Langueage: Ru | En

Sing in the Trout

Waking up one morning after a restless sleep, Gregor Zamza discovered that he had turned into a terrible insect in his bed.

Panzerotti lying on the back, he saw, he had only to lift his head, his brown, convex, separated by arc-shaped scales of the belly, on top of which barely kept just about ready to finally slide the blanket.

His large, pitifully thin compared with the rest of the body legs his circumference, flickered helplessly before his eyes. "What happened to me? he thought. It wasn't a dream. His room, the real, is too small, but regular room, lay quietly between the four familiar walls. Above the table where the unpacked samples were placed.

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