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Waiting for inspiration

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Waiting for inspiration The air in a waiting room carries a specific kind of weight, a density that seems to swallow sound. For centuries, artists have tried to capture this heavy, invisible presence. I think of Honoré Daumier , who portrayed the slumped, weary resignation of third-class travellers. He understood that waiting wasn't just sitting; it was an endurance sport. I see that same heavy air, but my era is electrified. The figure on the left isn't just sitting; they are anchored against a storm of data. Their head is buried in their hands, face half-hidden as if they're trying to crawl inside their own mind to escape the silence. The thick, aggressive slashes of orange and gold overhead resemble a visual scream, capturing that internal chaos where your thoughts race at a hundred miles an hour while your body is stuck in a plastic chair. The green glow on their skin adds a cold, modern tension, making the whole scene feel like a pulse vibrating beneath a still surface...
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Hole in the Wall: Pool Time

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Hole in the Wall: Pool Time
I wanted to fly to another planet, but I first built this swimming pool.
My dreams just started getting away from me, and then I let them go.

In the heat of the day, I plunge into my pool.
My refreshing water.
I own it. I work for it.
When I'm tired of my thoughts I submerge into it.
When I'm confused and in panic, I fall gently into it.
I emerge feeling invigorated and comforted.
Continuation seems so easy once and only after submerging in my cool clear water.

My dreams to transform my life never eventuated.
I knew it once, when  I was promised myself to achieve.
I could aspire.
You never fail when you attempt to chase.

Somewhere I needed to reconcile between the obtainable haves and impossible wants.
Have I succumbed to failed by fabricating my mediocrity prison of pleasure?
Am I floating in falsehood
Am I wallowing in water of hindrance?
I built and tender to this my own 3-meter submersion of comfort.

In my moment before death, will my pool be there in easy memory?
Will it be replaced by morphine?
Will regrets of attainment hound me?.
Will I feel satisfied?
Will I discover what I was born for?

Whilst under water nothing eventuates.
I feel released.
Whilst under water the world passes me by.
I can just watch.
I feel contented.
I am no longer the wonder.
I am just here wanting to feel good.
In happiness for the now and in happiness for the tomorrow.






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