![]() ![]() Devil take it!’ He felt a light itch at the top of his belly slid a little closer to the bedpost, so as to be able to raise his head a little more effectively found the itchy place, which was covered with a sprinkling of white dots the significance of which he was unable to interpret assayed the place with one of his legs, but hurriedly withdrew it, because the touch caused him to shudder involuntarily. The work is so much more strenuous than it would be in head office, and then there’s the additional ordeal of travelling, worries about train connections, the irregular, bad meals, new people all the time, no continuity, no affection. ‘If only I didn’t have to follow such an exhausting profession! On the road, day in, day out. He must have tried it a hundred times, closing his eyes so as not to have to watch his wriggling legs, and only stopped when he felt a slight ache in his side which he didn’t recall having felt before. However vigorously he flung himself to his right, he kept rocking on to his back. ![]() ‘What if I went back to sleep for a while, and forgot about all this nonsense?’ he thought, but that proved quite impossible, because he was accustomed to sleeping on his right side, and in his present state he was unable to find that position. It was a picture of a lady in a fur hat and stole, sitting bolt upright, holding in the direction of the onlooker a heavy fur muff into which she had thrust the whole of her forearm.įrom there, Gregor’s gaze directed itself towards the window, and the drab weather outside – raindrops could be heard plinking against the tin window ledges – made him quite melancholy. Over the table, on which an array of cloth samples was spread out – Samsa was a travelling salesman – hung the picture he had only recently clipped from a magazine, and set in an attractive gilt frame. There, quietly between the four familiar walls, was his room, a normal human room, if always a little on the small side. His numerous legs, pathetically frail by contrast to the rest of him, waved feebly before his eyes. He lay on his tough, armoured back, and, raising his head a little, managed to see – sectioned off by little crescent-shaped ridges into segments – the expanse of his arched, brown belly, atop which the coverlet perched, forever on the point of slipping off entirely. When Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from troubled dreams, he found himself changed into a monstrous cockroach in his bed. ![]()
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