Initial commit from Astro

.gitignore

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+# build output
+dist/
+# generated types
+.astro/
+
+# dependencies
+node_modules/
+
+# logs
+npm-debug.log*
+yarn-debug.log*
+yarn-error.log*
+pnpm-debug.log*
+
+
+# environment variables
+.env
+.env.production
+
+# macOS-specific files
+.DS_Store
+
+# jetbrains setting folder
+.idea/
+
+TODO.txt

.prettierrc.mjs

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+/** @type {import("prettier").Config} */
+export default {
+  plugins: ["prettier-plugin-astro", "prettier-plugin-tailwindcss"],
+  overrides: [
+    {
+      files: "*.astro",
+      options: {
+        parser: "astro",
+      },
+    },
+  ],
+};

.vscode/extensions.json

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+{
+  "recommendations": ["astro-build.astro-vscode"],
+  "unwantedRecommendations": []
+}

.vscode/launch.json

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+{
+  "version": "0.2.0",
+  "configurations": [
+    {
+      "command": "./node_modules/.bin/astro dev",
+      "name": "Development server",
+      "request": "launch",
+      "type": "node-terminal"
+    }
+  ]
+}

LICENSE

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+MIT License
+
+Copyright (c) 2024 Trevor Lee
+
+Permission is hereby granted, free of charge, to any person obtaining a copy
+of this software and associated documentation files (the "Software"), to deal
+in the Software without restriction, including without limitation the rights
+to use, copy, modify, merge, publish, distribute, sublicense, and/or sell
+copies of the Software, and to permit persons to whom the Software is
+furnished to do so, subject to the following conditions:
+
+The above copyright notice and this permission notice shall be included in all
+copies or substantial portions of the Software.
+
+THE SOFTWARE IS PROVIDED "AS IS", WITHOUT WARRANTY OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR
+IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO THE WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY,
+FITNESS FOR A PARTICULAR PURPOSE AND NONINFRINGEMENT. IN NO EVENT SHALL THE
+AUTHORS OR COPYRIGHT HOLDERS BE LIABLE FOR ANY CLAIM, DAMAGES OR OTHER
+LIABILITY, WHETHER IN AN ACTION OF CONTRACT, TORT OR OTHERWISE, ARISING FROM,
+OUT OF OR IN CONNECTION WITH THE SOFTWARE OR THE USE OR OTHER DEALINGS IN THE
+SOFTWARE.

README.md

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+![treelink-cover](https://github.com/user-attachments/assets/b3f947d2-9533-45d7-864a-8a7d29b02148)
+
+---
+
+[Live demo](https://example.treelink.app)
+
+[Online tool](https://treelink.app)
+
+[Documentation](https://treelink.app)
+
+## 🚀 Getting started
+
+```bash
+# Run this in your terminal...
+npm init astro -- --template trevortylerlee/treelink treelink-test
+
+# ... or read the quick start guide...
+# https://docs.treelink.app/guides/quick-start/
+
+# ... or watch on YouTube
+# https://youtu.be/3-eALOdm-3s?si=o6O3_Ackrbp0gkLH
+```
+
+## ✨ Features
+
+- Customizable, with premade themes for light and dark mode
+- Custom OpenGraph images per post, with a fallback image
+- Icon support for hundreds of sites
+- RSS and sitemap generation
+- Optional blog
+- Web vitals: 100 100 100 100
+
+## 🧞 Commands
+
+All commands are run from the root of the project, from a terminal:
+
+| Command           | Action                                       |
+| :---------------- | :------------------------------------------- |
+| `npm install`     | Installs dependencies                        |
+| `npm run dev`     | Starts local dev server at `localhost:3030`  |
+| `npm run build`   | Build your production site to `./dist/`      |
+| `npm run preview` | Preview your build locally, before deploying |
+
+## 👀 Want to learn more?
+
+Feel free to check [Astro's documentation](https://github.com/withastro/astro) or jump into Astro's [Discord server](https://astro.build/chat).

astro.config.mjs

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+import { defineConfig } from "astro/config";
+import tailwind from "@astrojs/tailwind";
+import sitemap from "@astrojs/sitemap";
+
+import icon from "astro-icon";
+
+// https://astro.build/config
+export default defineConfig({
+  redirects: {
+    "/blog": "/",
+  },
+  site: "https://example.treelink.com",
+  integrations: [tailwind(), sitemap(), icon()],
+});

package.json

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+{
+  "name": "links-opnkty",
+  "type": "module",
+  "version": "0.0.1",
+  "scripts": {
+    "dev": "astro dev",
+    "start": "astro dev",
+    "build": "astro build",
+    "preview": "astro preview",
+    "astro": "astro"
+  },
+  "dependencies": {
+    "@astrojs/check": "^0.9.4",
+    "@astrojs/rss": "^4.0.9",
+    "@astrojs/sitemap": "^3.2.1",
+    "@astrojs/tailwind": "^5.1.2",
+    "astro": "^4.16.7",
+    "astro-icon": "^1.1.1",
+    "tailwindcss": "^3.4.14",
+    "typescript": "^5.6.3"
+  },
+  "devDependencies": {
+    "@tailwindcss/typography": "^0.5.15",
+    "prettier": "^3.3.3",
+    "prettier-plugin-astro": "^0.14.1",
+    "prettier-plugin-tailwindcss": "^0.6.8"
+  }
+}

public/site.webmanifest

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+{"name":"","short_name":"","icons":[{"src":"/android-chrome-192x192.png","sizes":"192x192","type":"image/png"},{"src":"/android-chrome-512x512.png","sizes":"512x512","type":"image/png"}],"theme_color":"#ffffff","background_color":"#ffffff","display":"standalone"}

src/components/BaseHead.astro

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+---
+import { ViewTransitions } from "astro:transitions";
+
+import { SITE } from "@/siteConfig";
+
+import Favicons from "@/components/Favicons.astro";
+---
+
+<head>
+  <meta charset="UTF-8" />
+  <meta http-equiv="X-UA-Compatible" content="IE=edge" />
+  <meta name="HandheldFriendly" content="True" />
+  <meta name="format-detection" content="telephone=no" />
+  <meta name="referrer" content="no-referrer-when-downgrade" />
+  <meta
+    name="viewport"
+    content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1.0, user-scalable=yes"
+  />
+  <meta name="generator" content={Astro.generator} />
+  <meta
+    name="theme-color"
+    content="#fff"
+    media="(prefers-color-scheme: light)"
+  />
+  <meta
+    name="theme-color"
+    content="#000"
+    media="(prefers-color-scheme: dark)"
+  />
+
+  <link rel="sitemap" href="/sitemap-index.xml" />
+  <link rel="manifest" href="/site.webmanifest" />
+  <link
+    rel="alternate"
+    type="application/rss+xml"
+    title={SITE.name}
+    href={new URL("rss.xml", Astro.site)}
+  />
+
+  <ViewTransitions />
+  <Favicons />
+
+  <slot />
+</head>

src/components/Content.astro

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+---
+import { SITE } from "@/siteConfig";
+
+import Introduction from "@/components/Introduction.astro";
+import IconLink from "@/components/IconLink.astro";
+import CustomLink from "@/components/CustomLink.astro";
+---
+
+<Introduction />
+<ul class="flex justify-center gap-4 py-12">
+  {
+    SITE.iconLinks.map((link) => {
+      return <IconLink url={link.url} icon={link.icon} />;
+    })
+  }
+</ul>
+<ul class="grid gap-y-6 pb-12 pt-4">
+  {
+    SITE.customLinks.map((link) => {
+      return <CustomLink url={link.url}>{link.title}</CustomLink>;
+    })
+  }
+</ul>

src/components/CustomLink.astro

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+---
+const { text, icon, url } = Astro.props;
+---
+
+<li>
+  <a
+    href={url}
+    class="hover:bg-lightModeCustomLinkBackgroundHover dark:hover:bg-darkModeCustomLinkBackgroundHover hover:ring-lightModeCustomLinkOutlineHover dark:hover:ring-darkModeCustomLinkOutlineHover hover:text-lightModeCustomLinkTextHover dark:hover:text-darkModeCustomLinkTextHover flex items-center justify-center gap-2 rounded-full bg-lightModeCustomLinkBackground px-6 py-3 text-lg text-lightModeCustomLinkText ring-2 ring-lightModeCustomLinkOutline transition-colors dark:bg-darkModeCustomLinkBackground dark:text-darkModeCustomLinkText dark:ring-darkModeCustomLinkOutline"
+  >
+    <slot />
+  </a>
+</li>

src/components/Favicons.astro

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+<!-- TODO: document favicon replacement -->
+<link
+  rel="apple-touch-icon-precomposed"
+  sizes="180x180"
+  href="/apple-touch-icon.png"
+/>
+<link rel="icon" type="image/x-icon" href="/favicon.ico" />
+<link rel="shortcut icon" type="image/x-icon" href="/favicon.ico" />
+<link rel="icon" type="image/png" sizes="32x32" href="/favicon-32x32.png" />
+<link rel="icon" type="image/png" sizes="16x16" href="/favicon-16x16.png" />

