‘”I” is this epiphany of absence‘. When I glanced up and saw the slanted old window in the condemned building. The space inside that seemed to recede as I looked into it. The alley itself was sunny and filled with windborne seeds. No one was around, including me. ‘I’ was thankful echoes of my surroundings.
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Everyone carries a room about inside him. This fact can even be proved by means of the sense of hearing. If someone walks fast and one pricks up one's ears and listens, say in the night, when everything round about is quiet, one hears, for instance, the rattling of a mirror not quite firmly fastened to the wall.
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Kafka
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