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.
Sveva
The road wasn’t long and as she pedaled she felt the night flowing around her. The sound of the tires on the asphalt. The faint chatter in the distance. The many fears tangled in that short ride
and pouring all over her.
The fear that nothing would ever be enough or that she’d never be enough for what she wanted.
Alina
She looks at the front door. She turns back to him and understands that he can no longer do anything to her. Her head spins and she struggles to walk straight, but she moves slowly to the door. She touches the handle with her hand and opens it. She looks outside, towards the stairs. She sees no one, hears no sound.
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.