src/components/Footer.astro

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+<footer
+  class="pt-12 text-center text-xs text-lightModeForegroundMuted hover:text-lightModeForeground dark:text-darkModeForegroundMuted dark:hover:text-darkModeForeground"
+>
+  <hr class="opacity-50" />
+  <a href="https://treelink.app" class="block py-4 no-underline"
+    >Built with Astro Link 🔗</a
+  >
+</footer>

src/components/IconLink.astro

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+---
+import { Icon } from "astro-icon/components";
+
+const { icon, url } = Astro.props;
+---
+
+<li>
+  <a
+    href={url}
+    aria-label={icon}
+    class="bg-lightModeIconLinkBackground dark:bg-darkModeIconLinkBackground hover:bg-lightModeIconLinkBackgroundHover dark:hover:bg-darkModeIconLinkBackgroundHover hover:ring-lightModeIconLinkOutlineHover dark:hover:ring-darkModeIconLinkOutlineHover group block rounded-full p-3 ring-2 ring-lightModeIconLinkOutline transition-colors dark:ring-darkModeIconLinkOutline"
+  >
+    <Icon
+      name={icon}
+      class="text-lightModeIconLinkText group-hover:text-lightModeIconLinkTextHover group-hover:dark:text-darkModeIconLinkTextHover dark:text-darkModeIconLinkText size-6 transition-colors"
+    />
+  </a>
+</li>

src/components/Introduction.astro

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+---
+import { Image } from "astro:assets";
+
+import { SITE } from "@/siteConfig";
+
+import profilePicture from "@/assets/profile-picture.jpg";
+---
+
+<div class="mt-8 py-4">
+  <Image
+    src={profilePicture}
+    alt={SITE.name}
+    height={256}
+    width={256}
+    loading="eager"
+    draggable="false"
+    class="mx-auto size-32 rounded-full"
+  />
+  <h1 class="mt-4 text-center text-3xl font-semibold">{SITE.name}</h1>
+  <p
+    class="mt-1 text-balance text-center text-sm text-lightModeForegroundMuted dark:text-darkModeForegroundMuted"
+  >
+    {SITE.bio}
+  </p>
+</div>

src/components/Post.astro

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+---
+import { formatDate } from "@/lib/util";
+
+const { post } = Astro.props;
+---
+
+<li class="flex flex-col text-center no-underline">
+  <a href={`/blog/${post.slug}`}>
+    <span
+      class="flex flex-wrap justify-center text-balance text-2xl font-medium"
+      >{post.data.title}</span
+    >
+    <div
+      class="mt-1 text-sm text-lightModeForegroundMuted dark:text-darkModeForegroundMuted"
+    >
+      {formatDate(post.data.publicationDate)}
+    </div>
+  </a>
+</li>

src/components/SeoPage.astro

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+---
+import { SITE } from "@/siteConfig.ts";
+
+interface Props {
+  title?: string;
+  description?: string;
+}
+
+const { title = SITE.name, description = SITE.bio } = Astro.props;
+
+const ogImage = new URL("./og.jpg", Astro.site);
+const ogImageAlt = title;
+---
+
+<title>{title}</title>
+<meta name="description" content={description} />
+<link rel="canonical" href={SITE.url} />
+
+<meta property="og:title" content={title} />
+<meta property="og:description" content={description} />
+<meta property="og:image" content={ogImage} />
+<meta property="og:image:alt" content={ogImageAlt} />
+<meta property="og:type" content="website" />
+<meta property="og:locale" content={SITE.locale} />
+
+<meta name="twitter:title" content={title} />
+<meta name="twitter:description" content={description} />
+<meta name="twitter:image" content={ogImage} />
+<meta name="twitter:image:alt" content={ogImageAlt} />
+<meta name="twitter:card" content="summary_large_image" />

src/components/SeoPost.astro

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+---
+import { type CollectionEntry } from "astro:content";
+import { SITE } from "@/siteConfig";
+
+const { entry } = Astro.props;
+const post = entry as CollectionEntry<"blog">;
+
+const postTitle = post.data.title || SITE.name;
+const postDescription = post.data.description || SITE.bio;
+const ogImage = new URL("./og.jpg", Astro.site);
+---
+
+<title>{`${postTitle} | ${SITE.name}`}</title>
+<meta name="title" content={`${postTitle} | ${SITE.name}`} />
+<meta name="description" content={postDescription} />
+<link rel="canonical" href={SITE.url} />
+
+<meta property="og:title" content={postTitle} />
+<meta property="og:description" content={postDescription} />
+<meta
+  property="og:image"
+  content={`${SITE.url}${post?.data?.image?.src}` || ogImage}
+/>
+<meta property="og:image:alt" content={postTitle} />
+<meta property="og:type" content="website" />
+<meta property="og:locale" content={SITE.locale} />
+
+<meta name="twitter:title" content={postTitle} />
+<meta name="twitter:description" content={postDescription} />
+<meta
+  property="twitter:image"
+  content={`${SITE.url}${post?.data?.image?.src}` || ogImage}
+/>
+<meta name="twitter:image:alt" content={postTitle} />
+<meta name="twitter:card" content="summary_large_image" />
+
+{
+  post?.data.tags &&
+    post.data.tags.map((tag: string) => {
+      return <meta property="article:tag" content={tag} />;
+    })
+}

