Southeast Asia. Modern day. The damaged and the broken ones; all rooted in the past, live life the way it always was, from their first day to their last. Motes of dust in beams of light, in the darkness of this day, we tip the hat and give a nod, for the truth we can’t convey. Everything is real, but nothing matters, anyway. Where life is only what must be, from the cradle to the grave. Everyone does what they can: Nothing less, but sure no more. Tip the hat and give a nod to the ones who’ve gone before. We tip our hats and give the nod to the world we’ve all ignored
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resilientgiant187

Southeast Asia. Modern day. The damaged and the broken ones; all rooted in the past, live life the way it always was, from their first day to their last. Motes of dust in beams of light, in the darkness of this day, we tip the hat and give a nod, for the truth we can’t convey. Everything is real, but nothing matters, anyway. Where life is only what must be, from the cradle to the grave. Everyone does what they can: Nothing less, but sure no more. Tip the hat and give a nod to the ones who’ve gone before. We tip our hats and give the nod to the world we’ve all ignored

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Southeast Asia. Modern day. The damaged and the broken ones; all rooted in the past, live life the way it always was, from their first day to their last. Motes of dust in beams of light, in the darkness of this day, we tip the hat and give a nod, for the truth we can’t convey. Everything is real, but nothing matters, anyway. Where life is only what must be, from the cradle to the grave. Everyone does what they can: Nothing less, but sure no more. Tip the hat and give a nod to the ones who’ve gone before. We tip our hats and give the nod to the world we’ve all ignored
Southeast Asia. Modern day. Nearer to the city now, the bus thumps and bumps to a slower pace. Grinding gears mark spaces between dirty children, playing obliviously in the road. Neither village nor metropolis, outskirts have no identity: Just a blurry line of encroachment; a temporary half-life on the way to something more. Dust springs up from the tires of trucks headed both ways on the road. A little girl stands crying in a mud puddle; her brothers laughing from the sides. She has to learn rejection to participate in this brutal, belonging dance. A little life, and a little death for a product truly worthy of its name: a good woman is hard to find.
An Asian Slice At the dark end of an alley on a moonless night, A youth squats low to the ground, turned toward the wall with his face in his lap. Someone might think he’s sleeping. He’s smoking heroin. Soon he’ll fall over and soil himself, and stay right there until dawn. Back at the neon-lit mouth of this dark alley, hookers walk back and forth, hurrying to get past the alley, either for fear or because is smells so bad. Eyelids, all painted golden, Asian whores always look like they’re made of candy. Candy it is; but a snarling cat awaits its prey.
An Asian Slice At the dark end of an alley on a moonless night, A youth squats low to the ground, turned toward the wall with his face in his lap. Someone might think he’s sleeping. He’s smoking heroin. Soon he’ll fall over and soil himself, and stay right there until dawn. Back at the neon-lit mouth of this dark alley, hookers walk back and forth, hurrying to get past the alley, either for fear or because is smells so bad. Eyelids, all painted golden, Asian whores always look like they’re made of candy. Candy it is; but a snarling cat awaits its prey.
I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me, And what can be the use of him is more than I can see. He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head; And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed. The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow— Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow; For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball, And he sometimes goes so little that there’s none of him at all. He hasn’t got a notion of how children ought to play, And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way. He stays so close behind me, he’s a coward you can see; I’d think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me! One morning, very early, before the sun was up, I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup; But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head, Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.
Southeast Asia. Modern day. This morning the sound of traffic in the street, scooters and tuk-tuks, taxis and trucks, was so loud I couldn’t hear my dream. So I turned it off and went dowstairs. Taking in diesel fumes ‘til it hurt to breathe, I found a hawker-stall and ate. It’s 100 degrees already; soon the rain will come.
Southeast Asia. Modern day. Afternoon rain forces us into the coolness of the little house, surrounded by rice paddies, where Grandmother assembles strings of Christmas lights; bound for somewhere. Young mother watches three children grow, and wonders: What will their lives be? Can’t dream of what she’s never seen; can’t see what she can’t dream.
The San Gorgonio Pass, Mt. San Gorgonio) rises in the North, all hoary-frost and granite. Snake-like clouds adorning her peak, I gaze past the big white house toward her uplifted boulders. And at the South, Mt. San Jacinto has lost his head in cloud. Burned bones against a blue sky backdrop. Between the two, another sunrise gleams and beams of brilliant, white-hot day flash forth: They accentuate the Sonora desert’s west extreme, and last night’s moon forgot to go away.
