One must imagine Sisyphus happy

There had appeared an object high up in the sky, dashing straight towards the cosmos, apparently escaping earth and its dwellers. It was the early hours of a spring day, but the sun was up at the horizon. The air was still cold and fresh. A man, all alone by himself, was sauntering amid a vast field of lush greens that swayed in the morning breeze. He must have noticed that something was odd with the sky that day. He would have confirmed this conjecture had he looked above right then, for the flying object overhead had now grown double its size, accelerating away from its surroundings. That morning, when it dawned, was inarguably the freshest of the season. The man dressed in his local attire continued walking listlessly amid the fields of green stalks. Any living being might have sensed the mysterious entity right above had there been one other than that lone man, for he did not deign to glance skyward; he had his gaze entirely fixed down at his feet, unperturbed, unstirred. Walking s...