src/content/blog/metamorphosis/index.md

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+---
+title: The Metamorphosis (1915)
+description: A salesman wakes up and finds himself transformed into an insect.
+publicationDate: 2024-08-03
+image: ./metamorphosis.jpg
+imageAlt: Eggs, larva, pupa, adult.
+---
+
+## 1.
+
+One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin. He lay on his armour-like back, and if he lifted his head a little he could see his brown belly, slightly domed and divided by arches into stiff sections. The bedding was hardly able to cover it and seemed ready to slide off any moment. His many legs, pitifully thin compared with the size of the rest of him, waved about helplessly as he looked.
+
+“What’s happened to me?” he thought. It wasn’t a dream. His room, a proper human room although a little too small, lay peacefully between its four familiar walls. A collection of textile samples lay spread out on the table—Samsa was a travelling salesman—and above it there hung a picture that he had recently cut out of an illustrated magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame. It showed a lady fitted out with a fur hat and fur boa who sat upright, raising a heavy fur muff that covered the whole of her lower arm towards the viewer.
+
+Gregor then turned to look out the window at the dull weather. Drops of rain could be heard hitting the pane, which made him feel quite sad. “How about if I sleep a little bit longer and forget all this nonsense”, he thought, but that was something he was unable to do because he was used to sleeping on his right, and in his present state couldn’t get into that position. However hard he threw himself onto his right, he always rolled back to where he was. He must have tried it a hundred times, shut his eyes so that he wouldn’t have to look at the floundering legs, and only stopped when he began to feel a mild, dull pain there that he had never felt before.
+
+“Oh, God”, he thought, “what a strenuous career it is that I’ve chosen! Travelling day in and day out. Doing business like this takes much more effort than doing your own business at home, and on top of that there’s the curse of travelling, worries about making train connections, bad and irregular food, contact with different people all the time so that you can never get to know anyone or become friendly with them. It can all go to Hell!” He felt a slight itch up on his belly; pushed himself slowly up on his back towards the headboard so that he could lift his head better; found where the itch was, and saw that it was covered with lots of little white spots which he didn’t know what to make of; and when he tried to feel the place with one of his legs he drew it quickly back because as soon as he touched it he was overcome by a cold shudder.
+
+He slid back into his former position. “Getting up early all the time”, he thought, “it makes you stupid. You’ve got to get enough sleep. Other travelling salesmen live a life of luxury. For instance, whenever I go back to the guest house during the morning to copy out the contract, these gentlemen are always still sitting there eating their breakfasts. I ought to just try that with my boss; I’d get kicked out on the spot. But who knows, maybe that would be the best thing for me. If I didn’t have my parents to think about I’d have given in my notice a long time ago, I’d have gone up to the boss and told him just what I think, tell him everything I would, let him know just what I feel. He’d fall right off his desk! And it’s a funny sort of business to be sitting up there at your desk, talking down at your subordinates from up there, especially when you have to go right up close because the boss is hard of hearing. Well, there’s still some hope; once I’ve got the money together to pay off my parents’ debt to him—another five or six years I suppose—that’s definitely what I’ll do. That’s when I’ll make the big change. First of all though, I’ve got to get up, my train leaves at five.”
+
+And he looked over at the alarm clock, ticking on the chest of drawers. “God in Heaven!” he thought. It was half past six and the hands were quietly moving forwards, it was even later than half past, more like quarter to seven. Had the alarm clock not rung? He could see from the bed that it had been set for four o’clock as it should have been; it certainly must have rung. Yes, but was it possible to quietly sleep through that furniture-rattling noise? True, he had not slept peacefully, but probably all the more deeply because of that. What should he do now? The next train went at seven; if he were to catch that he would have to rush like mad and the collection of samples was still not packed, and he did not at all feel particularly fresh and lively. And even if he did catch the train he would not avoid his boss’s anger as the office assistant would have been there to see the five o’clock train go, he would have put in his report about Gregor’s not being there a long time ago. The office assistant was the boss’s man, spineless, and with no understanding. What about if he reported sick? But that would be extremely strained and suspicious as in five years of service Gregor had never once yet been ill. His boss would certainly come round with the doctor from the medical insurance company, accuse his parents of having a lazy son, and accept the doctor’s recommendation not to make any claim as the doctor believed that no-one was ever ill but that many were workshy. And what’s more, would he have been entirely wrong in this case? Gregor did in fact, apart from excessive sleepiness after sleeping for so long, feel completely well and even felt much hungrier than usual.
+
+He was still hurriedly thinking all this through, unable to decide to get out of the bed, when the clock struck quarter to seven. There was a cautious knock at the door near his head. “Gregor”, somebody called—it was his mother—“it’s quarter to seven. Didn’t you want to go somewhere?” That gentle voice! Gregor was shocked when he heard his own voice answering, it could hardly be recognised as the voice he had had before. As if from deep inside him, there was a painful and uncontrollable squeaking mixed in with it, the words could be made out at first but then there was a sort of echo which made them unclear, leaving the hearer unsure whether he had heard properly or not. Gregor had wanted to give a full answer and explain everything, but in the circumstances contented himself with saying: “Yes, mother, yes, thank-you, I’m getting up now.” The change in Gregor’s voice probably could not be noticed outside through the wooden door, as his mother was satisfied with this explanation and shuffled away. But this short conversation made the other members of the family aware that Gregor, against their expectations was still at home, and soon his father came knocking at one of the side doors, gently, but with his fist. “Gregor, Gregor”, he called, “what’s wrong?” And after a short while he called again with a warning deepness in his voice: “Gregor! Gregor!” At the other side door his sister came plaintively: “Gregor? Aren’t you well? Do you need anything?” Gregor answered to both sides: “I’m ready, now”, making an effort to remove all the strangeness from his voice by enunciating very carefully and putting long pauses between each, individual word. His father went back to his breakfast, but his sister whispered: “Gregor, open the door, I beg of you.” Gregor, however, had no thought of opening the door, and instead congratulated himself for his cautious habit, acquired from his travelling, of locking all doors at night even when he was at home.
+
+The first thing he wanted to do was to get up in peace without being disturbed, to get dressed, and most of all to have his breakfast. Only then would he consider what to do next, as he was well aware that he would not bring his thoughts to any sensible conclusions by lying in bed. He remembered that he had often felt a slight pain in bed, perhaps caused by lying awkwardly, but that had always turned out to be pure imagination and he wondered how his imaginings would slowly resolve themselves today. He did not have the slightest doubt that the change in his voice was nothing more than the first sign of a serious cold, which was an occupational hazard for travelling salesmen.
+
+It was a simple matter to throw off the covers; he only had to blow himself up a little and they fell off by themselves. But it became difficult after that, especially as he was so exceptionally broad. He would have used his arms and his hands to push himself up; but instead of them he only had all those little legs continuously moving in different directions, and which he was moreover unable to control. If he wanted to bend one of them, then that was the first one that would stretch itself out; and if he finally managed to do what he wanted with that leg, all the others seemed to be set free and would move about painfully. “This is something that can’t be done in bed”, Gregor said to himself, “so don’t keep trying to do it”.
+
+The first thing he wanted to do was get the lower part of his body out of the bed, but he had never seen this lower part, and could not imagine what it looked like; it turned out to be too hard to move; it went so slowly; and finally, almost in a frenzy, when he carelessly shoved himself forwards with all the force he could gather, he chose the wrong direction, hit hard against the lower bedpost, and learned from the burning pain he felt that the lower part of his body might well, at present, be the most sensitive.
+
+So then he tried to get the top part of his body out of the bed first, carefully turning his head to the side. This he managed quite easily, and despite its breadth and its weight, the bulk of his body eventually followed slowly in the direction of the head. But when he had at last got his head out of the bed and into the fresh air it occurred to him that if he let himself fall it would be a miracle if his head were not injured, so he became afraid to carry on pushing himself forward the same way. And he could not knock himself out now at any price; better to stay in bed than lose consciousness.
+
+It took just as much effort to get back to where he had been earlier, but when he lay there sighing, and was once more watching his legs as they struggled against each other even harder than before, if that was possible, he could think of no way of bringing peace and order to this chaos. He told himself once more that it was not possible for him to stay in bed and that the most sensible thing to do would be to get free of it in whatever way he could at whatever sacrifice. At the same time, though, he did not forget to remind himself that calm consideration was much better than rushing to desperate conclusions. At times like this he would direct his eyes to the window and look out as clearly as he could, but unfortunately, even the other side of the narrow street was enveloped in morning fog and the view had little confidence or cheer to offer him. “Seven o’clock, already”, he said to himself when the clock struck again, “seven o’clock, and there’s still a fog like this.” And he lay there quietly a while longer, breathing lightly as if he perhaps expected the total stillness to bring things back to their real and natural state.
+
+But then he said to himself: “Before it strikes quarter past seven I’ll definitely have to have got properly out of bed. And by then somebody will have come round from work to ask what’s happened to me as well, as they open up at work before seven o’clock.” And so he set himself to the task of swinging the entire length of his body out of the bed all at the same time. If he succeeded in falling out of bed in this way and kept his head raised as he did so he could probably avoid injuring it. His back seemed to be quite hard, and probably nothing would happen to it falling onto the carpet. His main concern was for the loud noise he was bound to make, and which even through all the doors would probably raise concern if not alarm. But it was something that had to be risked.
+
