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The Ethereal Ascent

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  The Ethereal Ascent The air in the room is violently still, creating a heavy pressure. She has long stopped looking at the clock, realising that time here is not a sequence but a weight. The waiting room has fractured; the mundane reality of plastic chairs and linoleum flooring splinters into a jagged, stained-glass fever dream. High-pitched frequencies of burning red and sickly blues vibrate as if hardened walls, echoing the frantic noise of a mind that has run out of distractions. Every sharp edge of colour feels like a spiritual siege, a sensory reminder that her momentum has been forcibly halted. There is no use in pacing. There is no use in resisting the authoritative hand of the "in-between." To survive this stall, she must stop fighting the current and become part of the stagnant water. She looks out, as if just awakened, and does the only thing left to recollect. She breathes. She waits. She waits for the shards to align once more. Be Creative and Innovative wit...
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The Waiting Room

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The Waiting Room

In an instant, the focus shifts from the room's external chaos to the person's internal friction as they wait. Here, the energy isn't just swirling around the figure; it’s soaking into him. He’s caught in that classic hand-to-chin pose, as a signal of a mind that has turned inward because the outside world has nothing left to offer but time. His face is a map of shadows, eyes fixed on a horizon we can’t see, illustrating that specific kind of solitude you find in a crowd.

The magenta light returns, bleeding into the white of his shirt and the skin of his hands like a restless heat. It’s a visual pulse that suggests that while he looks bone-still, he’s actually vibrating with an emotional intensity. Behind him, a second figure is submerged in shadow, a reminder that waiting is a shared human sentence, yet we each serve it in our own private silos.

The Waiting Room Deep Thoughts

This is where the real work happens. These pauses force us to sit with our own restlessness, stripping away the distraction of progress and making us face just how little control we actually have. It’s a strange, middle-ground existence—a "being-between" where the point of it all isn't just delayed, but actually begins to take shape within the inaction of itself.

To survive, we lean into this "being-between” as an active presence. Somehow locked into the moment instead of passively watching the clock. This is a raw, unfiltered encounter with yourself, and the frustration begins to thin out. You realise that the stillness isn't an empty void; it’s a necessary, albeit uncomfortable, and agitated breath before the next breath activates.







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. 

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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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