The Anti Team Player
Today was the first proper day of summer and the streets were full of beautiful young people making their presences felt. Young women showed off soft round breasts while cocky men paraded virile lithe physiques. This heady assault of becomingly desirous flesh can easily flood one’s senses with insecurity. But standing on the outside, so to speak, and watching all these people play familiar I’m-too-sexy-for-my-shirt roles reminded me of similar other roles we all are compelled to play: at work, at weddings, with friends, in court. Is this all there is to living? And yet in a hundred years, no one alive then will care. They’ll all be up to their own little games. Meursault, the central character in Albert Camus’ excellent book L’Etranger (translated The Stranger or The Outsider), is one of those lucky people who realise that truth to self demands casting off other people’s expectations. Do what you want. But can you really? For instance, can you murder another person …. just because? Should you? Camus’ book is a shock to the system and it filled me with nervousness.