Pointless (?) Movement
He stepped down from the large glass building and exited through the small side door. He immediately felt the wind chilling his face and tousling his hair. He was wearing a dark gray coat with the collar turned up and had his hands in his pockets.
He took a few steps on the colorless marble raised enclosure of the building. Then he stopped and looked ahead. Dark clouds had descended low, blocking any hint of horizon, almost covering the rooftops of the last buildings of the large companies that spread out sparsely beneath his feet like children's LEGO constructions against a green foggy background.
He looked again and again, carefully, slowly, to the right and left, and then back ahead, at the widest possible angle, like a wide-angle lens of an experienced photographer who, with the camera steady, meticulously scans every possibility of change in the image, with a steady reference to the large glass building behind him that he knew was there even without seeing it.
All this lasted for a few moments. Then, having confirmed once again the utterly predictable nature of the image and the proportions of the sizes among them and -most importantly- with his own, only then did he take the package out of his pocket, confidently took a cigarette, brought it to his lips, and lit it.
And then, blowing the smoke slowly forward, smiling ironically, with his right hand he straightened his tousled hair while the wind continued to mess it up.
This was the only pointless movement that a careful observer could have noted in the entire area that afternoon, he thought proudly. And it was intentional, he added with even greater satisfaction, addressing the supposed observer.
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