As Gregor Samsa woke from troubled nightmares, he discovered himself transformed into a gruesome vermin in the morning. He laid on his back in armor, and if he lowered his head slightly, it was possible to observe his belly, which was brown, slightly rounded, and separated by arches, which grew rigid.
Dictumst per ante cras suscipit nascetur ullamcorper in nullam fermentum condimentum torquent iaculis reden posuere potenti viverra condimentum dictumst id tellus suspendisse convallis condimentum.
His bedroom, a typical human space, though a bit too tiny, was tucked away amid its familiar walls. A variety of textile samples were laid out on the table. Samsa was a salesman who traveled.
The mattress was barely enough to keep it from being covered and was poised to fall off at any time. His legs, which were pitifully thin compared to the size and bulk of his body, moved around pathetically while he gazed. “What’s happened to me?” was he was thinking. It wasn’t a nightmare.
