By: Frieda Hughes, poet and painter (daughter of poet Sylvia Plath) / The Independent
Translation: Telegrafi.com
Disgust towards Instagram-Item
I used to love the paws of your playful cats,
And the tricks they did on the kitchen trash can lid,
Even the destruction the dog was causing to the furniture in the room.
I became easily addicted to interesting recipes
That I would never cook, but I liked to see,
Until this week, when knowing your reality amidst the deceptions of AI [Artificial Intelligence]
It turned into a huge waste of time - when time is currency.
A gorilla swinging from a broken branch
In front of his laughing friend, and his fingers
That were still hanging on the trunk - a montage error in the imagination.
And a man with a body of a ton of flesh hanging down,
With few clothes, from above it looked
As he was being hoisted out of an upper-floor window in America -
Almost convincing, but the AI montage
You stole my attention with a lie.
About its gigantic size.
So now I no longer believe in your achievements, and I doubt your posts.
For the first time, I'm no longer interested in Instagram-in,
Because the deceptions of others with artificial intelligence
They distort reality.
That used to attract me so much.
/Telegraph/
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