It’s okay to lose yourself for a few days only if you know you will find yourself at the other side. The days could become weeks or even months. Sometimes years, maybe a lifetime. Who are you to set an alarm on a dream.
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\"Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone?\"
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(psychedelic highly detailed digital painting, Award winning photography, fantasy, intricate, 8k, dynamic lighting, award winning, imperial colors, background, by yukisakura, awesome full color) Image: In the heart of the little girls surreal dreamscape, a towering crystal castle rises from the ethereal mist. Its spires and turrets shimmer with iridescent hues, reflecting the celestial lights above. A rainbow bridge, its graceful arch spanning the distance, leads to the castles grand entrance. The little girl, her eyes filled with wonder and curiosity, steps onto the bridge, eager to explore this enchanting realm. Text: Deep within the surreal depths of the little girls dreams, a towering crystal castle emerges from the ethereal mist. Its spires and turrets shimmer with iridescent hues, reflecting the celestial lights above. A rainbow bridge, its graceful arch spanning the distance, leads to the castles grand entrance. Enticed by the allure of this enchanting realm, the little girl, her eyes sparkling with wonder and curiosity, steps onto the bridge, ready to embark on a fantastical journey. Additional notes: The little girls surreal dreamscape is a reflection of her inner world, her boundless imagination, and her yearning for adventure. The towering crystal castle symbolizes her quest for knowledge, enlightenment, and self-discovery. The rainbow bridge represents the path to her dreams, a journey of transformation and growth. The image captures the essence of childhood wonder, the limitless potential of the human mind, and the magic of dreams.
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(psychedelic highly detailed digital painting, Award winning photography, fantasy, intricate, 8k, dynamic lighting, award winning, imperial colors, background, by yukisakura, awesome full color) Image: In the heart of the little girls surreal dreamscape, a towering crystal castle rises from the ethereal mist. Its spires and turrets shimmer with iridescent hues, reflecting the celestial lights above. A rainbow bridge, its graceful arch spanning the distance, leads to the castles grand entrance. The little girl, her eyes filled with wonder and curiosity, steps onto the bridge, eager to explore this enchanting realm. Text: Deep within the surreal depths of the little girls dreams, a towering crystal castle emerges from the ethereal mist. Its spires and turrets shimmer with iridescent hues, reflecting the celestial lights above. A rainbow bridge, its graceful arch spanning the distance, leads to the castles grand entrance. Enticed by the allure of this enchanting realm, the little girl, her eyes sparkling with wonder and curiosity, steps onto the bridge, ready to embark on a fantastical journey. Additional notes: The little girls surreal dreamscape is a reflection of her inner world, her boundless imagination, and her yearning for adventure. The towering crystal castle symbolizes her quest for knowledge, enlightenment, and self-discovery. The rainbow bridge represents the path to her dreams, a journey of transformation and growth. The image captures the essence of childhood wonder, the limitless potential of the human mind, and the magic of dreams.
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Imagine an evocative image of a person standing alone in a vast, open landscape, surrounded by towering structures symbolizing societal norms and expectations. The individual gazes towards the horizon, a subtle defiance in their expression, reflecting the desire for independent thought. The landscape, bathed in subdued colors, echoes the challenge of navigating a world that prefers conformity. Meanwhile, shadowy figures representing societal influence cast imposing silhouettes, subtly hinting at the forces that seek to stifle individuality.
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For the pair, Search through your wildest, dreams, Free to roam to the edge of the world, Lies between the eyes of darkness, And dark side of the sun
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For the pair, Search through your wildest, dreams, Free to roam to the edge of the world, Lies between the eyes of darkness, And dark side of the sun
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A silhouette of a person following their shadow that's shaped like their dream, emphasizing individual pursuit
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A silhouette of a person following their shadow that's shaped like their dream, emphasizing individual pursuit
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A silhouette of a person following their shadow that's shaped like their dream, emphasizing individual pursuit
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(blocking in oil painting technique abstract image) The mirror of a lustrum. There is a contemplative lustrum behind the glass, which is a mute consort of the boiling joy that cries out to it with arms upraised and crowned in a fist, to the twin that looks out through that window. It is a small victory dressed in time won, and that the first conscience jealously guards in the memory of a child born into the world for the second time. And I ask myself at every instant: How long will the memory last? That one that assaults the head every time a doubt arises, every time it takes refuge in the moment that celebrates being alive; The one that becomes the shadow of your own Cronos! In the guardian of the Ego, that dresses you before the gaze of God... Forever and ever.
