I wanted a photo of my morning attire, and the campsite, at the end of the week, and this is it.
Pictured here is myself, in my red silk bath-robe, my goggles around my neck, my military pants, and my boots. To the left is Nate's fearsome bike, emblazoned with a Tribal-style mask that lit up and shot lasers out of its eyes at night, and behind me is a Tardis that has "crash-landed".
Mornings were my favorite. I found this to be a strange time of day... the city mostly quiet, with only little trickles of music and yawns punctuating the dusty air... with a handful of camps moving sluggishly as they stretched out in the sun or laid strips of bacon on their grill. I found the heat and light to be too unbearable inside my tent and traveled alone in this attire, searching for conversations, new art, and fresh faces. Sometimes I craved solitude and stayed at the camp until my camp-mates woke. But most mornings, I was out and about before everyone else, ready to tackle the day. Which is particularly strange and unusual if you know anything about my typical morning habits (hiding under the covers and bemoaning my alarms).
