Dave and i were scootering through the jungle towns on the island of Nusa Penida when we accidentally rolled up on a parade of some kind. We had no way of knowing what or why this procession was happening—a lot of people dressed elaborately in whites carrying various but all tall, handmade, flower-filled ornaments like so many flag bearers. Some had gorgeous headdresses of woven palm leaves. There was a Balinese kind of rhythmic metallic percussion that made us pull over just before the procession took over the narrow street. There was no room for us but to gawk and wait, though we discovered later we’d both felt it necessary to avert our eyes as a gesture of respect. Neither of us knew why.

Lately i have been spending time with a group of people who love each other and the world so well that it’s all i can do to admire and be among them. i am delighted to find that nomads exist, in tribes that are genuinely cooperative, non-hierarchical, and prosperous according to their own standards. i was brought here by a lover who vouched for me, and so am not of the group despite my adoration of it. My being a visitor doesn’t stop anyone from treating me like i belong. It does stop me from taking pictures, though i don’t often avert my eyes.

i’m sorry in advance that i cannot share the brilliant camp meals, ingenious build-outs of different rigs (there are three school busses being outfitted down the campground from the spot i’m visiting!), the irish wolfhound who sniffs at the miniature pinscher while the pitbulls play with the german shepherd, the faces of these people when they look at each other, ways they work to fix each other’s rigs, share meals, make art, or the parties.

There are a lot of ways to feel about all of this and a lot of moments to feel all of those ways. Still, one feeling stands out: i’m grateful just to be here.

And so there will not be many photos for you.