I lick the right eye of you, sleeping as if dead—licking it with my tongue—beyond the sorrowful sea; I love you—even hundreds of millions of years from now, I’ll be able to remember, even your cold palm; dawn is breaking, the roosters are making a racket; I love you, I love you...
Show Parameters
Mode
pro
Size
768 x 1280
Negative
worst quality, photorealistic, bad anatomy, blur, low resolution