Solitary Figure on a Foggy Street with Brick Houses

Artist
Taaplari
Prompt
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DDG Model
Realismo
Access
Public
Created
1w ago
Similar Try
Public
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- Info
  Model: Realismo
  
  Size: 1920 X 1080 (2.07 MP)
  
  Used settings:
  
  Prompt: (The sounds from the street have changed. The shouting is different. Not angry, not scared. It's… loud, but light. A woman's laughter, sharp and sudden like a dropped plate. A man is singing, badly. An old radio somewhere is crackling out a tune, not a voice talking about rations or front lines.) Okay. Breathe in. Breathe out. Mrs. Anya said the men with the guns are gone. She grabbed my shoulders, her hands bony and shaking, and she said, “It’s over, child. It’s over.” Over. The word is smooth. It doesn’t have sharp edges like run or hide or hush. It just… sits there. Over. My ears hurt. It’s the quiet. For years, the quiet was just the little space between the bangs. The breath you held before the whistle of something falling. Now… the quiet is everywhere. It’s a big, heavy blanket and I don’t know if it’s meant to keep me warm or smother me. My own breathing is too loud. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. My heart is making the old sound. The running sound. But I’m just sitting here. Does "over" mean we can use the front door? Does it mean the fire will be for warmth, not for boiling dirty water? Does it mean I don't have to sleep in my shoes? Papa is not… Papa is not part of "over." I know that. "Over" doesn't bring people back. It's not a magic word. It just means the screaming has stopped. But the space he left is still here. It’s a hole the quiet can’t fill. Maybe… maybe I can go to the old well. The one with the loose stones. I had a little blue bottle I hid there, before… before. Before we started sleeping in the cellar. Maybe it’s still there. They’re still making noise outside. The happy noise. It sounds strange. Like they’ve forgotten. Or maybe they just want to. I’m waiting for the other sound. The rumble. The one that shakes the floorboards. It’s been five minutes. Ten minutes? The quiet is staying. It feels…brave. Braver than I am. Okay. Breathe in. Breathe out. Maybe "over" just means you can breathe out for a little longer.
  
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Prompt: (The sounds from the street have changed. The shouting is different. Not angry, not scared. It's… loud, but light. A woman's laughter, sharp and sudden like a dropped plate. A man is singing, badly. An old radio somewhere is crackling out a tune, not a voice talking about rations or front lines.) Okay. Breathe in. Breathe out. Mrs. Anya said the men with the guns are gone. She grabbed my shoulders, her hands bony and shaking, and she said, “It’s over, child. It’s over.” Over. The word is smooth. It doesn’t have sharp edges like run or hide or hush. It just… sits there. Over. My ears hurt. It’s the quiet. For years, the quiet was just the little space between the bangs. The breath you held before the whistle of something falling. Now… the quiet is everywhere. It’s a big, heavy blanket and I don’t know if it’s meant to keep me warm or smother me. My own breathing is too loud. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. My heart is making the old sound. The running sound. But I’m just sitting here. Does "over" mean we can use the front door? Does it mean the fire will be for warmth, not for boiling dirty water? Does it mean I don't have to sleep in my shoes? Papa is not… Papa is not part of "over." I know that. "Over" doesn't bring people back. It's not a magic word. It just means the screaming has stopped. But the space he left is still here. It’s a hole the quiet can’t fill. Maybe… maybe I can go to the old well. The one with the loose stones. I had a little blue bottle I hid there, before… before. Before we started sleeping in the cellar. Maybe it’s still there. They’re still making noise outside. The happy noise. It sounds strange. Like they’ve forgotten. Or maybe they just want to. I’m waiting for the other sound. The rumble. The one that shakes the floorboards. It’s been five minutes. Ten minutes? The quiet is staying. It feels…brave. Braver than I am. Okay. Breathe in. Breathe out. Maybe "over" just means you can breathe out for a little longer.

More about

The prompt is Gemini 2.5 Pro AI's response to this request:
"Write a 2-minute inner monologue/thoughts of a poor child after she somehow found out that war was over."
https://aistudio.google.com/app/prompts/new_chat

Because the input text is a narrative rather than a typical prompt, the AI interprets the overall mood and key visual elements instead of creating a literal illustration of the story.

___________________
I'm not here to express my own creativity (what creativity?), but to observe AI's pseudo-creativity.

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