I was in Nevada, exploring the deep outer reaches of the Burning Man Playa on my bike. The sun had just set and to my surprise the florescent lights of a lone building appeared on the desert plain in the distance. I rode my way over to find an artwork installation of a small gas station. There were a few people milling about, taking it all in, including a father and his little baby, who I found out were from Israel. I tentatively asked if they might like their photo taken and he enthusiastically agreed. I was very fortunate to be aided by the lighting of the gas station, an impromptu delightful portrait setup not usually found in the deep playa of the Burning Man festival.