+When Gregor was already sticking half way out of the bed—the new method was more of a game than an effort, all he had to do was rock back and forth—it occurred to him how simple everything would be if somebody came to help him. Two strong people—he had his father and the maid in mind—would have been more than enough; they would only have to push their arms under the dome of his back, peel him away from the bed, bend down with the load and then be patient and careful as he swang over onto the floor, where, hopefully, the little legs would find a use. Should he really call for help though, even apart from the fact that all the doors were locked? Despite all the difficulty he was in, he could not suppress a smile at this thought.
+
+After a while he had already moved so far across that it would have been hard for him to keep his balance if he rocked too hard. The time was now ten past seven and he would have to make a final decision very soon. Then there was a ring at the door of the flat. “That’ll be someone from work”, he said to himself, and froze very still, although his little legs only became all the more lively as they danced around. For a moment everything remained quiet. “They’re not opening the door”, Gregor said to himself, caught in some nonsensical hope. But then of course, the maid’s firm steps went to the door as ever and opened it. Gregor only needed to hear the visitor’s first words of greeting and he knew who it was—the chief clerk himself. Why did Gregor have to be the only one condemned to work for a company where they immediately became highly suspicious at the slightest shortcoming? Were all employees, every one of them, louts, was there not one of them who was faithful and devoted who would go so mad with pangs of conscience that he couldn’t get out of bed if he didn’t spend at least a couple of hours in the morning on company business? Was it really not enough to let one of the trainees make enquiries—assuming enquiries were even necessary—did the chief clerk have to come himself, and did they have to show the whole, innocent family that this was so suspicious that only the chief clerk could be trusted to have the wisdom to investigate it? And more because these thoughts had made him upset than through any proper decision, he swang himself with all his force out of the bed. There was a loud thump, but it wasn’t really a loud noise. His fall was softened a little by the carpet, and Gregor’s back was also more elastic than he had thought, which made the sound muffled and not too noticeable. He had not held his head carefully enough, though, and hit it as he fell; annoyed and in pain, he turned it and rubbed it against the carpet.
+
+“Something’s fallen down in there”, said the chief clerk in the room on the left. Gregor tried to imagine whether something of the sort that had happened to him today could ever happen to the chief clerk too; you had to concede that it was possible. But as if in gruff reply to this question, the chief clerk’s firm footsteps in his highly polished boots could now be heard in the adjoining room. From the room on his right, Gregor’s sister whispered to him to let him know: “Gregor, the chief clerk is here.” “Yes, I know”, said Gregor to himself; but without daring to raise his voice loud enough for his sister to hear him.
+
+“Gregor”, said his father now from the room to his left, “the chief clerk has come round and wants to know why you didn’t leave on the early train. We don’t know what to say to him. And anyway, he wants to speak to you personally. So please open up this door. I’m sure he’ll be good enough to forgive the untidiness of your room.” Then the chief clerk called “Good morning, Mr. Samsa”. “He isn’t well”, said his mother to the chief clerk, while his father continued to speak through the door. “He isn’t well, please believe me. Why else would Gregor have missed a train! The lad only ever thinks about the business. It nearly makes me cross the way he never goes out in the evenings; he’s been in town for a week now but stayed home every evening. He sits with us in the kitchen and just reads the paper or studies train timetables. His idea of relaxation is working with his fretsaw. He’s made a little frame, for instance, it only took him two or three evenings, you’ll be amazed how nice it is; it’s hanging up in his room; you’ll see it as soon as Gregor opens the door. Anyway, I’m glad you’re here; we wouldn’t have been able to get Gregor to open the door by ourselves; he’s so stubborn; and I’m sure he isn’t well, he said this morning that he is, but he isn’t.” “I’ll be there in a moment”, said Gregor slowly and thoughtfully, but without moving so that he would not miss any word of the conversation. “Well I can’t think of any other way of explaining it, Mrs. Samsa”, said the chief clerk, “I hope it’s nothing serious. But on the other hand, I must say that if we people in commerce ever become slightly unwell then, fortunately or unfortunately as you like, we simply have to overcome it because of business considerations.” “Can the chief clerk come in to see you now then?”, asked his father impatiently, knocking at the door again. “No”, said Gregor. In the room on his right there followed a painful silence; in the room on his left his sister began to cry.
+
+So why did his sister not go and join the others? She had probably only just got up and had not even begun to get dressed. And why was she crying? Was it because he had not got up, and had not let the chief clerk in, because he was in danger of losing his job and if that happened his boss would once more pursue their parents with the same demands as before? There was no need to worry about things like that yet. Gregor was still there and had not the slightest intention of abandoning his family. For the time being he just lay there on the carpet, and no-one who knew the condition he was in would seriously have expected him to let the chief clerk in. It was only a minor discourtesy, and a suitable excuse could easily be found for it later on, it was not something for which Gregor could be sacked on the spot. And it seemed to Gregor much more sensible to leave him now in peace instead of disturbing him with talking at him and crying. But the others didn’t know what was happening, they were worried, that would excuse their behaviour.
+
+The chief clerk now raised his voice, “Mr. Samsa”, he called to him, “what is wrong? You barricade yourself in your room, give us no more than yes or no for an answer, you are causing serious and unnecessary concern to your parents and you fail—and I mention this just by the way—you fail to carry out your business duties in a way that is quite unheard of. I’m speaking here on behalf of your parents and of your employer, and really must request a clear and immediate explanation. I am astonished, quite astonished. I thought I knew you as a calm and sensible person, and now you suddenly seem to be showing off with peculiar whims. This morning, your employer did suggest a possible reason for your failure to appear, it’s true—it had to do with the money that was recently entrusted to you—but I came near to giving him my word of honour that that could not be the right explanation. But now that I see your incomprehensible stubbornness I no longer feel any wish whatsoever to intercede on your behalf. And nor is your position all that secure. I had originally intended to say all this to you in private, but since you cause me to waste my time here for no good reason I don’t see why your parents should not also learn of it. Your turnover has been very unsatisfactory of late; I grant you that it’s not the time of year to do especially good business, we recognise that; but there simply is no time of year to do no business at all, Mr. Samsa, we cannot allow there to be.”
+
+“But Sir”, called Gregor, beside himself and forgetting all else in the excitement, “I’ll open up immediately, just a moment. I’m slightly unwell, an attack of dizziness, I haven’t been able to get up. I’m still in bed now. I’m quite fresh again now, though. I’m just getting out of bed. Just a moment. Be patient! It’s not quite as easy as I’d thought. I’m quite alright now, though. It’s shocking, what can suddenly happen to a person! I was quite alright last night, my parents know about it, perhaps better than me, I had a small symptom of it last night already. They must have noticed it. I don’t know why I didn’t let you know at work! But you always think you can get over an illness without staying at home. Please, don’t make my parents suffer! There’s no basis for any of the accusations you’re making; nobody’s ever said a word to me about any of these things. Maybe you haven’t read the latest contracts I sent in. I’ll set off with the eight o’clock train, as well, these few hours of rest have given me strength. You don’t need to wait, sir; I’ll be in the office soon after you, and please be so good as to tell that to the boss and recommend me to him!”
+
+And while Gregor gushed out these words, hardly knowing what he was saying, he made his way over to the chest of drawers—this was easily done, probably because of the practise he had already had in bed—where he now tried to get himself upright. He really did want to open the door, really did want to let them see him and to speak with the chief clerk; the others were being so insistent, and he was curious to learn what they would say when they caught sight of him. If they were shocked then it would no longer be Gregor’s responsibility and he could rest. If, however, they took everything calmly he would still have no reason to be upset, and if he hurried he really could be at the station for eight o’clock. The first few times he tried to climb up on the smooth chest of drawers he just slid down again, but he finally gave himself one last swing and stood there upright; the lower part of his body was in serious pain but he no longer gave any attention to it. Now he let himself fall against the back of a nearby chair and held tightly to the edges of it with his little legs. By now he had also calmed down, and kept quiet so that he could listen to what the chief clerk was saying.
+
+“Did you understand a word of all that?” the chief clerk asked his parents, “surely he’s not trying to make fools of us”. “Oh, God!” called his mother, who was already in tears, “he could be seriously ill and we’re making him suffer. Grete! Grete!” she then cried. “Mother?” his sister called from the other side. They communicated across Gregor’s room. “You’ll have to go for the doctor straight away. Gregor is ill. Quick, get the doctor. Did you hear the way Gregor spoke just now?” “That was the voice of an animal”, said the chief clerk, with a calmness that was in contrast with his mother’s screams. “Anna! Anna!” his father called into the kitchen through the entrance hall, clapping his hands, “get a locksmith here, now!” And the two girls, their skirts swishing, immediately ran out through the hall, wrenching open the front door of the flat as they went. How had his sister managed to get dressed so quickly? There was no sound of the door banging shut again; they must have left it open; people often do in homes where something awful has happened.
+
+Gregor, in contrast, had become much calmer. So they couldn’t understand his words any more, although they seemed clear enough to him, clearer than before—perhaps his ears had become used to the sound. They had realised, though, that there was something wrong with him, and were ready to help. The first response to his situation had been confident and wise, and that made him feel better. He felt that he had been drawn back in among people, and from the doctor and the locksmith he expected great and surprising achievements—although he did not really distinguish one from the other. Whatever was said next would be crucial, so, in order to make his voice as clear as possible, he coughed a little, but taking care to do this not too loudly as even this might well sound different from the way that a human coughs and he was no longer sure he could judge this for himself. Meanwhile, it had become very quiet in the next room. Perhaps his parents were sat at the table whispering with the chief clerk, or perhaps they were all pressed against the door and listening.
+
