I return from Burning Man. Yesterday, we rose at 5am before sunrise in the dark desert to beat the exodus traffic out of Burning Man. We reached the exit gate without delay. I struggled to stay awake. Greg and I drove for 10 hours from Black Rock City, Nevada to San Francisco, California with a brief breakfast in Sparks and a storage-locker drop in Reno.
Upon entering my apartment, I took a long shower. I shed dust into the bathtub. Unused to water, my skin wrinkled. I took a nap at 5pm, woke at midnight for a bowl of granola, and sleep until 8am. The desert week had worn me out.
It is Labor Day, the 1st of September. Fall feels the air. I am discombobulated.
My apartment looks different again, but different from when I returned from my 4-month road trip. Everything is now so clean and organized. I have so much space. My sublettor Chris called the design “Burner Chic,” so I do feel at home right after the Playa. I sort and wash as antidotes to the desert chaos.
On the street, I notice the tops of building and the surrounding brown hills. In time, my gaze will narrow back to the dirty sidewalks, storefronts and other pedestrians. For now, I avoid crowds. I need solitude, not conversation.
I’ll unpack the car today, do some laundry, and perhaps cook a dinner. Although I slept for fifteen hours, I am still quite weary. Hurray Burning Man.