Morning Maybe it's the heat that wakes you up, the sun beating on the side of your tent almost as soon as it clears the horizon. Last night you closed all the windows to keep the dust out, but now you stagger to your feet and zip them all open. Pausing, you can just hear the sound of the rave you were at all night, still pounding out somewhere on the other arm of Burning Man. You brush your teeth with as little water as possible, root around for some food, sit eating it while you watch others emerge blinking into the sharp light. You greet your neighbors, trade stories about what you saw and did last night, wonder what time it is but decide not to check. Then you think about putting some clothes on.