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    More prompts from rylaa

    beautiful, photorealistic, ultra realistic, 
A single figure stands on the edge of a desolate, cracked landscape, gazing out at a horizon where two realities collide. The sky above splits in two   one half swirling with the vibrant colors of a fantastical aurora, the other a bleak, monochrome wasteland.  The figure's own form shimmers and distorts, caught between the disparate worlds, a solitary witness to the impossible divide.
    An old man sits on a bench of a futuristic park. On hs shoulders there are two ravens, at his feet are two dangerous dogs. Around him, time seems to stand still.
    An old man sits on a bench of a futuristic park. On hs shoulders there are two ravens, at his feet are two dangerous dogs. Around him, time seems to stand still.
    A young shy woman with glasses desperately looking for true love while roaming the streets at dusk.
    The face of a dead woman, finely chiseled into the rose granite of a humongous sarcophagus. Nothing disturbs the silence of the majestic tomb.
    An old man sits on a bench of a futuristic park. On hs shoulders there are two ravens, at his feet are two dangerous dogs. Around him, time seems to stand still.
    The face of a dead woman, finely chiseled into the rose granite of a humongous sarcophagus. Nothing disturbs the silence of the majestic tomb.
    The face of a dead woman, finely chiseled into the rose granite of a humongous sarcophagus. Nothing disturbs the silence of the majestic tomb.
    The face of a dead woman, finely chiseled into the rose granite of a humongous sarcophagus. Nothing disturbs the silence of the majestic tomb.
    An old man sits on a bench of a futuristic park. On hs shoulders there are two ravens, at his feet are two dangerous dogs. Around him, time seems to stand still.
    A young shy woman with glasses desperately looking for true love while tiredly trodding home from work in a rain at dusk. Her messy hair and wet face look like she cried her eyes out, but that is an illusion, she still has hope.
    The face of a dead woman, finely chiseled into the rose granite of a humongous sarcophagus. Nothing disturbs the silence of the majestic tomb.
    A young shy woman with glasses desperately looking for true love while tiredly trodding home from work in a rain at dusk. Her messy hair and wet face look like she cried her eyes out, but that is an illusion, she still has hope.
    An old man sits on a bench of a futuristic park. On his shoulders there are two ravens and at his feet are two large and dangerous dogs. Around him, time seems to stand still forever.
    The face of a dead woman, finely chiseled into the rose granite of a humongous sarcophagus. Nothing disturbs the silence of the majestic tomb.
    A young shy woman with glasses desperately looking for true love while roaming the streets at dusk.
    The face of a dead woman, finely chiseled into the rose granite of a humongous sarcophagus. Nothing disturbs the silence of the majestic tomb.
    A young shy woman with glasses desperately looking for true love while roaming the streets at dusk.
    An old man sits on a bench of a futuristic park. On his shoulders there are two ravens and at his feet are two large and dangerous dogs. Around him, time seems to stand still forever.
    A young shy woman with glasses desperately looking for true love while tiredly trodding home from work in a rain at dusk. Her messy hair and wet face look like she cried her eyes out, but that is an illusion, she still has hope.
    View more from rylaa