// February 16 //
I loved the rush of cold wintry wind as I whooshed around the Bryant Park skating rink as fast as my skates would take me. I started out really wobbly, but I forced myself not to cling onto the sides of the rink. There was something so magical about skating in the concrete jungle among the mass of skyscrapers framing the park. Everything was great, until I slipped and landed really hard on my bum. But everything else — apart from the fall — was quite magical.