一天早上，当Gregor Samsa醒来的恶梦，他发现自己在他的床上，转化成可怕的害虫。
他躺在他的盔甲一样回来，如果他抬起头看见他棕色的肚皮，略微圆拱，除以拱成僵硬的部分。
“床上用品几乎不能遮盖它，随时准备好随时滑出。”他的腿，瘦得可怜的他剩下的尺寸相比，在他眼前无可奈何地舞动着。”我怎么了？”他认为。这不是一个梦想。他的房间里，一个合适的人
She packed her seven versalia, put her initial into the belt and made herself on the way.
When she reached the first hills of the Italic Mountains, she had a last view back on the skyline of her hometown Bookmarksgrove, the headline of Alphabet Village and the subline of her own road, the Line Lane.
Pityful a rethoric question ran over her cheek, then she continued her way. On her way she met a copy.
The copy warned the Little Blind Text, that where it came from it would have been rewritten a thousand times and everything that was left from its origin would be the word "and" and the Little Blind Text should turn around and return to its own, safe country.
But nothing the copy said could convince her and so it didn’t take long until a few insidious Copy Writers ambushed her, made her drunk with Longe and Parole and dragged her into their agency, where they abused her for their projects again and again.
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