One hundred years ago, Franz Kafka died — not that he ever liked being here among the living. He raced to an early death, aged 40, having spent all his life kvetching about it or escaping from it into the phantasmagoria of his fiction.
一百年前，弗朗茨?卡夫卡去世了——他從未喜歡過活在人間。他在40歲時(shí)便英年早逝，一生都在抱怨生活，或是逃避現(xiàn)實(shí)，沉浸在他小說的幻境之中。
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