I went to the desert and I stood in front of the fire and I came out renewed and refreshed. I lived in a place where noth­ing lived, in a city of 40,000 souls, moment­ary and mys­tical, that sprang up like an oasis in the dusts and will dis­ap­pear again, and while its motto is leave no trace, it remains on the retina as a pal­impsest image over­laid on real­ity and as a satel­lite photo of a now non-exist­ent town in digital maps.

During the day, its streets are remin­is­cent of Wood­ford Fest­ival, dusty smil­ing faces shar­ing food and music. The major dif­fer­ence is that this is utopia: soci­ety without money, a gift eco­nomy on the whole. People stop us in the street to give us charms and deli­cious sushi; we climb onto fair­ground rides and play like chil­dren; a stall magic­ally appears – fresh oysters on ice in the middle of the desert! We have limes and gift them to enhance the exper­i­ence for ourselves and those to come; freshly made lem­on­ade and cool chai sweetens our lips; we are drawn into lav­ender lounges and the temple of the eternal mys­tery for mas­sages; and of course there is sex and sen­su­al­ity, men and women in the heat wear­ing noth­ing or wings or gossamer.

During the night, an entirely dif­fer­ent space emerges, like some intense cross between Mad Max, Per­dido Street Sta­tion and the car­ni­val scene from AI, neon and LEDs and glow sticks and el wire wrapped around bicycle tyres and bodies and art cars vying with mech­an­ical mon­sters and post-punks in their very own Thun­der Dome. Off to one side, a roller rink has been set up. Else­where, an enorm­ous mech­an­ical sun­flower dances with an enorm­ous mech­an­ical venus fly trap. A man rides by, seem­ingly on fire but it is more art: a per­fect figure of a man on a per­fect figure of a bike, doused in kero and set alight, pulled along by a black-clad figure on an adja­cent bike so you can’t see him in the jet of the night.

And ah! The stars! On a chill desert night, the sky above Black Rock City glints with sharp white lights.

The night of the Man’s burn, I spent with hyper­people and a friend of his from col­lege, a grand night, a spe­cial night. The next night, the temple burned, and uchro­nia, the most amaz­ing struc­ture ever, blazed, moments of raw and primal intensity. 

There is so much to write and I will try to cap­ture more of the art and more of my impres­sions at some point, but right now I’m going for a swim. Tomor­row, we will go to Harbin Hot Springs for a few days and then who knows? 

One thing I have cer­tainly learnt in these past few days is some­thing we saw as graf­fiti the first day we were there: love is let­ting go of fear.