The entrances to New York City’ office buildings are usually crowded with smokers taking a last pull on a cigarette before going back to work. I abstract this smoker down to just the front half of his head, an arm, and a creased hand grasping the filter between the thumb and forefinger. We are left with a flash of cuff, one closed eye and a lifetime of smoking, all of it squeezed between unyielding pillars of marble.