Δαφνη Ευτυχια Αρθουρος

I love the way silmaril writes. Today, in the middle of a longer set of impressions she wrote:

A lone accordion player was playing Christmas carols to a sparse Mall in Central Park. A girl stood there some ten paces away, bouncing to find a balance step, until their eyes met. The accordionist transformed the carol to a 3/4 tempo and the girl waltzed all the way to his busker's box to drop a dollar. Within twenty steps, Central Park felt like far, far away, even with all the buildings around and visible over the treetops. I got to see something I'd never seen in my life---ducks skidding on ice, as they landed after short flights or tried to waddle to bread pieces thrown to them.

Not the only magical paragraph, just the one I most felt like quoting.