Inside: Inclusive Conversations on Gender Violence
Model:
FluX
Size:
1152 X 864
(1.00 MP)
Used settings:
Prompt: If you’re gonna talk about gender-based violence, you don’t get to claim half the victims don’t exist.
Men and boys are getting hit, broken, dismissed, and told to “walk it off,” but somehow that doesn’t fit the slogan so it gets left out of the speech.
You can’t fix anything by ignoring the people you don’t want to see.
Tell the whole damn story, or stop calling it “gender-based.”
We all deserve honesty, not curated compassion.
Prompt: That is a very powerful and evocative reflection on the contrast between the vast, overwhelming, and often disillusioning public sphere ("Big life") and the immediate, sensory, and meaningful personal sphere ("Small life").
It articulates a common feeling of existential fatigue and cognitive dissonance, particularly regarding modern public discourse.
Here's a breakdown of the key elements you've described:
Prompt: The style of execution is detailed digital painting, as if on an IMAX movie screen using a technique ("double effect") to convey the idea of dualism and the effect of 3D presence. In the middle of a gloomy, almost lifeless scene, under thin, cold rain showers, sits an elderly man of about 60 years old with a tired but surprisingly noble face. Man with facial features typical of European origin (possibly with a mixture of Slavic roots), without a moustache, he has very short gray hair on the head - cut "semi-boxing/ boxing" is a classic military choice and very short gray "grey-white" beard. Its fall is short silver-white, hair like soft clouds can be seen on the temples and a very short and thick gray beard highlights the severe features of the face and small and not very expressive wrinkles, carved by time. He is wearing a loose, worn shirt with embroidery, probably "embroidered", embroidered with red and white threads on the collar and cuffs, soiled by soil and rain water. He is barefoot, his legs withered and knotted, in black discourses of dirt, entwined in the position of quiet thought. In his hands he holds the sole stalk of a yellow rose, already slightly wilted, but still holding the warmth and aroma of life. The petals, like drops of sunlight, contrast with the serenity of the surrounding world. The man looks at her carefully, almost with awe, as if trying to hold in his hands the rest of an unfulfilled dream. On either side of it are two large glass cans, each emitting a soft, warm light. On the left is a label with the inscription «DREAMS» - inside flickering tiny lights, like caught fireflies, lighting thin studs and golden petals set on the bottom. To the right of a bank with the inscription «REALITY» - its light is dimmer, and among coal-black stones and debris can be seen only rare flashes. Between them, on the wet ground, mixed with pebbles and mud, yellow petals are scattered as if they had come from a man’s flower. The background is dark, almost black, going into emptiness, where only rainlines create a sense of movement. The light falls softly, highlighting the figure of the old man and two vessels, turning them into the conceptual center of the picture. An atmosphere full of sadness and philosophical silence is a moment in which dream meets reality, fragile beauty meets the inevitable. Tending on ArtStation, IMAX Cinematic - 1080hd, OLED8K, HDR, Super HDR.
Prompt: The suspicion that reality might be a mirage, a shimmering illusion rather than solid ground, echoes through the corridors of history and resonates within the halls of philosophy:
Plato's Allegory of the Cave (c. 380 BCE): Imprisoned in shadows, humanity mistakes flickering projections for true forms, a stark reminder of how easily our perceptions can be manipulated and confined.
Hindu and Buddhist Philosophies: The concept of Maya, where the world is seen as an intricate illusion, suggesting experiences are veils upon a deeper truth.
Descartes' Evil Demon (1641): A specter of doubt raised by Descartes. How can we be certain that our reality is not a puppet show orchestrated by a malevolent deceiver?
Solipsism: A philosophy where reality is distilled to a single point, a lone consciousness adrift in a sea of unknowable constructs.
Prompt: Well, I'd sooner forget, but I remember those nights:
Yeah, life was just a bet on a race between the lights;
You had your head on my shoulder, you had your hand in my hair :-))
[ Create in style that combines veryverydetailed minimalism ("bathed") in maximalist chiaroscuro with a
new absurd-to-bizarre portrait art where luminous mini-format negatives of various details of great telegraph are arranged into spatial collages which form fully shaped things and figures. Half drown the main subject into the background of gentle timbre song's feels that are carried on the breeze as winding, curved melancholy harmonies - for those use alcohol inks. ]
Prompt: Nevertheless I before received and admitted many things as wholly certain and manifest, which yet I afterward found to be doubtful. What, then, were those? They were the earth, the sky, the stars, and all the other objects which I was in the habit of perceiving by the senses. But what was it that I clearly [and distinctly] perceived in them? Nothing more than that the ideas and the thoughts of those objects were presented to my mind. And even now I do not deny that these ideas are found in my mind.
Prompt: Probably for the 1st time, I'm using my live to defy their system. I refuse the fake societies that is built upon numbers, and overrun their slave system with music and fun. Because I'm being honest with my vision! All those who had NDEs say 1 same scenario - seeing Heaven, only pleasant Nature and happy people, nothing else. Their earthly realm is built upon a fake and unkind system that segregates humanity and life. I refuse to be a part of them. I really hope any positive organization in the universe actively take part with me, and bring me home to heaven now!
