From time to time...

...and prompted by nothing in particular, I will find myself thinking about Kafka's writing style. Actually, "thinking" is the wrong word. That would imply some aspect of analysis. And that's not what happens in my head during these random moments of reflection.

It's more like a space opens in my head into which the quality of Kafka's writing style appears as a something inimitable in its clarity, directness, and subtle eloquence. Well, I suppose even that is a form of analysis. But again...it's more like his language style simply is there in my head as a thing excellent and nonparallel.