Vagabond Ventures: Tales of a Modern Nomad

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