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
Will take place on 29-03-2021 at 12:12:00
Quiere la boca exhausta vid, kiwi, piña y fugaz jamón. Fabio me exige, sin tapujos, que añada cerveza al whisky.
Jovencillo emponzoñado de whisky, ¡qué figurota exhibes! La cigüeña tocaba cada vez mejor el saxofón y el búho pedía kiwi y queso.
El jefe buscó el éxtasis en un imprevisto baño de whisky y gozó como un duque. Exhíbanse politiquillos zafios, con orejas kilométricas y uñas de gavilán.