I hold onto it like the closely guarded secret, close to my heart and closed fist. Probably it has to do something with the fact that it does not exist or it is so feeble, fragile that if you just let out a whisper, it will vanish in the thin air. It keeps them amused though.
They look at Sisyphus and are happy to know that he finds happiness, in the absurdity. But Sisyphus had nothing to do with it, the happiness part nor the absurdity. He was just another Mongolian horse, running around. And I believe he did it because it made them happy, by believing that he was happy, fulfilled. The myth of Sisyphus lives on.
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