[ GLYPH ] and I snuck into the back of a camp whose speciality must have been something like Paperwork Camp because many people, myself included, had to take a test that had been purposefully written to be bonkers. Like many things I read in my dreams the forms were canted and wobbly. Like a bad impression of bureaucratic bullshit.

I was already on my feet, the inability to focus acting as a perfect reason to bail out of something that was volunteer anyway. Knowing that [ GLYPH ] might actually get a kick out of participating fully in the performance art I promised to circle back a few times. The first time I circled he was there. The second time he was not.

A long straight dirt road served as the backbone from which the rest of the city’s architecture has blossomed from. Everything was along this road. I walked along it my heart’s goal to seek my companion.

I approached two storied scaffolding that arched over the backbone road like a scared cat. It’s bare metal pipes exposed, and attaching bolts rusted a bit in the humid air. Looking up overhead I saw the feet of people clambering into slides, swings, monkey bars, all arranged strangley in a long single file line that wound all over and around the interior building like structure of the scaffolding. Ropes and squeaking boards.

I didn’t want to get in line with the people in the scaffolding. My attention rested on a long stand for shaved ice. I approached, checking out their flavors. The kind woman suggestion I get every single glavor as a flavor, handing me a small cup filled with orange shaved ice. She said it was cumin flavored. I happily gulped it down, tasteless to my person within this space.

Wandering and nomming my cumin shaved ice I noticed that the dirt path tapered off to the side. Surely a tendril of the burn I’d not seen yet. The humidity in the air increased by 100% when my focus turned to the vast ocean beyond the ropes and squeaking boards that had been in my periphery. Over a small sand hill waves smashed against god like dark rocks. Small wet dark flags flapped heavily in the wind, strewn between two canted wooden poles. Small lights hung in the air with them.

Still searching for [ GLYPH ] I decided to head to the Gate. The dirt road gave way revealing a cobblestone path toward a beautifully manicured stone home. A lot of very weathly looking people sat in a neat driveway all facing a stage on top of which was [ GLYPH FOR NOBODY ]. He was large and dressed as Santa Claus.I thought this was a shareholders meeting for the burn. Sitting at tables. Getting catering.