The Frog Pond on the Boston Common becomes an ice skating rink in the winter. Mostly, folks just slowly circle, chatting, arms flailing, falling, laughing - enjoying the sensation of sliding over the icy surface, the sound of steel blade on cold ice distinctive in all the world.
And sometimes, there will be someone who marches to the beat of a different drummer - who slides and pirouettes and gesticulates, oblivious to the crowd around watching him/her. A legend in his own mind. A champion figure skater. I would bet he is the kind of person who dances as if no one is watching. I like that.