You approach a volcanic pile of wood assembled for the night’s fire works. A work of fire.
The pyre is lit. The blaze begins; ravenously licking, crackling, snapping.
As the initial energy is spent, you notice it: a lightless figure in the midst of the light. A black hole within the sun. Its pull is magnetic; gravitational. The shadow of a man, the darkness that fuels the fire. Charred, but not yet consumed. A human sacrifice, slowly smouldering.
For weeks, neither you nor the others who were there can think of anything else. Singed, none of you can make anything that does not contain fire. This fire.
To see more of Peter von Tiesenhausen's work, go to http://www.tiesenhausen.net. Or click on any of the following links to posts on this blog: burning man; a book of days; or approaches.