The San Gorgonio Pass, Mt. San Gorgonio) rises in the North, all hoary-frost and granite. Snake-like clouds adorning her peak, I gaze past the big white house toward her uplifted boulders. And at the South, Mt. San Jacinto has lost his head in cloud. Burned bones against a blue sky backdrop. Between the two, another sunrise gleams and beams of brilliant, white-hot day flash forth: They accentuate the Sonora desert’s west extreme, and last night’s moon, high up on the left, forgot to go away.
Southeast Asia. Modern day. Back out on the open plain, our bus hurtles toward the city. Smokestacks and temples rise up from the earth; two visions competing for the sky. The woman on my right holds a chicken in her lap; rural wealth for a city friend? On my left a Buddhist priest sits in quiet repose and presides over the world.
An Asian Slice At the dark end of an alley on a moonless night, A youth squats low to the ground, turned toward the wall with his face in his lap. Someone might think he’s sleeping. He’s smoking heroin. Soon he’ll fall over and soil himself, and stay right there until dawn. Back at the neon-lit mouth of this dark alley, hookers walk back and forth, hurrying to get past the alley, either for fear or because is smells so bad. Eyelids, all painted golden, Asian whores always look like they’re made of candy. Candy it is; but a snarling cat awaits its prey.
A serene and rustic autumn landscape, featuring an aged John Deere farm implement (a seeder or planter) in the foreground. The old machinery retains its weathered green and rust colors but is now positioned amidst a carpet of vibrant fallen autumn leaves in shades of gold, orange, and russet. The large, leafy trees in the middle ground, which were green in the original image, are now transformed into glorious specimens of fall foliage, displaying brilliant yellows, fiery oranges, and deep reds. The distant field shows hints of freshly turned earth or dry, golden stubble. In the background, the small house with the blue roof remains, nestled amongst a dense forest that is also ablaze with autumn colors. The sky is a clear, bright autumn blue, with warm, golden sunlight characteristic of a pleasant fall day, casting gentle shadows and highlighting the rich textures of the old equipment, the tree bark, and the colorful leaves. The overall mood is one of peaceful rural charm, autumnal beauty, and the quiet dignity of farm life as the seasons change.
Out where the river runs wild and free and only the brave dare row; where the rapids are deep, and the challenge is fresh and it takes them where it means to go. With breakneck speed, grinning into the wind, standing straight on the bow of their craft, just a glimpse now and then of those captains you’ll catch flying by, near capsizing your raft. They’ve no time for advice to those standing on shore or to aid the ones just wading out, for their task is to pilot this current, they think, and it’s all they can do to stay out of the drink, and their lives could be gone in the space of a wink should they lose but a moment to doubt. Standing tall, they never must doubt!
I sat, long ago, on an Asian hill with a Shakya Mundi friend, and watched the autumn leaves fall down from high above, giants in the forest casting off their wakefulness, falling progressively into winter’s long, white sleep. “The important thing to know about trees” he said, “is that they are most beautiful in autumn; just before the winter snow. They live and grow through the entire year just for these brief moments of stunning beauty. We are like that.” He said, “but we have only one autumn, and a very long winter.”
This day, though, I hiked another autumn wood. Eastern Europe ancient; overgrown. So thick the view was dark at just a few feet off the path. All red and yellow; orange and brown, a million trees, each one in blazing preparation for long, frozen winter. I cannot but recall my friend’s words, lasting long, though he did not, and the instant truth that follows. Looking upward at the fiery canopy, matched against the bright cerulean sky beyond, I embrace autumn! Winter surely comes one day, but spring beyond. I have a winter to prepare for, but it is not yet.
Out where the river runs wild and free and only the brave dare row; where the rapids are deep, and the challenge is fresh and it takes them where it means to go. With breakneck speed, grinning into the wind, standing straight on the bow of their craft, just a glimpse now and then of those captains you’ll catch flying by, near capsizing your raft. They’ve no time for advice to those standing on shore or to aid the ones just wading out, for their task is to pilot this current, they think, and it’s all they can do to stay out of the drink, and their lives could be gone in the space of a wink should they lose but a moment to doubt. Standing tall, they never must doubt!
still life arrangement of fruits and flowers
still life with everyday objects
A vibrant and atmospheric impressionistic painting capturing the essence of the provided photograph: two figures on bicycles, a child in the foreground and an adult behind, crossing a rustic wooden bridge over a flowing stream. The scene is transformed into a glorious autumn landscape, where the surrounding trees are ablaze with rich, impressionistic brushstrokes of brilliant golds, fiery oranges, and deep reds, intermingled with patches of lingering green. The wooden bridge itself is rendered with textural, broken brushstrokes, suggesting its weathered planks, with scattered fall leaves painted in warm, detached dabs of color. The stream below glimmers with soft reflections of the autumn light and foliage, depicted with fluid, expressive strokes. The figures on the bicycles are captured with a sense of movement and energy, their forms suggested rather than precisely detailed, blending into the lively, shimmering atmosphere. The sky above, if visible through the canopy, is a soft, luminous blue, hinted at with delicate washes. The lighting is soft and diffused, characteristic of a pleasant autumn day, creating a radiant and inviting mood. The overall effect is one of fleeting beauty, captured light, and the joyful freedom of a crisp fall ride, rendered with the characteristic loose, vibrant brushwork and subjective color of impressionism.
