Algerian Arabs

The light that bounces off the knife of the Arab is like a shot at Meursault, stabbing his eyes and forehead. His eyes are blurred by sweat and salt. Each detail and element evident in Camus' narrative lead to Meursault's physical state when he shoots, but none are responsible. Meursault alone is. He is as removed from reality and social context at this moment as every moment. He squeezes the trigger without intent. Each small act is singular. He realizes that he has shattered his happy harmonious life -- so why fire four more times? What kind of monster can this be? He will later stress to the reader that he is really like everyone else. What does this say about man and our struggle in the world? Is there another solution to living than blame or indifference? The shots are the peak of Meursault's physical life. In order to transcend this blurred dazed drunkenness he consumes, he must knock "on the door of unhappiness."