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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.
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.