I read this today and I thought it was pretty. So I thought I would share

The Passenger by Franz Kafka

I am standing on the platform of a tram and am entirely uncertain of my place in this world, in this town, in my family. Not even approximately could I state what claims I might justifiably advance in any direction. I am quite unable to defend the fact that I am standing on this platform, holding on to this strap, letting myself be carried along by this tram, and that people are getting out of the trams way or walking along quietly or pausing in front of the shop windows. Not that anyone asks me to, but that is immaterial.

The tram approaches a stop and a girl takes up her station near the step, ready to alight. She appears to me as distinctly as if I had run my hands over her. She is in black, the pleats of her shirt are almost motionless, her blouse is tight fitting and has a collar of white mesh lace, her left hand is held flat against the side of the tram, the umbrella in her right rests on the second step from the top. Her face is brown; her nose, slightly pinched at the sides, is broad and round at the tip. She has a mass of brown hair, with some stray wisps blown over her right temple. Her small ear is close set, but since I'm standing near her I can see the whole back of her right ear and the shadow at its root.

I wondered at the time: How is it that she is not astonished at herself, that she keeps her lips closed and says nothing of the kind?