Petrina Tinslay
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 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
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