I feel like a mere ant in the vast landscape. No more intelligent of its surroundings, only concerned with its immediate future and past, for it cannot see or imagine the future.

Even more so, I connect to Kafka's Gregor. His shocking metamorphosis causes great distress in his family, and my past transformation has been no less jarring, I'll bet. We both are burdens on those who surround us. He died from an apple lodged into his back. I hope that I do not meet the same fate.

Maybe we all are just as insignificant in this world. But a mere individual is powerless until that power is conferred onto him.