All of Portland saw Bandaloop. People packed Monument Square, and from there the city watched dancers swing, suspended from the roof of One City Center. Hung by ropes, they bounded across glass and brick in flowy costumes, pink and green streaks linking arms, tossing one another and jumping in unison. They danced like birds, cutting through the air in great swoops, the music leading each movement, the blue of the sky serving as their backdrop, the late afternoon sun their spotlight.

It was a free gift, the sort of thing someone could wander into — out for a Friday night in the Old Port, and suddenly you’re watching the most graceful dance in the most unlikely of places.