Status Updates From Dvorac

. . . there were bottles in the side pocket there too. He took one out, unscrewed the top, and sniffed it. Instinctively he smiled; the smell was as sweet and delight- ful as hearing praise and kind words from someone you love, and you don’t know why, nor do you want to know, you are just happy to hear the beloved person uttering them. Can this really be cognac?

. . . keeping close to the wall, K. skirted two sides of the yard until he had reached the sleigh. The driver, one of those rustics who had been in the bar the other day, was sitting there wrapped in furs and had watched him approaching without interest, much as your eyes might idly follow a cat prowling along.

Holy run-on sentences, batman