Franz Kafka is alive, 90 years after his death


Franz Kafka, one of my all time favorite writers, died today 90 years ago, 4th of June 1924.

I guess Kafka could not imagine that the world would get more and more surreal, kafkanian, after his death. Just read his allegorical short story “A Little Fable”. That is written hundred years ago – or today?

“Alas,” said the mouse, “the whole world is growing smaller every day. At the beginning it was so big that I was afraid, I kept running and running, and I was glad when I saw walls far away to the right and left, but these long walls have narrowed so quickly that I am in the last chamber already, and there in the corner stands the trap that I must run into.”

“You only need to change your direction,” said the cat, and ate it up.”

How close is the world to the corner? Do we smell the cat’s breath?

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A statue – or a vase? – on a balcony in Prague, Kafka’s home town.

About Olli Laasanen

Eyes and ears open. New and old. Jobs and hobbies. Pictures and music. Entertaining and serious. Change and stability. Nature and urban.
This entry was posted in Artsy, Change, Czech Republic, Photo, photography, Valokuvaus and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Franz Kafka is alive, 90 years after his death

  1. Rigby says:

    The man was a genius, and your photograph expresses the experience we often have that everything is not quite as it seems – and not as benign as we’d like. We wander, lost in the ‘Castle’ and increasingly tormented by bureaucracy…

    The following paragraph, in a letter from Kafka to Milena Jesenska, had a profound effect on me that resonates always and improved my life.
    ” Sometimes I have the feeling that we’re in one room with two opposite doors, and each of us holds the handle of one door. One of us flicks an eyelash ant the other is already behind his door, and now the first one has but to utter a word and immediately the second one has closed his door behind him and can no longer be seen. He’s sure to open the door again, because it’s a room which perhaps one cannot leave. If only the first one were not precisely like the second, if he were calm, if he would only pretend not to look at the other, if he would slowly set the room in order as though it were a room like any other; but instead he does exactly the same as the other at his door. Sometimes even both are behind their doors and the beautiful room is empty.”

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