A fascinating project-in-progress on Kafka. The diaries from 1910 begin with these observations:

The onlookers freeze when the train goes by.
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“If he ever asked me” the “a” released from the sentence flew off like a ball on the meadow.
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His seriousness kills me. His head in its collar, his hair arranged motionless on the skull, the muscles down at his cheeks stretched in their place.
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Are the woods still there? Something of the woods was still there. But my gaze was barely ten steps in when I gave up again, caught by the boring conversation.
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In the dark woods, on the sodden ground, I found my way only by the white of his collar.
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More on the Kafka project here.