Status Updates From تانغو الخراب

László has done what Camus couldn't — consider the absurd without needing it to resolve. Not happiness, nor defiance, but something harder, honest: that meaning can be made from within, without the need to go on imagining Sisyphus happy. The act of writing is his proof — not of the absurd's defeat, but that the leap is possible — within the absurd. Camus still needs his defiance to be enough. László requires nothing.

Maybe it's all just me getting ahead of myself, but I'm starting to entertain an hypothesis.