A Circuitdelic Laboratory Study of Cincinnati Central Business District.

You ever walk through a city and feel like you’re inside someone else’s nervous system?

Neon arteries. Rusted synapses.

Fire escapes to nowhere.

These aren’t buildings — they’re memory stacks.

They’ve seen too much, forgotten nothing.

I wandered through them with a camera.

No plan. No destination.

Just the click of the shutter and the hum of the grid.

The city speaks in overload.

It’s beautiful because it’s breaking.

Crumbling and shouting and glowing like it knows the sun isn’t coming back.

You don’t take these photos.

You survive them.

So here they are —

Slices of the Machine, painted in electromagnetic blood.

Look closely.

You might see your own reflection flicker in a 3rd-floor window.

Or hear your mother’s voice echoing off a broken tile.

Or catch a glimpse of the exit.

(The exit is the art.)