+Gregor slowly pushed his way over to the door with the chair. Once there he let go of it and threw himself onto the door, holding himself upright against it using the adhesive on the tips of his legs. He rested there a little while to recover from the effort involved and then set himself to the task of turning the key in the lock with his mouth. He seemed, unfortunately, to have no proper teeth—how was he, then, to grasp the key?—but the lack of teeth was, of course, made up for with a very strong jaw; using the jaw, he really was able to start the key turning, ignoring the fact that he must have been causing some kind of damage as a brown fluid came from his mouth, flowed over the key and dripped onto the floor. “Listen”, said the chief clerk in the next room, “he’s turning the key.” Gregor was greatly encouraged by this; but they all should have been calling to him, his father and his mother too: “Well done, Gregor”, they should have cried, “keep at it, keep hold of the lock!” And with the idea that they were all excitedly following his efforts, he bit on the key with all his strength, paying no attention to the pain he was causing himself. As the key turned round he turned around the lock with it, only holding himself upright with his mouth, and hung onto the key or pushed it down again with the whole weight of his body as needed. The clear sound of the lock as it snapped back was Gregor’s sign that he could break his concentration, and as he regained his breath he said to himself: “So, I didn’t need the locksmith after all”. Then he lay his head on the handle of the door to open it completely.
+
+Because he had to open the door in this way, it was already wide open before he could be seen. He had first to slowly turn himself around one of the double doors, and he had to do it very carefully if he did not want to fall flat on his back before entering the room. He was still occupied with this difficult movement, unable to pay attention to anything else, when he heard the chief clerk exclaim a loud “Oh!”, which sounded like the soughing of the wind. Now he also saw him—he was the nearest to the door—his hand pressed against his open mouth and slowly retreating as if driven by a steady and invisible force. Gregor’s mother, her hair still dishevelled from bed despite the chief clerk’s being there, looked at his father. Then she unfolded her arms, took two steps forward towards Gregor and sank down onto the floor into her skirts that spread themselves out around her as her head disappeared down onto her breast. His father looked hostile, and clenched his fists as if wanting to knock Gregor back into his room. Then he looked uncertainly round the living room, covered his eyes with his hands and wept so that his powerful chest shook.
+
+So Gregor did not go into the room, but leant against the inside of the other door which was still held bolted in place. In this way only half of his body could be seen, along with his head above it which he leant over to one side as he peered out at the others. Meanwhile the day had become much lighter; part of the endless, grey-black building on the other side of the street—which was a hospital—could be seen quite clearly with the austere and regular line of windows piercing its façade; the rain was still falling, now throwing down large, individual droplets which hit the ground one at a time. The washing up from breakfast lay on the table; there was so much of it because, for Gregor’s father, breakfast was the most important meal of the day and he would stretch it out for several hours as he sat reading a number of different newspapers. On the wall exactly opposite there was photograph of Gregor when he was a lieutenant in the army, his sword in his hand and a carefree smile on his face as he called forth respect for his uniform and bearing. The door to the entrance hall was open and as the front door of the flat was also open he could see onto the landing and the stairs where they began their way down below.
+
+“Now, then”, said Gregor, well aware that he was the only one to have kept calm, “I’ll get dressed straight away now, pack up my samples and set off. Will you please just let me leave? You can see”, he said to the chief clerk, “that I’m not stubborn and I like to do my job; being a commercial traveller is arduous but without travelling I couldn’t earn my living. So where are you going, in to the office? Yes? Will you report everything accurately, then? It’s quite possible for someone to be temporarily unable to work, but that’s just the right time to remember what’s been achieved in the past and consider that later on, once the difficulty has been removed, he will certainly work with all the more diligence and concentration. You’re well aware that I’m seriously in debt to our employer as well as having to look after my parents and my sister, so that I’m trapped in a difficult situation, but I will work my way out of it again. Please don’t make things any harder for me than they are already, and don’t take sides against me at the office. I know that nobody likes the travellers. They think we earn an enormous wage as well as having a soft time of it. That’s just prejudice but they have no particular reason to think better of it. But you, sir, you have a better overview than the rest of the staff, in fact, if I can say this in confidence, a better overview than the boss himself—it’s very easy for a businessman like him to make mistakes about his employees and judge them more harshly than he should. And you’re also well aware that we travellers spend almost the whole year away from the office, so that we can very easily fall victim to gossip and chance and groundless complaints, and it’s almost impossible to defend yourself from that sort of thing, we don’t usually even hear about them, or if at all it’s when we arrive back home exhausted from a trip, and that’s when we feel the harmful effects of what’s been going on without even knowing what caused them. Please, don’t go away, at least first say something to show that you grant that I’m at least partly right!”
+
+But the chief clerk had turned away as soon as Gregor had started to speak, and, with protruding lips, only stared back at him over his trembling shoulders as he left. He did not keep still for a moment while Gregor was speaking, but moved steadily towards the door without taking his eyes off him. He moved very gradually, as if there had been some secret prohibition on leaving the room. It was only when he had reached the entrance hall that he made a sudden movement, drew his foot from the living room, and rushed forward in a panic. In the hall, he stretched his right hand far out towards the stairway as if out there, there were some supernatural force waiting to save him.
+
+Gregor realised that it was out of the question to let the chief clerk go away in this mood if his position in the firm was not to be put into extreme danger. That was something his parents did not understand very well; over the years, they had become convinced that this job would provide for Gregor for his entire life, and besides, they had so much to worry about at present that they had lost sight of any thought for the future. Gregor, though, did think about the future. The chief clerk had to be held back, calmed down, convinced and finally won over; the future of Gregor and his family depended on it! If only his sister were here! She was clever; she was already in tears while Gregor was still lying peacefully on his back. And the chief clerk was a lover of women, surely she could persuade him; she would close the front door in the entrance hall and talk him out of his shocked state. But his sister was not there, Gregor would have to do the job himself. And without considering that he still was not familiar with how well he could move about in his present state, or that his speech still might not—or probably would not—be understood, he let go of the door; pushed himself through the opening; tried to reach the chief clerk on the landing who, ridiculously, was holding on to the banister with both hands; but Gregor fell immediately over and, with a little scream as he sought something to hold onto, landed on his numerous little legs. Hardly had that happened than, for the first time that day, he began to feel alright with his body; the little legs had the solid ground under them; to his pleasure, they did exactly as he told them; they were even making the effort to carry him where he wanted to go; and he was soon believing that all his sorrows would soon be finally at an end. He held back the urge to move but swayed from side to side as he crouched there on the floor. His mother was not far away in front of him and seemed, at first, quite engrossed in herself, but then she suddenly jumped up with her arms outstretched and her fingers spread shouting: “Help, for pity’s sake, Help!” The way she held her head suggested she wanted to see Gregor better, but the unthinking way she was hurrying backwards showed that she did not; she had forgotten that the table was behind her with all the breakfast things on it; when she reached the table she sat quickly down on it without knowing what she was doing; without even seeming to notice that the coffee pot had been knocked over and a gush of coffee was pouring down onto the carpet.
+
+“Mother, mother”, said Gregor gently, looking up at her. He had completely forgotten the chief clerk for the moment, but could not help himself snapping in the air with his jaws at the sight of the flow of coffee. That set his mother screaming anew, she fled from the table and into the arms of his father as he rushed towards her. Gregor, though, had no time to spare for his parents now; the chief clerk had already reached the stairs; with his chin on the banister, he looked back for the last time. Gregor made a run for him; he wanted to be sure of reaching him; the chief clerk must have expected something, as he leapt down several steps at once and disappeared; his shouts resounding all around the staircase. The flight of the chief clerk seemed, unfortunately, to put Gregor’s father into a panic as well. Until then he had been relatively self controlled, but now, instead of running after the chief clerk himself, or at least not impeding Gregor as he ran after him, Gregor’s father seized the chief clerk’s stick in his right hand (the chief clerk had left it behind on a chair, along with his hat and overcoat), picked up a large newspaper from the table with his left, and used them to drive Gregor back into his room, stamping his foot at him as he went. Gregor’s appeals to his father were of no help, his appeals were simply not understood, however much he humbly turned his head his father merely stamped his foot all the harder. Across the room, despite the chilly weather, Gregor’s mother had pulled open a window, leant far out of it and pressed her hands to her face. A strong draught of air flew in from the street towards the stairway, the curtains flew up, the newspapers on the table fluttered and some of them were blown onto the floor. Nothing would stop Gregor’s father as he drove him back, making hissing noises at him like a wild man. Gregor had never had any practice in moving backwards and was only able to go very slowly. If Gregor had only been allowed to turn round he would have been back in his room straight away, but he was afraid that if he took the time to do that his father would become impatient, and there was the threat of a lethal blow to his back or head from the stick in his father’s hand any moment. Eventually, though, Gregor realised that he had no choice as he saw, to his disgust, that he was quite incapable of going backwards in a straight line; so he began, as quickly as possible and with frequent anxious glances at his father, to turn himself round. It went very slowly, but perhaps his father was able to see his good intentions as he did nothing to hinder him, in fact now and then he used the tip of his stick to give directions from a distance as to which way to turn. If only his father would stop that unbearable hissing! It was making Gregor quite confused. When he had nearly finished turning round, still listening to that hissing, he made a mistake and turned himself back a little the way he had just come. He was pleased when he finally had his head in front of the doorway, but then saw that it was too narrow, and his body was too broad to get through it without further difficulty. In his present mood, it obviously did not occur to his father to open the other of the double doors so that Gregor would have enough space to get through. He was merely fixed on the idea that Gregor should be got back into his room as quickly as possible. Nor would he ever have allowed Gregor the time to get himself upright as preparation for getting through the doorway. What he did, making more noise than ever, was to drive Gregor forwards all the harder as if there had been nothing in the way; it sounded to Gregor as if there was now more than one father behind him; it was not a pleasant experience, and Gregor pushed himself into the doorway without regard for what might happen. One side of his body lifted itself, he lay at an angle in the doorway, one flank scraped on the white door and was painfully injured, leaving vile brown flecks on it, soon he was stuck fast and would not have been able to move at all by himself, the little legs along one side hung quivering in the air while those on the other side were pressed painfully against the ground. Then his father gave him a hefty shove from behind which released him from where he was held and sent him flying, and heavily bleeding, deep into his room. The door was slammed shut with the stick, then, finally, all was quiet.
