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From Chris Urquhart:

October 11, 2017

After all, burners have an insatiable thirst for fire. Burners constantly burn shit. At night, neon-lit school buses slouch down the dusty streets shooting fireworks. Huge flamethrowers sit atop six-foot-tall moving structures. There is a replica of New York’s Wall Street, which will eventually burn to the ground, black smoke billowing. People are burnt, broken, and some die. That evening, standing on a tall scaffold, blasting a flamethrower forward into the Nevada night, I feel very comfortable. People here live outwardly, honestly. I’m drawn to the extremity, the open chaos, the wild flame. Wearing a top hat, I traverse the playa on foot, shoes coated in a thick layer of sludge.

Dirty Kids


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