JoGray Friday morning is at 7 p.m. My body is in Kilburn, north London, craving a cookie, but my mind is saved on the vast alkaline plain of the Black Rock Desert in Nevada, where the annual Burning Man festival is held.
It’s been six years since I personally attended Burning Man, a dusty, exhausting week of depravity and excess that left me empty and helpless for months. I swore I would never go back, but I was persuaded to go back, as I can now bear it from the comfort of my kitchen table. Yes, this year’s event is held online, allowing old and new “burners” to reunite as they await the pandemic retreat and real-life fun