The sun?s rays beat heavy upon the host that morning. It was a Saturday, the same day of the week that all of this had begun. Only a few months ago had those gunshots shattered his life and mine, but it seemed exchangeable two different lives now.
There was a decently with child(p) crowd, but I did not seem to belong among them. They were milled in their everyday attire, waiting impatiently to get a view of him where I was dressed in black; the wring seemed more than appropriate for what was going to come. As I stood I could hear people chatting among themselves. Many were speaking of him, talking rough the ?horrific? crime he committed.
?He?s a heartless bastard! Someone who doesn?t however olfactory property regret for his mother?s death or even the slightest bit of remorse for killing someone deserves worse than this. He shall rot in hell for what he?s through!?The hatred from the crowd radiated around me, which do me feel push through of place because I felt nothing but sorrow and pity. Meursault wasn?t a horrible person, he just made a mistake.
Time passed and the sun grew higher in the sky. The crowd was becoming more and more impatient.
Every few proceeding someone else would yell something that stung me; something about him, the man I had once loved or maybe still did love. rase though everyone around me was shouting for the guards to bring him out, I was hoping they never would, hoping that maybe- by some miracle- that they would release him; that maybe someone would label he didn?t deserve this. It was a false desire that had been with me since the day I had heard of his sentence, a hope that was care poison. If I allowed myself to think...
If you want to get a full essay, wisit our page: write my paper
No comments:
Post a Comment