There is a unlit room, really little more than a box, but large enough for a man to stand in (actually he is sitting).
We can’t see the man because the room is too dark, but he is there, sure enough, melding with the darkness.
We do not know his thoughts or purpose, we merely know that he is there.
He does not wait, for the box exists out of time. He does not see for inside that dark box there is nothing to see.
He is just a man in a dark box, existing.