![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ‘Why don’t I keep sleeping for a little while longer and forget all this foolishness,’ he thought. The dreary weather (the rain drops were falling audibly down on the metal window ledge) made him quite melancholy. Gregor’s glance then turned to the window. She sat erect there, lifting up in the direction of the viewer a solid fur muff into which her entire forearm disappeared. It was a picture of a woman with a fur hat and a fur boa. Above the table, on which an unpacked collection of sample cloth goods was spread out (Samsa was a traveling salesman) hung the picture which he had cut out of an illustrated magazine a little while ago and set in a pretty gilt frame. His room, a proper room for a human being, only somewhat too small, lay quietly between the four well-known walls. His numerous legs, pitifully thin in comparison to the rest of his circumference, flickered helplessly before his eyes. From this height the blanket, just about ready to slide off completely, could hardly stay in place. He lay on his armour-hard back and saw, as he lifted his head up a little, his brown, arched abdomen divided up into rigid bow-like sections. One morning, as Gregor Samsa was waking up from anxious dreams, he discovered that in bed he had been changed into a monstrous verminous bug. ![]()
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