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The Empire of the Primrose

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  The Empire of the Primrose - Station 1 Do you have recurring dreams? Travel Sketches by metamodernist artist JJFBbennett The cycle always resets at dusk, like waking inside the cold architecture of an unyielding, repetitive dream. I walk the wet, cobbled veins of an ancient European city, passing beneath stone arches hung with heavy, lifeless flags, heraldry drained of colour, damp cloth clinging to wooden poles like dead skin. There is no breath of wind, only the low, humming pressure of an era turning in its sleep. I reach into an iron sconce and tear loose a torch of roaring, ragged fire. The flame casts jittering amber shadows against the masonry as I plunge down the same discrepant corridor, a passage that bends against geometry, narrowing and widening like an inhaling throat. The Empire of the Primrose - Station 2 Past the broken gargoyles. Into the moss-eaten ruins of a seated angel whose stone wings have sheared away to jagged stubs. And onwards, deeper into the vaulted h...
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Piloting and despooling

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Piloting and despooling



The reality of JB’s confinement is suffocating. The air inside is thin, hot, and heavy with the scent of his own fear. His flight suit, usually a second skin, feels like a lead weight. Through the visor, he sees the control panel—a blur of familiar red and green warnings pulsing just inches away. His fingers twitch, aching to override the sequence, but the shimmering silver nanoweave holds him in a vice grip. 

He is a creature of action reduced to impotent stasis, staring at salvation he cannot touch.

JB feels the phantom touch of ancient hands as they apply ceremonial linen over the nanoweave. The timeline collapses. He is no longer just a space tourist; he is a modern man drowning in the dust of the ancients, suspended in the liminal space between the cold silence of the cosmos and the heavy, golden air of the afterlife.

As the pressure locks against his skull, the final thread snaps. It is the disintegration of the self. JB feels his history, his name, and his instincts—the very core of who he is—rapidly unspooling into the darkness. The machine has not just captured his body; it has dismantled his identity, leaving him as a blank slate waiting to be written upon by the anomaly.








John Bennett - AKA JJFBbennett, is an independent artist. You can view and subscribe to my work via Blogger, YouTube, Flicker, Facebook, Instagram and Deviant Art. 

Subscribe to JJFBbennett's private FB hub: https://www.facebook.com/share/g/18ythpSXPZ/

You can subscribe to my music via YouTube Music, Spotify, iTunes, Apple Music and Soundcloud

To support my art, feel free to donate via JJFBbennett through PayPal  

If you want to acquire JJFB's art creations as an NFT - John's Opensea NFT profile is https://opensea.io/JJFBbennett  


Copyright

This artwork is protected by U.S. and International copyright laws. Distribution and/or modification of the artwork without the written permission of the sponsor is prohibited.




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