Public nudity is commonplace at Burning Man, as is occasional drug use and drinking. But despite this, I don't recall a SINGLE negative incident taking place over the course of the entire week-long festival. What this tells me is that drug use, debauchery, and a lack of law enforcement doesn't necessarily constitute the automatic need to freak out and wreak havoc. It's a party atmosphere, yet everyone gets along, and the feeling of peace which blankets the Playa during this time is its own form of law enforcement. Burning Man is like some kind of post-apocalyptic desert-dwelling colony which has perfected the art of anarchy. I was raised by Punks, and I was once an anarchist. I wanted to change the world and release society from the System which strove to brainwash us all. So I threw rocks at riot shields and climbed the walls of City Hall and shouted insults at police officers and soldiers on the MAX train. I thought that Anarchy could only be achieved through violence - by FIGHTING the System. And what is borne of violence is, in turn, violent in nature. Anarchy, then, was not a peaceful concept to me, but it was freedom, and I felt justified. It's been years since I considered myself an Anarchist, though the idea is still appealing to me in that I'd be perfectly capable and ready to survive in a world without order (this is another contributing factor in my decision to pursue wilderness survival training, in case you were wondering). At any rate, Burning Man changed my perception of Anarchy from something violent and impossible to achieve to something peaceful and (surprisingly) quite REAL. You're allowed to do anything you want, as long as it doesn't impede on others' ability to enjoy Black Rock City. So the porta-potties are covered in poetry, the street signs have been changed from names like "Divorce" to "DOUBLE RAINBOW!" and nearly everywhere you look, someone is expressing their creativity to the rest of the Playa in a manner that is totally and completely their own (one man was riding by on his bike, telling all the women what their tits looked like at the top of his lungs. He said, "Your breasts are like puckered lips, waiting for a kiss!" as he passed by me. My expression was probably the dictionary definition of "WHAT THE FUCK?!").

...and what is that thing in your hands?" The two doe I've been seeing regularly out back came around right after dinner, so I wandered out to see if I could get some pics. When I stepped out into the backyard where they could see me, I walked towards the back of my property instead of directly towards them. They came to attention, but stood their ground. When I got to the edge of the woods I sat down in the grass and sat very still. I think that I really confused them. This one actually walked over pretty close to me to get a better look. Finally they decided that perhaps it would be safer if they headed back to the safety of the trees and went back in the woods.