by Eric Pestalozzi
The incredulous look she gave me as I handed her a slice of ice cold cantaloupe. It was 90 degrees and she was just strolling by my camp. The garbage sack was waiting on the rind.
A meltingly skilled massage by a long haired young woman in Center Camp. In return, she received an observation on the environmental paradox of the two most amazing places I’ve experienced, Black Rock and the middle of the Himalayas, 16,000 ft higher.
Pancakes in Center Camp!!!
Pinky’s Pirate Bar gave to all that had the great fortune to stumble upon its glowing Pinkness. In return for bits and pieces of fruit and mixer, Pinky and crew gave the citizens of BRC love, punch, amazing sounds, and pole dancing. What more could you hope for?
The Burn gave me awe. Mesmerized by twirling, cavorting fire dancers, everyone but me sat down. I needed to stand! I needed to jump and shout! Citizens behind me got tense. I got tense. Dammit, this was my burn! Crouched to my left, a hand reached up and took my hand. A voice whispered, “Sit here with me.” The stranger put his arm across my shoulders, saying, “It’ll be cool man, don’t worry.” He gave me his smile, his stillness amongst the frenzy. It was good.
The Temple of Tears gave me a chance to say “good-bye, I miss you.”
The bike whispered through the cool night air, the paganistic delight of the Burn a distant glow. The coal blackness gave way before a vision of loveliness that stopped me cold. Walking toward me was a beautiful, extremely naked young woman with flowing blond tresses. She asked how my Burn had been. As I finished describing my bliss, she gathered me in her arms, hugging me tightly, and said, “Have an amazing Life.” She faded into the darkness as I gazed after her.
It’s the Giving.