My umbrella is a lid. Under it, a small dark room where I keep the looking.

My umbrella is a lid. Under it, a small dark room where I keep the looking.

• Model: ChatGPT 2 (Ultra)

• Size: 3812 X 2144 (8.17 MP)

• Used settings:

  • Prompt: The boat hatched from a single maple. I stepped in before it finished becoming water. My umbrella is a lid. Under it, a small dark room where I keep the looking. The houses have been origami all along. They refold whenever I blink. A lantern drinks from the canal and becomes another leaf. The mountains are a letter someone started and got tired of unfolding. I am writing with my back. The wake is ink. The bridge is the only sentence that still has a verb. If a leaf lands on my sleeve it is trying to go home inside the robe. I will not turn around. My face is stored in the red paper under my feet. When the canal finishes reading me, it will crease me shut and float me toward the next town that has not been invented yet.
  • Using base image: No
  • Aspect Ratio: landscape_wide