tränen#sitzend#Himmel#Im Freien#lange Haare#Solo#Nach unten schauen#Schwarze Haare#Blut#traurig#Gras#Mantel#Wolke#Nacht#Lange Ärmel#Feuer#1 Mädchen#halten#Ganzkörper#Weinend#bewölkter Himmel#Mittellanges Haar#Lagerfeuer
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1girl, solo, young woman, late twenties, thin, pale skin, dark circles under eyes, cracked lips, tangled damp black hair, oversized dusty coat, frayed hem, bare blistered feet, dirty blood-stained bandages, collapsed sitting, knees pulled to chest, hugged knees, hunched shoulders, holding chipped empty bowl with both hands, cold soup, meat on small plate, dead campfire ashes, muddy ground, vast empty Mongolian steppe, blue hour dusk, heavy overcast sky, thick cold fog, wide low-angle shot from slightly in front, from below, figure very small, negative space, deserted landscape, pristine unmarked grass, smooth untracked mud, featureless dark horizon, hollow expressionless face, tear-stained vacant eyes looking down at bowl, bowl as focus, collapsed canvas tent, fallen wooden sign half buried in mud, illegible lettering, Seen in a wide low-angle view from slightly in front, the woman sits collapsed alone on the cold mud of an enormous empty Mongolian steppe at blue-hour dusk, reduced to a tiny hunched shape against the endless land and a great deal of empty gray-blue space. Her knees are locked tight to her chest, her shoulders folded forward, both hands wrapped around a chipped empty bowl that anchors the center of the frame. Her hollow face is blank after too much crying, and her vacant, tear-stained eyes drop to the bowl. Beside her, a small plate of untouched cold soup and meat rests by the cold ashes of a dead campfire; behind her, a torn canvas tent has fallen in on itself, and a wooden sign lies half sunk in mud with its lettering worn illegible. Thick cold fog hangs over pristine unmarked grass and smooth untracked mud, and the horizon stays dark, empty, and featureless; the landscape holds only her. Under a heavy overcast twilight sky, dim cold diffused light drains the warmth from everything and leaves soft flat shadows around her and the dead Sartre. Absolute loneliness, and the pain that will not heal.
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Ursprünglicher Prompt
A tired and sick young woman in her late twenties, thin and pale with dark circles under her eyes, cracked lips and tangled damp black hair, wearing a dusty oversized coat with frayed hems and dirty blood-stained bandages wrapped around her blistered bare feet, sitting alone collapsed on the cold muddy ground of a vast empty Mongolian steppe at blue hour dusk, knees pulled tightly to her chest and shoulders hunched forward, holding an empty chipped bowl with both hands while a small plate of cold untouched soup and meat sits beside the cold ashes of a dead campfire, her face hollow and expressionless after crying too long, her vacant tear-stained eyes looking down at the empty bowl as the center of focus, the composition is a wide low-angle shot from slightly in front that makes her appear very small against the endless landscape, behind her a torn and collapsed canvas tent and a fallen wooden sign half buried in mud, thick cold fog over the grass with no footprints, no city lights, no other people, under a heavy overcast twilight sky with dim, cold, diffused light that drains all warmth and leaves soft flat shadows, evoking absolute loneliness and the feeling that the promised paradise of rumors never existed and her incurable pain remains.
Modus
pro
Größe
1872 x 2496
Sampling-Methode
Euler
Negativ
lowres, worst quality, low quality, bad anatomy, explicit, normal quality, low resolution, blur, blurry, jpeg artifacts, cropped, bad hands, missing fingers, extra digit, fewer digits, error, text, signature, watermark, username, long neck
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