+
+<br />
+
+---
+
+<br />
+
+## 2.
+
+It was not until it was getting dark that evening that Gregor awoke from his deep and coma-like sleep. He would have woken soon afterwards anyway even if he hadn’t been disturbed, as he had had enough sleep and felt fully rested. But he had the impression that some hurried steps and the sound of the door leading into the front room being carefully shut had woken him. The light from the electric street lamps shone palely here and there onto the ceiling and tops of the furniture, but down below, where Gregor was, it was dark. He pushed himself over to the door, feeling his way clumsily with his antennae—of which he was now beginning to learn the value—in order to see what had been happening there. The whole of his left side seemed like one, painfully stretched scar, and he limped badly on his two rows of legs. One of the legs had been badly injured in the events of that morning—it was nearly a miracle that only one of them had been—and dragged along lifelessly.
+
+It was only when he had reached the door that he realised what it actually was that had drawn him over to it; it was the smell of something to eat. By the door there was a dish filled with sweetened milk with little pieces of white bread floating in it. He was so pleased he almost laughed, as he was even hungrier than he had been that morning, and immediately dipped his head into the milk, nearly covering his eyes with it. But he soon drew his head back again in disappointment; not only did the pain in his tender left side make it difficult to eat the food—he was only able to eat if his whole body worked together as a snuffling whole—but the milk did not taste at all nice. Milk like this was normally his favourite drink, and his sister had certainly left it there for him because of that, but he turned, almost against his own will, away from the dish and crawled back into the centre of the room.
+
+Through the crack in the door, Gregor could see that the gas had been lit in the living room. His father at this time would normally be sat with his evening paper, reading it out in a loud voice to Gregor’s mother, and sometimes to his sister, but there was now not a sound to be heard. Gregor’s sister would often write and tell him about this reading, but maybe his father had lost the habit in recent times. It was so quiet all around too, even though there must have been somebody in the flat. “What a quiet life it is the family lead”, said Gregor to himself, and, gazing into the darkness, felt a great pride that he was able to provide a life like that in such a nice home for his sister and parents. But what now, if all this peace and wealth and comfort should come to a horrible and frightening end? That was something that Gregor did not want to think about too much, so he started to move about, crawling up and down the room.
+
+Once during that long evening, the door on one side of the room was opened very slightly and hurriedly closed again; later on the door on the other side did the same; it seemed that someone needed to enter the room but thought better of it. Gregor went and waited immediately by the door, resolved either to bring the timorous visitor into the room in some way or at least to find out who it was; but the door was opened no more that night and Gregor waited in vain. The previous morning while the doors were locked everyone had wanted to get in there to him, but now, now that he had opened up one of the doors and the other had clearly been unlocked some time during the day, no-one came, and the keys were in the other sides.
+
+It was not until late at night that the gaslight in the living room was put out, and now it was easy to see that his parents and sister had stayed awake all that time, as they all could be distinctly heard as they went away together on tip-toe. It was clear that no-one would come into Gregor’s room any more until morning; that gave him plenty of time to think undisturbed about how he would have to re-arrange his life. For some reason, the tall, empty room where he was forced to remain made him feel uneasy as he lay there flat on the floor, even though he had been living in it for five years. Hardly aware of what he was doing other than a slight feeling of shame, he hurried under the couch. It pressed down on his back a little, and he was no longer able to lift his head, but he nonetheless felt immediately at ease and his only regret was that his body was too broad to get it all underneath.
+
+He spent the whole night there. Some of the time he passed in a light sleep, although he frequently woke from it in alarm because of his hunger, and some of the time was spent in worries and vague hopes which, however, always led to the same conclusion: for the time being he must remain calm, he must show patience and the greatest consideration so that his family could bear the unpleasantness that he, in his present condition, was forced to impose on them.
+
+Gregor soon had the opportunity to test the strength of his decisions, as early the next morning, almost before the night had ended, his sister, nearly fully dressed, opened the door from the front room and looked anxiously in. She did not see him straight away, but when she did notice him under the couch—he had to be somewhere, for God’s sake, he couldn’t have flown away—she was so shocked that she lost control of herself and slammed the door shut again from outside. But she seemed to regret her behaviour, as she opened the door again straight away and came in on tip-toe as if entering the room of someone seriously ill or even of a stranger. Gregor had pushed his head forward, right to the edge of the couch, and watched her. Would she notice that he had left the milk as it was, realise that it was not from any lack of hunger and bring him in some other food that was more suitable? If she didn’t do it herself he would rather go hungry than draw her attention to it, although he did feel a terrible urge to rush forward from under the couch, throw himself at his sister’s feet and beg her for something good to eat. However, his sister noticed the full dish immediately and looked at it and the few drops of milk splashed around it with some surprise. She immediately picked it up—using a rag, not her bare hands—and carried it out. Gregor was extremely curious as to what she would bring in its place, imagining the wildest possibilities, but he never could have guessed what his sister, in her goodness, actually did bring. In order to test his taste, she brought him a whole selection of things, all spread out on an old newspaper. There were old, half-rotten vegetables; bones from the evening meal, covered in white sauce that had gone hard; a few raisins and almonds; some cheese that Gregor had declared inedible two days before; a dry roll and some bread spread with butter and salt. As well as all that she had poured some water into the dish, which had probably been permanently set aside for Gregor’s use, and placed it beside them. Then, out of consideration for Gregor’s feelings, as she knew that he would not eat in front of her, she hurried out again and even turned the key in the lock so that Gregor would know he could make things as comfortable for himself as he liked. Gregor’s little legs whirred, at last he could eat. What’s more, his injuries must already have completely healed as he found no difficulty in moving. This amazed him, as more than a month earlier he had cut his finger slightly with a knife, he thought of how his finger had still hurt the day before yesterday. “Am I less sensitive than I used to be, then?”, he thought, and was already sucking greedily at the cheese which had immediately, almost compellingly, attracted him much more than the other foods on the newspaper. Quickly one after another, his eyes watering with pleasure, he consumed the cheese, the vegetables and the sauce; the fresh foods, on the other hand, he didn’t like at all, and even dragged the things he did want to eat a little way away from them because he couldn’t stand the smell. Long after he had finished eating and lay lethargic in the same place, his sister slowly turned the key in the lock as a sign to him that he should withdraw. He was immediately startled, although he had been half asleep, and he hurried back under the couch. But he needed great self-control to stay there even for the short time that his sister was in the room, as eating so much food had rounded out his body a little and he could hardly breathe in that narrow space. Half suffocating, he watched with bulging eyes as his sister unselfconsciously took a broom and swept up the left-overs, mixing them in with the food he had not even touched at all as if it could not be used any more. She quickly dropped it all into a bin, closed it with its wooden lid, and carried everything out. She had hardly turned her back before Gregor came out again from under the couch and stretched himself.
+
+This was how Gregor received his food each day now, once in the morning while his parents and the maid were still asleep, and the second time after everyone had eaten their meal at midday as his parents would sleep for a little while then as well, and Gregor’s sister would send the maid away on some errand. Gregor’s father and mother certainly did not want him to starve either, but perhaps it would have been more than they could stand to have any more experience of his feeding than being told about it, and perhaps his sister wanted to spare them what distress she could as they were indeed suffering enough.
+
+It was impossible for Gregor to find out what they had told the doctor and the locksmith that first morning to get them out of the flat. As nobody could understand him, nobody, not even his sister, thought that he could understand them, so he had to be content to hear his sister’s sighs and appeals to the saints as she moved about his room. It was only later, when she had become a little more used to everything—there was, of course, no question of her ever becoming fully used to the situation—that Gregor would sometimes catch a friendly comment, or at least a comment that could be construed as friendly. “He’s enjoyed his dinner today”, she might say when he had diligently cleared away all the food left for him, or if he left most of it, which slowly became more and more frequent, she would often say, sadly, “now everything’s just been left there again”.
+
+Although Gregor wasn’t able to hear any news directly he did listen to much of what was said in the next rooms, and whenever he heard anyone speaking he would scurry straight to the appropriate door and press his whole body against it. There was seldom any conversation, especially at first, that was not about him in some way, even if only in secret. For two whole days, all the talk at every mealtime was about what they should do now; but even between meals they spoke about the same subject as there were always at least two members of the family at home—nobody wanted to be at home by themselves and it was out of the question to leave the flat entirely empty. And on the very first day the maid had fallen to her knees and begged Gregor’s mother to let her go without delay. It was not very clear how much she knew of what had happened but she left within a quarter of an hour, tearfully thanking Gregor’s mother for her dismissal as if she had done her an enormous service. She even swore emphatically not to tell anyone the slightest about what had happened, even though no-one had asked that of her.
+
