a good one, first and foremost. As fellow burners/dreamers/cosmic moon people can imagine, its heinously difficult to summarize or even bound these feelings and thoughts and sights and tastes into the whitebred confines of the english dictionary.
for me it was a lot of pinks, rose colored auras, touching eric's kitty sweater made out of woven milk and spider's silk, the luke warm water temperature of center camp, the graham cracker dust I stopped giving a damn about, mouths, eyes, hair, linens, fabrics, sucking candies, our rickety ole' love boat that had carried lovers through trecherous times for centuries, the scrap metal steel worshipers, praying for stephanie, melting into eric's lap in tears or menaical laughter (whichever came first), cold cold apple juice and my boots...OHHHHHHHHH my boots.
these aren't my photographs, they belong to Rob Roy, who we were fortunate enough to crash into a few times out on the playa.
thank you rob roy.
this place was very special to me. a tree house. the love seat window proved to be quite a sanctuary for the goofairy.
you just, you just can't imagine how cool this is. think flip book reality mind fuck extravaganza. simply wild.
the burn. I watched curled beside a lover, that was swell. we both melted a bit I think. the explosion made our bones rattle.
I'm still recovering...singed eyebrows and such.
boys like things like this. unbelievable, these artists, they just must be crazy... I mean...how? what? geez.
E-ROD and I stood right below this. yup, its true.
sending such firm warm embraces to the 'scabies awareness camp'. what an amazing ride eh?
I miss you all so much, please come back here and check on me in the next few months.
you're the reason I'll still be psyched up to move back to davis after a year of exploring. such great hearts.
next year... less grape seed extract and more juice.
loveshan
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