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Metamorphosis

Metamorphosis? Franz Kafka
Translated by David Wyllie
I
One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he
found himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin. He lay
on his armour-like back, and if he lifted his head a little he could
see his brown belly, slightly domed and divided by arches into stiff
sections. The bedding was hardly able to cover it and seemed ready
to slide off any moment. His many legs, pitifully thin compared
with the size of the rest of him, waved about helplessly as he
looked.
"What's happened to me?" he thought. It wasn't a dream. His room,
a proper human room although a little too small, lay peacefully
between its four familiar walls. A collection of textile samples lay
spread out on the table - Samsa was a travelling salesman - and
above it there hung a picture that he had recently cut out of an
illustrated magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame. It showed
a lady fitted out with a fur hat and fur boa who sat upright, raising
a heavy fur muff that covered the whole of her lower arm towards
the viewer.
Gregor then turned to look out the window at the dull weather.
Drops of rain could be heard hitting the pane, which made him feel
quite sad. "How about if I sleep a little bit longer and forget all this
nonsense", he thought, but that was something he was unable to do
because he was used to sleeping on his right, and in his present
state couldn't get into that position. However hard he threw himself
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