The movement draws at him, the music calls to him, and the light shows the way.
Dancers in the gazebo weave and spin and glide across the floor. Music pours forth, filling the world around him. Starlight reflects off the pond’s surface; lanterns shine, hanging from the bridges connecting the gazebo to the rest of the grounds. And the gazebo blazes like a beacon, light pouring out behind the dancers, turning them into half-shadows framed behind white latticework and columns.
Even at a distance, he feels a current leading to the gazebo’s center. The dance is a whirlpool, and he is caught in it.