I’m standing in a field in the middle of the country in the middle of the night, watching a glittering set from the American synth-pop duo Magdalena Bay. Midway through the groove of Killing Time, as colours and costumes swirl on stage, my cousin taps me on the shoulder and points to the sky. Thousands of strangers look up at the same time as a star burns slowly across the black night.
The next day my friend tells me it wasn’t a shooting star, but rather space junk. But we agree that whatever it was encapsulated a weekend at Golden Plains: a place where magic appears unexpectedly, and not all is as it seems.