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(blocking in oil painting technique abstract image) The mirror of a lustrum. There is a contemplative lustrum behind the glass, which is a mute consort of the boiling joy that cries out to it with arms upraised and crowned in a fist, to the twin that looks out through that window. It is a small victory dressed in time won, and that the first conscience jealously guards in the memory of a child born into the world for the second time. And I ask myself at every instant: How long will the memory last? That one that assaults the head every time a doubt arises, every time it takes refuge in the moment that celebrates being alive; The one that becomes the shadow of your own Cronos! In the guardian of the Ego, that dresses you before the gaze of God... Forever and ever.
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(blocking in oil painting technique abstract image) The mirror of a lustrum. There is a contemplative lustrum behind the glass, which is a mute consort of the boiling joy that cries out to it with arms upraised and crowned in a fist, to the twin that looks out through that window. It is a small victory dressed in time won, and that the first conscience jealously guards in the memory of a child born into the world for the second time. And I ask myself at every instant: How long will the memory last? That one that assaults the head every time a doubt arises, every time it takes refuge in the moment that celebrates being alive; The one that becomes the shadow of your own Cronos! In the guardian of the Ego, that dresses you before the gaze of God... Forever and ever.
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(blocking in oil painting technique abstract image) The mirror of a lustrum. There is a contemplative lustrum behind the glass, which is a mute consort of the boiling joy that cries out to it with arms upraised and crowned in a fist, to the twin that looks out through that window. It is a small victory dressed in time won, and that the first conscience jealously guards in the memory of a child born into the world for the second time. And I ask myself at every instant: How long will the memory last? That one that assaults the head every time a doubt arises, every time it takes refuge in the moment that celebrates being alive; The one that becomes the shadow of your own Cronos! In the guardian of the Ego, that dresses you before the gaze of God... Forever and ever.
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(blocking in oil painting technique abstract image) The mirror of a lustrum. There is a contemplative lustrum behind the glass, which is a mute consort of the boiling joy that cries out to it with arms upraised and crowned in a fist, to the twin that looks out through that window. It is a small victory dressed in time won, and that the first conscience jealously guards in the memory of a child born into the world for the second time. And I ask myself at every instant: How long will the memory last? That one that assaults the head every time a doubt arises, every time it takes refuge in the moment that celebrates being alive; The one that becomes the shadow of your own Cronos! In the guardian of the Ego, that dresses you before the gaze of God... Forever and ever.
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(blocking in oil painting technique abstract image) The mirror of a lustrum. There is a contemplative lustrum behind the glass, which is a mute consort of the boiling joy that cries out to it with arms upraised and crowned in a fist, to the twin that looks out through that window. It is a small victory dressed in time won, and that the first conscience jealously guards in the memory of a child born into the world for the second time. And I ask myself at every instant: How long will the memory last? That one that assaults the head every time a doubt arises, every time it takes refuge in the moment that celebrates being alive; The one that becomes the shadow of your own Cronos! In the guardian of the Ego, that dresses you before the gaze of God... Forever and ever.
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(blocking in oil painting technique abstract image) The mirror of a lustrum. There is a contemplative lustrum behind the glass, which is a mute consort of the boiling joy that cries out to it with arms upraised and crowned in a fist, to the twin that looks out through that window. It is a small victory dressed in time won, and that the first conscience jealously guards in the memory of a child born into the world for the second time. And I ask myself at every instant: How long will the memory last? That one that assaults the head every time a doubt arises, every time it takes refuge in the moment that celebrates being alive; The one that becomes the shadow of your own Cronos! In the guardian of the Ego, that dresses you before the gaze of God... Forever and ever.
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(blocking in oil painting technique abstract image) The mirror of a lustrum. There is a contemplative lustrum behind the glass, which is a mute consort of the boiling joy that cries out to it with arms upraised and crowned in a fist, to the twin that looks out through that window. It is a small victory dressed in time won, and that the first conscience jealously guards in the memory of a child born into the world for the second time. And I ask myself at every instant: How long will the memory last? That one that assaults the head every time a doubt arises, every time it takes refuge in the moment that celebrates being alive; The one that becomes the shadow of your own Cronos! In the guardian of the Ego, that dresses you before the gaze of God... Forever and ever.
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(blocking in oil painting technique abstract image) The mirror of a lustrum. There is a contemplative lustrum behind the glass, which is a mute consort of the boiling joy that cries out to it with arms upraised and crowned in a fist, to the twin that looks out through that window. It is a small victory dressed in time won, and that the first conscience jealously guards in the memory of a child born into the world for the second time. And I ask myself at every instant: How long will the memory last? That one that assaults the head every time a doubt arises, every time it takes refuge in the moment that celebrates being alive; The one that becomes the shadow of your own Cronos! In the guardian of the Ego, that dresses you before the gaze of God... Forever and ever.
