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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
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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
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
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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
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
