This afternoon, I felt a little bored, and all of a sudden, I thought of ChatGPT — a smart machine, or device, with which I could "talk" to kill time. I hoped that if I spoke English to it the whole time, our conversation could be a good chance for me to practice speaking English — even though it (the free version I use) always replies in printed words, with no sound!
However, just as I got started, I saw an intriguing line like this:
請以文藝復興風格創作一幅火星探測器的繪畫。使用明暗法和暖色系色調等技巧。
I didn’t want it to produce a picture of a Mars rover for me. Instead, I wanted it to create a painting of an old man drinking coffee… in the afternoon. It would be nice if it were made in the style of the Renaissance, though.
Yes, it was afternoon now, and I myself am literally a senior being. I thought it quite interesting to have this AI serve me with an image of an elderly figure enjoying a cup of coffee — in this quiet, somewhat boring, but poetically dreamy afternoon.
In less than half a second, the first painting appeared (see Image One below): The old man, holding a cup of something in his right hand, his left hand touching the saucer on the table, looked rather lonely or even miserable. You couldn’t see anything else in the painting except the gloomy walls in the background.
“Would you add a vase of flowers to this painting? Let them stand on the table!” I tried to enliven the image.
The second painting appeared just as quickly (see Image Two below): A good-looking vase with colorful flowers blooming from it was now on the table. I felt a bit happier, but not truly satisfied. So I said, “Thank you for the flower vase — you’ve done a good job. But if there were a window in the back, and through the window I could see some mountains with white clouds floating in the sky, that would be more interesting and meaningful.”
Then, once again, in less than half a second, the third painting was produced (see Image Three below): I noticed that not only had a window been added to the painting, but the old man’s facing direction had also been adjusted slightly.
Now I was excited. I asked the smart AI painter to add some musical notes somewhere in the picture. However, this time it told me:
"You've hit the free plan limit for image generation requests. You can create more images when the limit resets in 720 hours and 0 minutes."
It also said:
"If you need, I can still help describe how the image would look with musical notes added, or assist you with other creative ideas in the meantime."
“Yes, please,” I replied.
Then it provided a description of how musical notes could be artistically added to the painting. I didn’t care much about the description, but a new idea struck me. I said, “Oh — if you can write a short story that goes with this picture, it will certainly be very much appreciated.”
= = =
Here’s the story created by the smart and clever AI helper:
The Afternoon Etude
Every day at three, Mr. Lin sat by the window with his cup of coffee—always black, always quiet. The world had grown softer around him: the hum of traffic now distant, the flowers on the table slowly losing their bloom, and the clock ticking more gently than it used to.
He never needed much—just warmth, light, and the view. Outside, the mountains stood like old companions, and on a clear day like this one, white clouds gathered like sheep returning home. Their slow drift reminded him of lullabies he once played in his youth, when his fingers were still swift across the keys of an upright piano now long gone.
There were no photographs on the wall. He said memories didn’t need frames—they only needed music.
As the steam curled upward from his cup, so did imagined notes. They rose in silence but carried melodies only he could hear. A treble clef nestled near the bouquet of fading chrysanthemums. A dotted quarter note hovered just above the sill, nearly touching the sky.
He smiled—not because of any grand event, but because something deep inside, something untouched by age, still sang. The mountain, the coffee, the room, the quiet—all of it became a kind of music. Not loud, not showy—just steady, like an old etude that never quite ends, but always returns.
(The End)
aax.jpg)
axx.jpg)
