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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,
˛ °_██_*。*./ \ .˛* .˛.*.★* *★ 。*
˛. (´• ̮•)*˛°*/.♫.♫\*˛.* ˛_Π_____. * ˛*
.°( . • . ) ˛°./• '♫ ' •\.˛*./______/~\ *. ˛*.。˛* ˛. *。
*(...'•'.. ) *˛╬╬╬╬╬˛°.|田田 |門|╬╬╬╬ .
¯˜"*°•♥•°*"˜¯`´¯˜"*°•♥•°*"˜¯` ´¯˜"*°´¯˜"*°•♥•°*"˜¯`´¯˜"*°•