Not Faster. Just Deeper.
I’m using Midjourney to create paintings that tell my visions, the way I see the world, and the emotions of the people I meet and experience.
And I’m discovering that not only can artificial intelligence not reproduce who I am. When I share the images I create with my narrative prompts, people I know quickly see which ones have the most impact and truly show who I am and what I want to say. And all of them are generated through AI tools and narrative prompting.
The fucking world in between
Yesterday I went to the doctor to proceed with the request for access to the protected categories. I showed her the result of the neurocognitive evaluation I did with the psychologist. It went quite well.
In fact, I’m very good at pretending everything is going very well. I’m good at adopting strategies, especially visual ones. The psychologist told me that I’m very good at playing with images to compensate for the abilities I’ve lost.
Some mornings, the words dance
There are mornings when I wake up and the words dance on their own in my head.
They keep doing it until they find a way out. They follow me like a cat, hungry, waiting by the table for me to fill its bowl.
Now they were following me home. They were in the car with me, bouncing over the speed bumps on the road that leads back to the parking spot by the gate.
Not long ago, I had just stepped out of the hairdresser’s. And right then, I realized I didn’t know where I had parked my car.
Far from the stars, far from everything
In the darkness, I drive fast on old mountain roads. The forest around us fades behind rusty guardrails. The last towns are far behind us, just small lights like stars above our heads.
Silence fills the night with its noise, mixed with the sound of a cicada that hasn’t noticed the evening passing. The air outside the window is cool and lightly brushes between my fingers.
Do what makes you happy
Today I went to lunch with friends. I had calculated a series of problems I might encounter. I knew I had to hide behind an image of myself that they have. An image that doesn’t correspond to my present. Something I’m used to.
I had forgotten that during my last attempts to enjoy moments with a group of people, I had felt unwell. When I arrived, I started talking and playing with my friends' children as I would have normally done years ago.
Just hate
Yesterday I had a call with a friend. What bothers me is the strong influence she has on me. It annoys me to hear from her without needing to call or message her. It bothers me the suffering I feel because of her presence. The emotions she manages to transmit to me. The constant feeling of hitting against something that doesn’t come out.
Now I am here. I am motionless because I feel her stillness.