Frantic search for blinkies & fur, desperate pleas for cheap tickets.

Realising we don't have nearly enough money for this trip despite everyone's generosity but fuck it; we're going now.

Typing all day like a corporate demon and then sewing all night like an east end sweatshop bitch. Finishing the day off with a call to my love rounding up any Burner news.

Dragging myself out of bed, eyes scratchy and mouth dry after sleepless nights filled with nightmares of unimaginable horrors. Riding my bike to work, head filled with thoughts of dust and love.

The muslim family next door gathering to peer out the window and whisper to each other as Turtle burns a 5 foot by 3 foot Union jack in the yard, supended off the washing line. No we're not wierd - it's art don't you know.

Not even allowing myself to think about packing yet. All projects remain unfinished and baggage restrictions still apply. Fuck!

Yes I do love Burning Man but this is hard, this bit is.