I pour a drink
And I pull the blind
And I wonder what I’ll find
– Sheryl Crow

The strip.

A landing strip. Designed to attract, seduce, and ensnare.

Carefully trimmed, cleaned and preened. Daily.

Dis-infected. Air-freshened.

Don’t look too close. Don’t wander away from the strip. For there, the facade cracks. The gigantic staff parking lots. The sets that hold up the facade, push-up, pinch and tuck. Machines pump out the air that sears your throat, abrades your nose, lingering like the scent of the embalmers’ fluid. Don’t look. It really won’t do.

Walkways crawl across the bridge, but please, if you can’t walk, don’t ride the walkway. Please don’t spoil the view. We’ve got an eye on you. A place for you.

Out of sight.

Endless caverns, gambling dens. No way out. Please turn off the air. Let me smell something real.

Lost in Paradise. Lost in hell.

Dante had no clue.

He’d never imagined this circle of hell.

That is Paradise, NV.

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for the full story behind my trip

 – dinner

 – blending the right ingredients

 – signs

 – strip(ped)

 – fractured

 – the game has changed

 – don’t walk

 and, if you’d like to read my professional take on the week, you can here at Marquis Media Partners

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*all images shot with iPhone 6S cropped to 16:9 and instant filter added in OSX photos app*