a tree in nature
“And there was one Anna, a prophetess, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Aser: she was of a great age, and had lived with an husband seven years from her virginity; And she was a widow of about fourscore and four years, which departed not from the temple, but served God with fastings and prayers night and day. And she coming in that instant gave thanks likewise unto the Lord, and spake of him to all them that looked for redemption in Jerusalem.” (Luke 2:36-38, KJV) Create with a photorealistic expression
animal standing in natural pose
serene landscape with mountains and water
house with front view
urban street with city activity
portrait of a person with expressive eyes
Seasonal Impressionism Art Style Style Transfer Example
Seasonal Impressionism Art Style Style Transfer Example
bicyle resting against a wall
portrait of two people together
wide landscape with natural scenery
A koi pond seen from above, orange and white koi fish swimming among lily pads, clear water with subtle ripples, fallen cherry blossom petals floating on the surface, dappled sunlight
In Penang, Malaysia. Wing Sun's Grandmother is elderly and lives in Penang, on the island. Grandma's house is in a quieter part of the island, closer to the coastline where the sea breeze can be felt through the wooden windows. It's near the ocean, in Tanjung Bungah where there are old-style homes and a slower pace of life. There are many resort "homestay" hotels, and also some high-rise condos, but Grandmother's house has been there many years. Wing-Sun's mother grew up in that house, near the beach, with the ocean breeze. We see the house from down the street with Grandma standing in the doorway greeting us.
a tree in nature
still life with everyday objects
a painting of a field with mountains in the background
a painting of a field with mountains in the background
A breathtaking and intensely dramatic cinematic landscape photograph based on the provided image of a mountain valley. The scene captures a majestic mountainside vibrant with dramatized autumn foliage, showcasing an explosion of rich, saturated reds, fiery oranges, and brilliant golds across the slopes. Interspersed among the deciduous trees are towering dark green evergreens, providing a striking contrast against the warm fall colors. Wisps of ethereal mist or low-hanging clouds cling to the upper reaches and valleys of the mountain, adding depth and a sense of mystique. The sky above, partially visible, shows patches of dramatic, cloud-dappled blue peeking through, hinting at a powerful natural setting. The foreground features a mix of vibrant green and gold trees, framing the grand scale of the mountain. The image uses vibrant color grading and dramatic contrast to enhance the luminosity and intensity of the fall colors, making them truly pop. The lighting is rich and moody, highlighting textures on the rocky cliffs and the varied foliage. The overall mood is one of awe-inspiring natural beauty, epic scale, and profound autumnal splendor, rendered with the high visual impact of a cinematic scene."
animal standing in natural pose
still life arrangement of fruits and flowers
Seamless triptych artwork, continuous scene flowing left to right, left panel shows a palomino horse in the foreground on the far left side of the scene walking down a grassy slope toward a reflective teal-blue river in the Scottish Highlands with rocks and ferns around its hooves, center panel continues the same landscape as the horse now appears in the midground at the center of the scene standing at the river’s edge drinking from the reflective water beside ancient moss-covered stone ruins, right panel continues the scene as the horse appears far away in the distance on the far right side of the scene following the riverbank toward steep mist-covered mountains with dramatic sunlight breaking through the clouds, unified natural palette of greens golds and reflective teal blues, consistent cinematic lighting, shared horizon line, smooth uninterrupted left-to-right visual flow with no panel separation.
A triptych set of three drawings, continuous scene flowing left to right, left panel shows a palomino horse in the foreground on the far left side of the scene walking down a grassy slope toward a reflective teal-blue river in the Scottish Highlands with rocks and ferns around its hooves. Center panel continues the same landscape as the horse now appears in the midground at the center of the scene standing at the river’s edge drinking from the reflective water beside ancient moss-covered stone ruins. Right panel continues the scene as the horse appears far away in the distance on the far right side of the scene following the riverbank toward steep mist-covered mountains with dramatic sunlight breaking through the clouds, unified natural palette of greens golds and reflective teal blues, consistent cinematic lighting, shared horizon line, smoothf uninterrupted left-to-right visual flow with no panel separation.