The Living Statue

I toss a penny at his feet in pity and despair. It neither amuses me, nor do I consider him talented; rather, it troubles me, but a penny is all I can spare to drag this static figure back to life before all is lost. He will not move for fear of losing his footing, but the fellow continues to think without fear of losing his mind. In an instant it is done. What was man has petrified, fused to its plinth in the City, unable to move and unable to want to. I pick up my penny and go.