+Now Gregor’s sister also had to help his mother with the cooking; although that was not so much bother as no-one ate very much. Gregor often heard how one of them would unsuccessfully urge another to eat, and receive no more answer than “no thanks, I’ve had enough” or something similar. No-one drank very much either. His sister would sometimes ask his father whether he would like a beer, hoping for the chance to go and fetch it herself. When his father then said nothing she would add, so that he would not feel selfish, that she could send the housekeeper for it, but then his father would close the matter with a big, loud “No”, and no more would be said.
+
+Even before the first day had come to an end, his father had explained to Gregor’s mother and sister what their finances and prospects were. Now and then he stood up from the table and took some receipt or document from the little cash box he had saved from his business when it had collapsed five years earlier. Gregor heard how he opened the complicated lock and then closed it again after he had taken the item he wanted. What he heard his father say was some of the first good news that Gregor heard since he had first been incarcerated in his room. He had thought that nothing at all remained from his father’s business, at least he had never told him anything different, and Gregor had never asked him about it anyway. Their business misfortune had reduced the family to a state of total despair, and Gregor’s only concern at that time had been to arrange things so that they could all forget about it as quickly as possible. So then he started working especially hard, with a fiery vigour that raised him from a junior salesman to a travelling representative almost overnight, bringing with it the chance to earn money in quite different ways. Gregor converted his success at work straight into cash that he could lay on the table at home for the benefit of his astonished and delighted family. They had been good times and they had never come again, at least not with the same splendour, even though Gregor had later earned so much that he was in a position to bear the costs of the whole family, and did bear them. They had even got used to it, both Gregor and the family, they took the money with gratitude and he was glad to provide it, although there was no longer much warm affection given in return. Gregor only remained close to his sister now. Unlike him, she was very fond of music and a gifted and expressive violinist, it was his secret plan to send her to the conservatory next year even though it would cause great expense that would have to be made up for in some other way. During Gregor’s short periods in town, conversation with his sister would often turn to the conservatory but it was only ever mentioned as a lovely dream that could never be realised. Their parents did not like to hear this innocent talk, but Gregor thought about it quite hard and decided he would let them know what he planned with a grand announcement of it on Christmas day.
+
+That was the sort of totally pointless thing that went through his mind in his present state, pressed upright against the door and listening. There were times when he simply became too tired to continue listening, when his head would fall wearily against the door and he would pull it up again with a start, as even the slightest noise he caused would be heard next door and they would all go silent. “What’s that he’s doing now”, his father would say after a while, clearly having gone over to the door, and only then would the interrupted conversation slowly be taken up again.
+
+When explaining things, his father repeated himself several times, partly because it was a long time since he had been occupied with these matters himself and partly because Gregor’s mother did not understand everything the first time. From these repeated explanations Gregor learned, to his pleasure, that despite all their misfortunes there was still some money available from the old days. It was not a lot, but it had not been touched in the meantime and some interest had accumulated. Besides that, they had not been using up all the money that Gregor had been bringing home every month, keeping only a little for himself, so that that, too, had been accumulating. Behind the door, Gregor nodded with enthusiasm in his pleasure at this unexpected thrift and caution. He could actually have used this surplus money to reduce his father’s debt to his boss, and the day when he could have freed himself from that job would have come much closer, but now it was certainly better the way his father had done things.
+
+This money, however, was certainly not enough to enable the family to live off the interest; it was enough to maintain them for, perhaps, one or two years, no more. That’s to say, it was money that should not really be touched but set aside for emergencies; money to live on had to be earned. His father was healthy but old, and lacking in self confidence. During the five years that he had not been working—the first holiday in a life that had been full of strain and no success—he had put on a lot of weight and become very slow and clumsy. Would Gregor’s elderly mother now have to go and earn money? She suffered from asthma and it was a strain for her just to move about the home, every other day would be spent struggling for breath on the sofa by the open window. Would his sister have to go and earn money? She was still a child of seventeen, her life up till then had been very enviable, consisting of wearing nice clothes, sleeping late, helping out in the business, joining in with a few modest pleasures and most of all playing the violin. Whenever they began to talk of the need to earn money, Gregor would always first let go of the door and then throw himself onto the cool, leather sofa next to it, as he became quite hot with shame and regret.
+
+He would often lie there the whole night through, not sleeping a wink but scratching at the leather for hours on end. Or he might go to all the effort of pushing a chair to the window, climbing up onto the sill and, propped up in the chair, leaning on the window to stare out of it. He had used to feel a great sense of freedom from doing this, but doing it now was obviously something more remembered than experienced, as what he actually saw in this way was becoming less distinct every day, even things that were quite near; he had used to curse the ever-present view of the hospital across the street, but now he could not see it at all, and if he had not known that he lived in Charlottenstrasse, which was a quiet street despite being in the middle of the city, he could have thought that he was looking out the window at a barren waste where the grey sky and the grey earth mingled inseparably. His observant sister only needed to notice the chair twice before she would always push it back to its exact position by the window after she had tidied up the room, and even left the inner pane of the window open from then on.
+
+If Gregor had only been able to speak to his sister and thank her for all that she had to do for him it would have been easier for him to bear it; but as it was it caused him pain. His sister, naturally, tried as far as possible to pretend there was nothing burdensome about it, and the longer it went on, of course, the better she was able to do so, but as time went by Gregor was also able to see through it all so much better. It had even become very unpleasant for him, now, whenever she entered the room. No sooner had she come in than she would quickly close the door as a precaution so that no-one would have to suffer the view into Gregor’s room, then she would go straight to the window and pull it hurriedly open almost as if she were suffocating. Even if it was cold, she would stay at the window breathing deeply for a little while. She would alarm Gregor twice a day with this running about and noise making; he would stay under the couch shivering the whole while, knowing full well that she would certainly have liked to spare him this ordeal, but it was impossible for her to be in the same room with him with the windows closed.
+
+One day, about a month after Gregor’s transformation when his sister no longer had any particular reason to be shocked at his appearance, she came into the room a little earlier than usual and found him still staring out the window, motionless, and just where he would be most horrible. In itself, his sister’s not coming into the room would have been no surprise for Gregor as it would have been difficult for her to immediately open the window while he was still there, but not only did she not come in, she went straight back and closed the door behind her, a stranger would have thought he had threatened her and tried to bite her. Gregor went straight to hide himself under the couch, of course, but he had to wait until midday before his sister came back and she seemed much more uneasy than usual. It made him realise that she still found his appearance unbearable and would continue to do so, she probably even had to overcome the urge to flee when she saw the little bit of him that protruded from under the couch. One day, in order to spare her even this sight, he spent four hours carrying the bedsheet over to the couch on his back and arranged it so that he was completely covered and his sister would not be able to see him even if she bent down. If she did not think this sheet was necessary then all she had to do was take it off again, as it was clear enough that it was no pleasure for Gregor to cut himself off so completely. She left the sheet where it was. Gregor even thought he glimpsed a look of gratitude one time when he carefully looked out from under the sheet to see how his sister liked the new arrangement.
+
+For the first fourteen days, Gregor’s parents could not bring themselves to come into the room to see him. He would often hear them say how they appreciated all the new work his sister was doing even though, before, they had seen her as a girl who was somewhat useless and frequently been annoyed with her. But now the two of them, father and mother, would often both wait outside the door of Gregor’s room while his sister tidied up in there, and as soon as she went out again she would have to tell them exactly how everything looked, what Gregor had eaten, how he had behaved this time and whether, perhaps, any slight improvement could be seen. His mother also wanted to go in and visit Gregor relatively soon but his father and sister at first persuaded her against it. Gregor listened very closely to all this, and approved fully. Later, though, she had to be held back by force, which made her call out: “Let me go and see Gregor, he is my unfortunate son! Can’t you understand I have to see him?”, and Gregor would think to himself that maybe it would be better if his mother came in, not every day of course, but one day a week, perhaps; she could understand everything much better than his sister who, for all her courage, was still just a child after all, and really might not have had an adult’s appreciation of the burdensome job she had taken on.
+
