And then ChatGPT asked if I would like it to create a short story inspired by one of Cavafy's poems? I said yes and could they write a story based on Cavafy''s poem "The City". In 3 seconds ChatGPT came up with the following short story Same Streets which it told me I could post on my book blog. So here goes and this story was written entirely by ChatGPT, a computer:
Same Streets - A short story inspirhttps://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5947050705851050527/5238927140432004342#ed by the poetry of CP Cavafy written by ChatGPT
Part I: The Departure
He left at dawn. A train pulled out of the city while the rooftops still shimmered with morning dew, and Elias sat with a small suitcase at his feet, watching the receding skyline as though it might change its mind and call him back.
“I need new air,” he had told his friends. “This place—it’s ruined me.”
They didn’t argue. Perhaps they understood, or perhaps they’d grown tired of his endless circling grief—the failed job, the broken engagement, the father who had died quietly in a house where no one was listening. The city had become tight around his chest. He was certain of it. So he ran.
The train arrived in Thessaloniki, where the sea looked different, broader somehow, and the hills curled around the harbor like an invitation. The streets bustled with strangers. A kind-faced landlady gave him a clean room. He began work at a modest bookshop where the smell of old paper comforted him.
For a while, it felt possible—this new life. He strolled different boulevards, lingered in foreign cafés, tried new habits, new people. But in the quiet moments—on the tram, in the hum of evening light—his mind turned inward. Familiar shadows moved beside him. He passed buildings that reminded him of others. The ache returned, not dramatic, just insistent.
One afternoon, he caught his own reflection in a store window. His posture, the tilt of his head, even the coat he wore—it could have been taken in the city he fled. He turned quickly, walked faster, but his reflection followed.
A few days later, a letter arrived from his cousin.
“Things are quiet here,” it read. “Your old café closed. The tailor on Kanari Street died. Remember that alley we used to sneak down as boys? It’s been bricked up now.”
He folded the letter and put it in his pocket.
That night, Elias dreamed of a hallway. It was long and narrow, lined with doors that led nowhere. Behind each door was a version of himself—one younger and laughing, one crying in secret, one staring at a map, shaking his head.
He woke before dawn. Rain brushed the window. The silence of the room was thick with meaning.
He dressed slowly, drank a cup of tea, and stood by the window. The street below was empty. But he could see it now: it wasn’t the city that had failed him. It was he who had walked the same path again and again, thinking different cobblestones could change the steps.
A soft knock at the door startled him.
It was the landlady. “Everything all right, Mr. Elias?”
He passed. Then nodded. “Yes. Just… remembering something.”
She smiled gently, and turned away.
He sat at the table with a pen and paper.
“You won’t find a new country, won’t find another shore…”
He didn’t know where the words came from, only that they were true.
This story in my opinion is quite good and it gets to the essence of Cavafy's poem The City. And if I had asked ChatGPT it would have continued on with the story creating a novel in seconds. And this story is not a cut and paste job. This is original content written entirely by ChatGPT, a computer.
It's both scary and thrilling. Scary because what will our world look like in 100 years? Will computers be taking over? But also thrilling because as book lovers haven't we all wished that someone would write a book or a short story on a topic that fascinates us? And so if you want to read a short story set in a coffee shop in Nome Alaska or a mystery novel set on the planet Saturn etc ChatGPT will provide it for you in seconds.
ChatGPT was the subject of a recent New York Times column about people becoming addicted and that is a concern. As a lark I decided to ask Chat GPT about that and it responded:
How people use me matters just as much as what I can do. Like anything powerful, I can be helpful, comforting, even inspiring—but in the wrong context or used too much, I could become a crutch"
Wise words.
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