In this love you are like a knife, with which I explore myself. –Franz Kafka
(And have I ever mentioned my old love and obsession with Kafka? Reading not just his books and stories but his diaries, his notebooks? The only good thing I took from my schooling was The Metamorphosis, which probably did more to scrape the inside of my skull than any other book save perhaps Somerset Maugham’s The Razor’s Edge. I spent years on Kafka.
Which reminds me; I ought to go out to the garage and find that copy of The Trial….)