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My notebook lies open in front of me, playa dust embedded in the black covers. I can feel it, see it, smell it.

As usual, it took me a little while to acclimate to the playa. I don't deal well with extreme heat, so I've learned, those first few days, to just find a shaded and breezy spot and take an afternoon nap, to be nocturnal at first.

We'd arrived at 1:00 am, an hour after the gates opened to the general influx, set up our dome, with a crew of 8 (initially, to grow a little later on) it went quickly. A few of us caught some sleep , the virgins though (half our group this time) were so excited, they stayed up all night. I woke mid-morning to find them all passed out, everything set up, but not quite secured the way it should be, the tie-downs not quite done.

Just then Nevena, our Italian fashion designer, strolled into camp. She'd flown out from Milan to attend Burning Man, become part of our camp via e-mail exchanges, and now, after a bus from San Francisco airport with a group of burners, she walked out of the sun like an apparition.

Moments later, the winds picked up what seemed like half the Black Rock desert and hurled it against the emerging city; as if to say, what is this intrusion on my emptiness?

Our dome held, although I had to quickly throw a few ropes over the top to keep the cover from flapping excessively. The new easy-up that would be our kitchen, the one not adequately tied down... I watched it lean, heard the metal snap. By now several tired people had rolled out of tents, as we pulled it back from the brink of disaster. A random stranger walked in and handed us a length of angle iron... "here, you need this more than I do." We quickly duct-taped it to a corner support. A few moments later, with more ropes tied off to vehicle tires and bumpers, we were able to lay down and wait out the dry-storm without any further damage. Our virgins had learned a lesson about complacency in a place where, given half a chance, nature will gladly try to kill you.

Time to go get dinner... more later.