At 2:00 in the morning, I was at a mobile ramen cart in Deep Playa. Four strangers sat eating together. None of them appeared to speak the same language. One had a ukulele strapped to his back.

Somehow, through gestures and a few shared words, they discovered that all four of their birthdays fell in the same month. One began singing “Happy Birthday” in Japanese. The ukulele came out immediately.

Then they took turns singing the song in their own languages, one birthday at a time.

It was a hot, windless afternoon. A group had gathered beneath a half-sunken pirate ship when a boy approached with a beautiful kite that had just been gifted to him. Everyone, including his father, told him there was not enough wind.

The subject noticed the look on the boy’s face, stood up, and said, “Let’s do this.” The subject ran out across the Playa, tugging the kite higher inch by inch as the boy followed with unwavering hope. By the time it finally caught the air, they had traveled so far that his father was barely visible behind them.

The subject handed him the string. The boy could be heard shouting at the top of his lungs, “This is the best day ever.”

A woman stopped me after dark and tied a small blinking light to my coat. She said, “Now people can find you.” I did not ask who was looking.

I followed the sound of cheering and found a wedding taking place in the middle of the street. No chairs. No aisle. No one seemed to know the couple. When they kissed, everyone threw dust into the air.

The subject was observed wandering across the Playa near sunrise with no apparent destination. He followed the music until he found himself dancing beneath a sky waiting for sun. When he asked me who was playing, I told him it was Monolink. He was ecstatic. It was his favorite artist.

At the end of the set, Monolink reminded the crowd that being at Burning Man is a privilege and that they should love one another. He then stepped down from the stage and into the crowd, where the subject approached and hugged him.