The dead man began his story:

“Once there was a man named Sisyphus who kept a beautiful farm, full of fertile, black soil (this was after he had decided to let the boulder roll away long ago). As he expanded his land, he excavated a beautiful assortment of statues made from varying substances: marble, bronze, and a few made of pure gold.

He took these artifacts to a traveling merchant, who paid a great sum of money for them. The two parted ways, and each became lost in their own thoughts.

Thought Sisyphus: ‘What a great sum of money. I might finally make a life for myself. I can’t believe someone would be foolish enough to pay for a worthless set of minerals, just to cart them around. I know better now. I will never push another boulder for the rest of my days. I will invest this money and surely see returns. This will be my new pursuit — if I gather more, I will surely find happiness.’

Thought the merchant: ‘How could anyone part with such beauty! What life, what souls these must contain. Thousands of dreams are represented herein. To part with such a collection of possibility for mere money — that poor boy’s pursuit is my gain, I suppose.’”