Skaters
There they were, each in a seemingly cocooned world, all as if choreographed to a tilting perfection. Each person twirled and expressed in individualistic style, some were coached, others imagined on their own and yet there were some who moved in synchronised style, not just physically but in spirit. You could see that a few took a break after a short stint, while in contrast, some could not stop, and only did when there was a lack of space.
Most telling was how one reacted when there was an unintentional fall. The younger ones took all this more in their stride, and the older novices tended to be less sure of how to pick one's self up. More interesting was how a learner looked up to the mentor and watched in earnestness the graciousness of the teacher's moves. Even more rewarding was how the instructors had this satisfaction in their faces when they realised that their proteges had moved on to another stage of their passion. Maybe it takes more than just stirring interest to spend hours in the cold above frozen ice, maybe it's therapy that is provided with the flow and repetitive moves.
Some were too methodical and serious in their intentions, and that may have inhibited true expression. Yet others approached the whole thing as an informal Sunday stroll, without a care in the world. There were those who were not afraid to hold hands in public. There were those who wanted to hold hands but could not. All knew they were being observed and yet did not care. They were entertaining their inner need to dance their joy or worries away. Yet some had a goal and knew they had to work persistently on it. Some came with an open mind or because they wanted to accompany a loved one. Some did not expect anything and had a sheer experience of discovering something precious previously hidden from them.
The music in their hearts were at times accompanied by the music blaring from the speakers. This activity offered a chance to synchronise one's physical moves with light, sound and other senses. I could see some practising over and over again their favourite moves, while not far away, a youngster was gradually gaining confidence in starting some move he had long dreamnt of being able to do. Even if every body seemed to be doing something different at any one time on the rink, they exuded a common sense of purpose over one flat piece of space. At most times, there was silence, but then comes the spontaneous squeak and howl, and the inevitable laughter of sheer enjoyment.
Most telling was how one reacted when there was an unintentional fall. The younger ones took all this more in their stride, and the older novices tended to be less sure of how to pick one's self up. More interesting was how a learner looked up to the mentor and watched in earnestness the graciousness of the teacher's moves. Even more rewarding was how the instructors had this satisfaction in their faces when they realised that their proteges had moved on to another stage of their passion. Maybe it takes more than just stirring interest to spend hours in the cold above frozen ice, maybe it's therapy that is provided with the flow and repetitive moves.
Some were too methodical and serious in their intentions, and that may have inhibited true expression. Yet others approached the whole thing as an informal Sunday stroll, without a care in the world. There were those who were not afraid to hold hands in public. There were those who wanted to hold hands but could not. All knew they were being observed and yet did not care. They were entertaining their inner need to dance their joy or worries away. Yet some had a goal and knew they had to work persistently on it. Some came with an open mind or because they wanted to accompany a loved one. Some did not expect anything and had a sheer experience of discovering something precious previously hidden from them.
The music in their hearts were at times accompanied by the music blaring from the speakers. This activity offered a chance to synchronise one's physical moves with light, sound and other senses. I could see some practising over and over again their favourite moves, while not far away, a youngster was gradually gaining confidence in starting some move he had long dreamnt of being able to do. Even if every body seemed to be doing something different at any one time on the rink, they exuded a common sense of purpose over one flat piece of space. At most times, there was silence, but then comes the spontaneous squeak and howl, and the inevitable laughter of sheer enjoyment.
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