One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he found 25 | himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin. He lay on 26 | his armour-like back, and if he lifted his head a little he could 27 | see his brown belly, slightly domed and divided by arches into stiff 28 | sections. The bedding was hardly able to cover it and seemed ready 29 | to slide off any moment. His many legs, pitifully thin compared 30 | with the size of the rest of him, waved about helplessly as he 31 | looked.
32 | 33 |"What's happened to me?" he thought. It wasn't a dream. His room, 34 | a proper human room although a little too small, lay peacefully 35 | between its four familiar walls. A collection of textile samples 36 | lay spread out on the table - Samsa was a travelling salesman - and 37 | above it there hung a picture that he had recently cut out of an 38 | illustrated magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame. It showed 39 | a lady fitted out with a fur hat and fur boa who sat upright, 40 | raising a heavy fur muff that covered the whole of her lower arm 41 | towards the viewer.
42 | 43 |-
44 |
- This is a normal comment. 45 |
- This is a marginalia-comment. 46 |