Don't it always seem to go/That you don't know what you got 'til it's gone/They paved paradise/And put up a parking lot - Joni Mitchell Big Yellow Taxi.

Well Joni, the big, open space outside the Landgent Shopping Center wasn't completely paradise. It was right on the corner of the Third Ring Road and Guangqu Lu - with scores, if not hundreds, of vehicles passing by each minute, plenty of honking and the air often thick with smog and grit.

And wasn't exactly unpaved, pristine green space. It was covered with some sort of outdoor granite tiles.

But it was nice, it really was.

In the evening, when the rush of traffic ebbed somewhat, the crowd of commuters scurrying in and out of Shuangjing subway station thinned and the darkening skies softened the jarring visual impact of any haze, the square became peaceful. Or about as peaceful as it gets next to a ring road in Beijing.

A few lights around the square would pop on with a warming glow. Not long after, people of all ages would gather in the open space. Most of them were middle-aged or seniors. They'd set up a stereo, get some classical music playing, partner up and start dancing, all twirls and smiles, across the square.

A cynical person might find it a bit hokey but it always seemed genuinely fun in an innocent and charming way. Its value was easy to see in the frequency with which participants laughed.

There were usually many other people out making good use of the square: One or two older men using a giant brush and water to practice artful calligraphy, several pairs of younger people batting badminton birdies back and forth with racquets and a group of middle-aged women dexterously kicking around a jianzi (a feathered Chinese hacky sack). Often they invited bystanders to join in.

They were all just out enjoying life the way it should be enjoyed; having a good time and soaking up each other's company. The square was a de facto community gathering spot and a recreation center.

Now it's a parking lot.

Painted yellow lines and marking vehicle spots, have divvied up the dance floor. Cars and vans clog the calligraphy canvas. And those white, knee-high iron fences that are ubiquitous in Beijing keep any would-be badminton players at bay.

What a fantastic idea, just brilliant. Who needs a lively public space that engenders community spirit? Clearly, another soulless shopping mall is a much more urgent priority. And when the underground parking lot of the mall gets too busy (as it seems the one under the Landgent center did) why let a few waltzing seniors get in the way? Kick them out of the square, pave it over, paint it up, park your BMW and then shop, shop, shop.

The dancers have apparently moved around behind the Landgent center to a much smaller spot, tucked away from public view. The Landgent developers seem to allow them to keep two-stepping there either out of benevolence (Geez, such largesse) or because they don't care. Or at least they don't care until they want to turn that spot into a parking lot too.

It's nice that local residents can keep dancing, practicing calligraphy or otherwise recreating somewhere in the area. But it's a real shame that commuters on the way out of Shuangjing subway station now get to wind around rows of empty, black sedans instead of coming face-to-face with a neighborhood's worth of people making merry.