The Man Burns: It Means Whatever You Want It To

From the 2004 Burn. Note dust particles magnified in the air. This is how I described the burn in Festival Madness.

Weird and wonderful shapes descended from the sky, lit by a yellow moon that crept above the mountains. The fire dancers swirled like dervishes, and drums throbbed in the eerie light where glow sticks burned like neon candles. I was eerily conscious of each detail of this carnival night with its colors, sounds, tastes, smells and the absolute anticipation. The dancers spun in their circles of fire, and the drums pounded to a crescendo. Alone, the neon man loomed over the desert, canopied by thousands of twinkling stars.
The ritual began with a massive barrage of shooting rockets and fireworks illuminating the man, then a blaze of fire and a magic conflagration roared to life in a frenzy of heat and flames. The inferno raced up one of the man’s legs and consumed him bit by bit even as his triumphant arms remained raised, as in defiance. Everyone was yelling and shouting and music thumped out of a hundred speakers. In an eruption of galactic grandeur, the Man was burning bright. The Man was burning. ©

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