Sanja

“Šta je? Šta je' povikah, još snom prikovan za krevet, i ispružih ruku na gore. Potom ustadoh,još zadugo bez svesti o sadašnjosti, i imah osećaj kao da moram da odgurnem nekoliko ljudi koji su me sputavali; čak i napravih odgovarajuće pokrete rukama, i konačno dođoh do otvorenog prozora.”
― Franz Kafka

“The absence of life in that familiar body, the rigid and rectified features of the face he had known before he even knew his own, made all the difference. Here was a transitional object for the far end of life. Instead of the soft toy or raggie that a child uses to cope with its mother’s absence, he was being offered a corpse, its scrawny fingers clutching an artificial white rose whose stiff silk petals were twisted into position over an unbeating heart. It had the sarcasm of a relic, as well as the prestige of a metonym. It stood for his mother and for her absence with equal authority. In either case, it was her final appearance before she retired into other people’s memory.”
― Edward St. Aubyn, The Patrick Melrose Novels