delicate sunlight with dust in the air prompts

2 months ago

cinematic photo, ultra-realistic portrait of a graceful young East Asian woman in her early 20s, sitting on the stone balustrade at the Trocadéro in Paris on an overcast winter day. She has a gentle, contemplative smile, looking down and away from the camera. Her shoulder-length, straight black hair is lightly dusted with delicate snowflakes. She is wearing a stylish, textured pastel pink faux shearling coat with a plush, fluffy faux fur collar and cuffs. A thick, woven black wool scarf with tassels is wrapped warmly around her neck. The background is a classic view of the Eiffel Tower, partially shrouded in fog and mist, creating a soft, dreamy atmosphere. The Jardins du Trocadéro are visible below with wet pavement and green lawns. A light snow is falling, with individual snowflakes visible in the air. Photography Style: Camera: Shot with a DSLR, 50mm lens, f/1.8 aperture. Lighting: Soft, diffused natural light from the overcast sky, no direct sunlight or harsh shadows. Focus: Shallow depth of field, subject in sharp focus with a beautifully blurred bokeh background. Color Palette: Muted and cool tones in the background, with the warm pastel pink of the coat as the main pop of color. Mood: Romantic, serene, candid, and peaceful. Details: high resolution, exceptional detail, fine texture on the coat and scarf, realistic skin texture.

7 months ago

(Cinematic UHD, side angle shot of a café window with soft golden sunlight streaming in, delicate dust particles visible in the air, light sheer curtains slightly billowing, blurred background of trees outside, cozy atmosphere, realistic lighting effects, lora:cinematic_natural_light:1.3 lora:warm_mood:1.2)

5 months ago

First person POV, my calloused hands grip a worn chisel and hammer, poised over a slab of pristine white marble that gleams faintly in the soft light of dawn. The camera focuses on my hands, rough and dusted with fine marble powder, as I carefully carve intricate floral patterns destined for the Taj Mahal’s soaring dome. In the distance, through my gaze, the skeletal structure of the monument rises against the pale pink sky—scaffolding of bamboo and wood encircling half-finished minarets, while oxen carts laden with stone rumble across the dusty worksite. The Yamuna River shimmers behind the site, reflecting the first rays of sunlight. The air is cool, carrying the scent of wet earth and the faint tang of lime mortar. The rhythmic clink of chisels and the low chants of laborers reciting morning prayers blend with the creak of wooden pulleys. The camera lingers on the delicate curls of marble dust falling from my chisel, a testament to my skill, as the Taj Mahal’s silhouette grows sharper in the rising light. --ar 9:16 --s 250