“As he was staggering along, trying to concentrate his energy on running, hardly keeping his eyes open; in his dazed state never even thinking of any other escape than simply going forward; and having almost forgotten that the walls were free to him, which in this room were well provided with finely carved pieces of furniture full of knobs and crevices - suddenly something lightly flung landed close behind him and rolled before him. It was an apple; a second apple followed immediately; Gregor came to a stop in alarm; there was no point in running on, for his father was determined to bombard him. He had filled his pockets with fruit from the dish on the sideboard and was now shying apple, after apple, without taking particularly good aim for the moment. The small red apples rolled about the floor as if magnetized and cannoned into each other. An apple thrown without much force grazed Gregor's back and glanced off harmlessly. But another following immediately landed right on his back and sank in; Gregor wanted to drag himself forward, as if this startling, incredible pain could be left behind him; but he felt as if nailed to the spot and flattened himself out in a complete derangement of all his senses. With his last conscious look he saw the door of his room being torn open and his mother rushing out ahead of his screaming sister, in her underbodice, for her daughter had loosened her clothing to let her breathe more freely and recover from her swoon, he saw his mother rushing toward his father, leaving one after another behind her on the floor her loosened petticoats, stumbling over her petticoats straight to his father and embracing him, in complete union with him - but here Gregor's sight began to fail - with her hands clasped around his father's neck as she begged for her son's life.”
"The Metamorphosis", by Franz Kafka
“Enquanto ia cambaleando de um ladopara o outro, de olhos semicerrados, para concentrar toda a sua energia nafuga, não lhe ocorrendo, no seu atordoamento, nenhuma outra possibilidade desalvação que não fosse correr; e quando já quase tinha esquecido que as paredesestavam à sua disposição, embora se encontrassem, nesse momento, atravancadasde móveis primorosamente talhados com ângulos e saliências, alguma coisa,arremessada sem grande força, passou a voar perto dele, caindo no chão erolando à sua frente. Era uma maçã; outra se lhe seguiu; Gregor parou, varadode medo; era inútil continuar a correr: o Pai decidira bombardeá-lo. Tinhaenchido os bolsos com maçãs tiradas da fruteira que estava em cima do aparadore agora, ainda sem fazer pontaria, lançava-as uma a uma. Aquelas pequenas maçãsvermelhas rolavam pelo chão e batiam umas nas outras, como se viessemcarregadas de electricidade. Uma maçã, atirada sem convicção, passou a roçar ascostas de Gregor, sem o magoar. Pelo contrário, a que se lhe seguiu veiocravar-se-lhe em cheio no dorso. Gregor quis continuar a arrastar-se, como se ador inesperada e lancinante pudesse ser mitigada pela mudança de lugar, massentia-se como que pregado ao chão e estendeu-se ao comprido, numa confusãototal de todos os sentidos. (…)
Dado que ninguém se atrevia aretirá-la, a maçã ficou cravada como uma recordação visível na carne deGregor.”
"A Metamorfose", de Franz Kafka
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