The twirlers respond. My gaze switching and floating as I walk, swimming in the senses. I turn toward the openness of the playa, the temperature drops and the view opens up. Walking still towards the bright lights and eventually I am surrounded by them. The surges begin.
Music pounds out of tents too many to count, too many to hear or choose between.
So I go to each one by one, experience and move when I feel like it. Techno, house, big tent, small tent, lounge, rock, disco. A funky quartet called Stratosphere works their instruments effortlessly atop a silvery platform. Saxophone and double bass weaving between each other like otters playing in summer streams. I stand on the edge of this hedonist's parallel universe, staring along the circle of lights that reached around me.