Gustitos qu
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 onto his right , he always rolled back to where he was . He must have tried it a hundred times , shut his eyes so that he wouldn ’ t have to look at the floundering legs , and only stopped when he began to feel a mild , dull pain there that he had never felt before . “ Oh , God ”, he thought , “ what a strenuous career it is that I ’ ve chosen ! Travelling day in and day out . Doing business like this takes much more effort than doing your own business at home , and on top of that there ’ s the curse of