Meursault grabbed him by the cassock. For the first time, he shouted.
Meursault was not a cruel man. He was simply a man who forgot to perform grief. libro el extranjero de albert camus
The prosecutor rose. “Gentlemen of the jury, a man who buries his mother with a hollow heart—then kills a man in cold blood—is a monster not of passion, but of absence. He has no soul. He has no place among the living.” Meursault grabbed him by the cassock
One Sunday, the sun was a blade. Raymond’s Arab mistress’s brother followed them to a spring by the beach. He drew a knife. It glittered. Meursault held Raymond’s revolver. The heat pressed down—a silent, heavy lid. The sea gasped. The sand burned through his soles. He was simply a man who forgot to perform grief
He was sentenced to death by guillotine.