UNCLEJUT

It is 18:54, I am hiding in the middle of an electrical closet on an abandoned floor while what I presume to be a maintenance worker is having a smoke nearby. I am once again wondering why I do this. In twelve hours, if winds of good fortune blow my way, I will be leaving the building after sunrise to the bizarre look from whoever is behind the front desk. I will be dressed in a black T-shirt and pants stained from the raw concrete I slept on and climbed up hours before. I really want to quit this work, and I feel no shame in the announcement of that feeling. I am here because I still feel the demand I’ve always felt, perhaps greater than ever. I have learned these buildings by their sounds—keys jangling, different machines turning on and off, walkie talkies and elevators running up and down. Patterns mean you’re safe, an interruption in the spaces in between means beware. I have learned to be quieter than quiet, to sink until I become part of the bones of the building itself. I watch schedules, study shift changes and see who is diligent and who isn’t. My leg is falling asleep as I write these words. If I share these photos, it means I made it overnight, climbed the pyramid in the midst of Wall Street, took what I hope to be some halfway decent photos and made it back safe. It means I continued down a long stretch that feels like the end of this work as I know it. It means I felt the sadness of that and kept on anyways, because that’s all life is—a game of going on. I don’t know where I’m going, now more than ever it’s just all one strange unfolding mystery. For now, I am here in the electrical closet on the abandoned floor of the pyramid on Wall Street. The maintenance worker has finished their cigarette just across the floor and we are both waiting for something, I’m not sure what. 14 Wall Street, 2026, New York City

Bird’s Eye View