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(blocking in oil painting technique abstract image) The mirror of a lustrum. There is a contemplative lustrum behind the glass, which is a mute consort of the boiling joy that cries out to it with arms upraised and crowned in a fist, to the twin that looks out through that window. It is a small victory dressed in time won, and that the first conscience jealously guards in the memory of a child born into the world for the second time. And I ask myself at every instant: How long will the memory last? That one that assaults the head every time a doubt arises, every time it takes refuge in the moment that celebrates being alive; The one that becomes the shadow of your own Cronos! In the guardian of the Ego, that dresses you before the gaze of God... Forever and ever.
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(blocking in oil painting technique abstract image) The mirror of a lustrum. There is a contemplative lustrum behind the glass, which is a mute consort of the boiling joy that cries out to it with arms upraised and crowned in a fist, to the twin that looks out through that window. It is a small victory dressed in time won, and that the first conscience jealously guards in the memory of a child born into the world for the second time. And I ask myself at every instant: How long will the memory last? That one that assaults the head every time a doubt arises, every time it takes refuge in the moment that celebrates being alive; The one that becomes the shadow of your own Cronos! In the guardian of the Ego, that dresses you before the gaze of God... Forever and ever.
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(blocking in oil painting technique abstract image) The mirror of a lustrum. There is a contemplative lustrum behind the glass, which is a mute consort of the boiling joy that cries out to it with arms upraised and crowned in a fist, to the twin that looks out through that window. It is a small victory dressed in time won, and that the first conscience jealously guards in the memory of a child born into the world for the second time. And I ask myself at every instant: How long will the memory last? That one that assaults the head every time a doubt arises, every time it takes refuge in the moment that celebrates being alive; The one that becomes the shadow of your own Cronos! In the guardian of the Ego, that dresses you before the gaze of God... Forever and ever.
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(blocking in oil painting technique abstract image) The mirror of a lustrum. There is a contemplative lustrum behind the glass, which is a mute consort of the boiling joy that cries out to it with arms upraised and crowned in a fist, to the twin that looks out through that window. It is a small victory dressed in time won, and that the first conscience jealously guards in the memory of a child born into the world for the second time. And I ask myself at every instant: How long will the memory last? That one that assaults the head every time a doubt arises, every time it takes refuge in the moment that celebrates being alive; The one that becomes the shadow of your own Cronos! In the guardian of the Ego, that dresses you before the gaze of God... Forever and ever.
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(blocking in oil painting technique abstract image) The mirror of a lustrum. There is a contemplative lustrum behind the glass, which is a mute consort of the boiling joy that cries out to it with arms upraised and crowned in a fist, to the twin that looks out through that window. It is a small victory dressed in time won, and that the first conscience jealously guards in the memory of a child born into the world for the second time. And I ask myself at every instant: How long will the memory last? That one that assaults the head every time a doubt arises, every time it takes refuge in the moment that celebrates being alive; The one that becomes the shadow of your own Cronos! In the guardian of the Ego, that dresses you before the gaze of God... Forever and ever.
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(blocking in oil painting technique abstract image) The mirror of a lustrum. There is a contemplative lustrum behind the glass, which is a mute consort of the boiling joy that cries out to it with arms upraised and crowned in a fist, to the twin that looks out through that window. It is a small victory dressed in time won, and that the first conscience jealously guards in the memory of a child born into the world for the second time. And I ask myself at every instant: How long will the memory last? That one that assaults the head every time a doubt arises, every time it takes refuge in the moment that celebrates being alive; The one that becomes the shadow of your own Cronos! In the guardian of the Ego, that dresses you before the gaze of God... Forever and ever.
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(blocking in oil painting technique abstract image) The mirror of a lustrum. There is a contemplative lustrum behind the glass, which is a mute consort of the boiling joy that cries out to it with arms upraised and crowned in a fist, to the twin that looks out through that window. It is a small victory dressed in time won, and that the first conscience jealously guards in the memory of a child born into the world for the second time. And I ask myself at every instant: How long will the memory last? That one that assaults the head every time a doubt arises, every time it takes refuge in the moment that celebrates being alive; The one that becomes the shadow of your own Cronos! In the guardian of the Ego, that dresses you before the gaze of God... Forever and ever.
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