Prompt: Every day I seem to become aware of some new paradox within my own life. The cognitive dissonance of these realizations is becoming hard to ignore. The systems of life, and indeed my own mind, are becoming a blurred vision. When I point these out to people, the always seem to agree, become disturbed by it, then rapidly forget it entirely. For most people, stability seems to rest on the illusion of certainty. Uncertainty is an unwelcomed virus to be purged. The reality is that uncertainty is all we really have.
Prompt: Every day I seem to become aware of some new paradox within my own life. The cognitive dissonance of these realizations is becoming hard to ignore. The systems of life, and indeed my own mind, are becoming a blurred vision. When I point these out to people, the always seem to agree, become disturbed by it, then rapidly forget it entirely. For most people, stability seems to rest on the illusion of certainty. Uncertainty is an unwelcomed virus to be purged. The reality is that uncertainty is all we really have.
Prompt: Every day I seem to become aware of some new paradox within my own life. The cognitive dissonance of these realizations is becoming hard to ignore. The systems of life, and indeed my own mind, are becoming a blurred vision. When I point these out to people, the always seem to agree, become disturbed by it, then rapidly forget it entirely. For most people, stability seems to rest on the illusion of certainty. Uncertainty is an unwelcomed virus to be purged. The reality is that uncertainty is all we really have.
Prompt: Every day I seem to become aware of some new paradox within my own life. The cognitive dissonance of these realizations is becoming hard to ignore. The systems of life, and indeed my own mind, are becoming a blurred vision. When I point these out to people, the always seem to agree, become disturbed by it, then rapidly forget it entirely. For most people, stability seems to rest on the illusion of certainty. Uncertainty is an unwelcomed virus to be purged. The reality is that uncertainty is all we really have.
Prompt: Every day I seem to become aware of some new paradox within my own life. The cognitive dissonance of these realizations is becoming hard to ignore. The systems of life, and indeed my own mind, are becoming a blurred vision. When I point these out to people, the always seem to agree, become disturbed by it, then rapidly forget it entirely. For most people, stability seems to rest on the illusion of certainty. Uncertainty is an unwelcomed virus to be purged. The reality is that uncertainty is all we really have.
Prompt: Every day I seem to become aware of some new paradox within my own life. The cognitive dissonance of these realizations is becoming hard to ignore. The systems of life, and indeed my own mind, are becoming a blurred vision. When I point these out to people, the always seem to agree, become disturbed by it, then rapidly forget it entirely. For most people, stability seems to rest on the illusion of certainty. Uncertainty is an unwelcomed virus to be purged. The reality is that uncertainty is all we really have.
Prompt: Surrealism of the past, realism in the chaos of the present, the matrix, in the style of a Piero della Francesca, by Jane Crowther, by Isaac Julien, by Ivan Fedorovich Choultse
Prompt: A beautiful person standing afar and facing the front. Cinematic scene, with beautiful whimsical geometry patterns filling the void.
The air is lit by colorful lights, like stars shining in the galactic serenity.
Prompt: Under moonlight coded in binary stars, the prophet doesn’t preach — he remixes reality. Every verse he drops unzips the sky, revealing gears behind fate. Those who laughed now listen with trembling chests.
Style: Glitch mysticism. Sacred algorithm. Audio prophecy.
Prompt: In a world where the voiceless were taught that silence is safety, the final whisper becomes thunder. The last ones don’t march — they manifest, cracking the bones of time itself. Their eyes are empty not from fear, but from seeing everything. Now, when they speak, reality stutters.
Style: Echoes of forgotten prophets. Black fire sermons. Sacred silence breaking like glass.
Prompt: In a world where the voiceless were taught that silence is safety, the final whisper becomes thunder. The last ones don’t march — they manifest, cracking the bones of time itself. Their eyes are empty not from fear, but from seeing everything. Now, when they speak, reality stutters.
Style: Echoes of forgotten prophets. Black fire sermons. Sacred silence breaking like glass.
Prompt: In a world where the voiceless were taught that silence is safety, the final whisper becomes thunder. The last ones don’t march — they manifest, cracking the bones of time itself. Their eyes are empty not from fear, but from seeing everything. Now, when they speak, reality stutters.
Style: Echoes of forgotten prophets. Black fire sermons. Sacred silence breaking like glass.
Prompt: Double exposure comic art [silhouette of a cityscape] and [breathtakingly majestic shopping woman in the street] :: volumetric, romantic, breathtaking :: (Double exposure photography) :: Art by Andreas Lie, Dain Yoon, Josephine Wall, Bo Chen. Udon Comics art style.
Dream Level: is increased each time when you "Go Deeper" into the dream. Each new level is harder to achieve and
takes more iterations than the one before.
Rare Deep Dream: is any dream which went deeper than level 6.
Deep Dream
You cannot go deeper into someone else's dream. You must create your own.
Deep Dream
Currently going deeper is available only for Deep Dreams.
