The lawn of Boston Common, the low sloping part from the merry-go-round and the frog pond to the road that cut between the Common and the Public Garden, was a crowd. Of all sorts of people, old and young, black and Asian and white and brown, skinny and fat and short and tall, and they were all in costume, and because they were all in costume, it was like looking straight into their hearts at what they loved or who they wanted to be.