+Gregor’s wish to see his mother was soon realised. Out of consideration for his parents, Gregor wanted to avoid being seen at the window during the day, the few square meters of the floor did not give him much room to crawl about, it was hard to just lie quietly through the night, his food soon stopped giving him any pleasure at all, and so, to entertain himself, he got into the habit of crawling up and down the walls and ceiling. He was especially fond of hanging from the ceiling; it was quite different from lying on the floor; he could breathe more freely; his body had a light swing to it; and up there, relaxed and almost happy, it might happen that he would surprise even himself by letting go of the ceiling and landing on the floor with a crash. But now, of course, he had far better control of his body than before and, even with a fall as great as that, caused himself no damage. Very soon his sister noticed Gregor’s new way of entertaining himself—he had, after all, left traces of the adhesive from his feet as he crawled about—and got it into her head to make it as easy as possible for him by removing the furniture that got in his way, especially the chest of drawers and the desk. Now, this was not something that she would be able to do by herself; she did not dare to ask for help from her father; the sixteen year old maid had carried on bravely since the cook had left but she certainly would not have helped in this, she had even asked to be allowed to keep the kitchen locked at all times and never to have to open the door unless it was especially important; so his sister had no choice but to choose some time when Gregor’s father was not there and fetch his mother to help her. As she approached the room, Gregor could hear his mother express her joy, but once at the door she went silent. First, of course, his sister came in and looked round to see that everything in the room was alright; and only then did she let her mother enter. Gregor had hurriedly pulled the sheet down lower over the couch and put more folds into it so that everything really looked as if it had just been thrown down by chance. Gregor also refrained, this time, from spying out from under the sheet; he gave up the chance to see his mother until later and was simply glad that she had come. “You can come in, he can’t be seen”, said his sister, obviously leading her in by the hand. The old chest of drawers was too heavy for a pair of feeble women to be heaving about, but Gregor listened as they pushed it from its place, his sister always taking on the heaviest part of the work for herself and ignoring her mother’s warnings that she would strain herself. This lasted a very long time. After labouring at it for fifteen minutes or more his mother said it would be better to leave the chest where it was, for one thing it was too heavy for them to get the job finished before Gregor’s father got home and leaving it in the middle of the room it would be in his way even more, and for another thing it wasn’t even sure that taking the furniture away would really be any help to him. She thought just the opposite; the sight of the bare walls saddened her right to her heart; and why wouldn’t Gregor feel the same way about it, he’d been used to this furniture in his room for a long time and it would make him feel abandoned to be in an empty room like that. Then, quietly, almost whispering as if wanting Gregor (whose whereabouts she did not know) to hear not even the tone of her voice, as she was convinced that he did not understand her words, she added “and by taking the furniture away, won’t it seem like we’re showing that we’ve given up all hope of improvement and we’re abandoning him to cope for himself? I think it’d be best to leave the room exactly the way it was before so that when Gregor comes back to us again he’ll find everything unchanged and he’ll be able to forget the time in between all the easier”.
+
+Hearing these words from his mother made Gregor realise that the lack of any direct human communication, along with the monotonous life led by the family during these two months, must have made him confused—he could think of no other way of explaining to himself why he had seriously wanted his room emptied out. Had he really wanted to transform his room into a cave, a warm room fitted out with the nice furniture he had inherited? That would have let him crawl around unimpeded in any direction, but it would also have let him quickly forget his past when he had still been human. He had come very close to forgetting, and it had only been the voice of his mother, unheard for so long, that had shaken him out of it. Nothing should be removed; everything had to stay; he could not do without the good influence the furniture had on his condition; and if the furniture made it difficult for him to crawl about mindlessly that was not a loss but a great advantage.
+
+His sister, unfortunately, did not agree; she had become used to the idea, not without reason, that she was Gregor’s spokesman to his parents about the things that concerned him. This meant that his mother’s advice now was sufficient reason for her to insist on removing not only the chest of drawers and the desk, as she had thought at first, but all the furniture apart from the all-important couch. It was more than childish perversity, of course, or the unexpected confidence she had recently acquired, that made her insist; she had indeed noticed that Gregor needed a lot of room to crawl about in, whereas the furniture, as far as anyone could see, was of no use to him at all. Girls of that age, though, do become enthusiastic about things and feel they must get their way whenever they can. Perhaps this was what tempted Grete to make Gregor’s situation seem even more shocking than it was so that she could do even more for him. Grete would probably be the only one who would dare enter a room dominated by Gregor crawling about the bare walls by himself.
+
+So she refused to let her mother dissuade her. Gregor’s mother already looked uneasy in his room, she soon stopped speaking and helped Gregor’s sister to get the chest of drawers out with what strength she had. The chest of drawers was something that Gregor could do without if he had to, but the writing desk had to stay. Hardly had the two women pushed the chest of drawers, groaning, out of the room than Gregor poked his head out from under the couch to see what he could do about it. He meant to be as careful and considerate as he could, but, unfortunately, it was his mother who came back first while Grete in the next room had her arms round the chest, pushing and pulling at it from side to side by herself without, of course, moving it an inch. His mother was not used to the sight of Gregor, he might have made her ill, so Gregor hurried backwards to the far end of the couch. In his startlement, though, he was not able to prevent the sheet at its front from moving a little. It was enough to attract his mother’s attention. She stood very still, remained there a moment, and then went back out to Grete.
+
+Gregor kept trying to assure himself that nothing unusual was happening, it was just a few pieces of furniture being moved after all, but he soon had to admit that the women going to and fro, their little calls to each other, the scraping of the furniture on the floor, all these things made him feel as if he were being assailed from all sides. With his head and legs pulled in against him and his body pressed to the floor, he was forced to admit to himself that he could not stand all of this much longer. They were emptying his room out; taking away everything that was dear to him; they had already taken out the chest containing his fretsaw and other tools; now they threatened to remove the writing desk with its place clearly worn into the floor, the desk where he had done his homework as a business trainee, at high school, even while he had been at infant school—he really could not wait any longer to see whether the two women’s intentions were good. He had nearly forgotten they were there anyway, as they were now too tired to say anything while they worked and he could only hear their feet as they stepped heavily on the floor.
+
+So, while the women were leant against the desk in the other room catching their breath, he sallied out, changed direction four times not knowing what he should save first before his attention was suddenly caught by the picture on the wall—which was already denuded of everything else that had been on it—of the lady dressed in copious fur. He hurried up onto the picture and pressed himself against its glass, it held him firmly and felt good on his hot belly. This picture at least, now totally covered by Gregor, would certainly be taken away by no-one. He turned his head to face the door into the living room so that he could watch the women when they came back.
+
+They had not allowed themselves a long rest and came back quite soon; Grete had put her arm around her mother and was nearly carrying her. “What shall we take now, then?”, said Grete and looked around. Her eyes met those of Gregor on the wall. Perhaps only because her mother was there, she remained calm, bent her face to her so that she would not look round and said, albeit hurriedly and with a tremor in her voice: “Come on, let’s go back in the living room for a while?” Gregor could see what Grete had in mind, she wanted to take her mother somewhere safe and then chase him down from the wall. Well, she could certainly try it! He sat unyielding on his picture. He would rather jump at Grete’s face.
+
+But Grete’s words had made her mother quite worried, she stepped to one side, saw the enormous brown patch against the flowers of the wallpaper, and before she even realised it was Gregor that she saw screamed: “Oh God, oh God!” Arms outstretched, she fell onto the couch as if she had given up everything and stayed there immobile. “Gregor!” shouted his sister, glowering at him and shaking her fist. That was the first word she had spoken to him directly since his transformation. She ran into the other room to fetch some kind of smelling salts to bring her mother out of her faint; Gregor wanted to help too—he could save his picture later, although he stuck fast to the glass and had to pull himself off by force; then he, too, ran into the next room as if he could advise his sister like in the old days; but he had to just stand behind her doing nothing; she was looking into various bottles, he startled her when she turned round; a bottle fell to the ground and broke; a splinter cut Gregor’s face, some kind of caustic medicine splashed all over him; now, without delaying any longer, Grete took hold of all the bottles she could and ran with them in to her mother; she slammed the door shut with her foot. So now Gregor was shut out from his mother, who, because of him, might be near to death; he could not open the door if he did not want to chase his sister away, and she had to stay with his mother; there was nothing for him to do but wait; and, oppressed with anxiety and self-reproach, he began to crawl about, he crawled over everything, walls, furniture, ceiling, and finally in his confusion as the whole room began to spin around him he fell down into the middle of the dinner table.
+
+He lay there for a while, numb and immobile, all around him it was quiet, maybe that was a good sign. Then there was someone at the door. The maid, of course, had locked herself in her kitchen so that Grete would have to go and answer it. His father had arrived home. “What’s happened?” were his first words; Grete’s appearance must have made everything clear to him. She answered him with subdued voice, and openly pressed her face into his chest: “Mother’s fainted, but she’s better now. Gregor got out.” “Just as I expected”, said his father, “just as I always said, but you women wouldn’t listen, would you.” It was clear to Gregor that Grete had not said enough and that his father took it to mean that something bad had happened, that he was responsible for some act of violence. That meant Gregor would now have to try to calm his father, as he did not have the time to explain things to him even if that had been possible. So he fled to the door of his room and pressed himself against it so that his father, when he came in from the hall, could see straight away that Gregor had the best intentions and would go back into his room without delay, that it would not be necessary to drive him back but that they had only to open the door and he would disappear.
+
+His father, though, was not in the mood to notice subtleties like that; “Ah!”, he shouted as he came in, sounding as if he were both angry and glad at the same time. Gregor drew his head back from the door and lifted it towards his father. He really had not imagined his father the way he stood there now; of late, with his new habit of crawling about, he had neglected to pay attention to what was going on the rest of the flat the way he had done before. He really ought to have expected things to have changed, but still, still, was that really his father? The same tired man as used to be laying there entombed in his bed when Gregor came back from his business trips, who would receive him sitting in the armchair in his nightgown when he came back in the evenings; who was hardly even able to stand up but, as a sign of his pleasure, would just raise his arms and who, on the couple of times a year when they went for a walk together on a Sunday or public holiday wrapped up tightly in his overcoat between Gregor and his mother, would always labour his way forward a little more slowly than them, who were already walking slowly for his sake; who would place his stick down carefully and, if he wanted to say something would invariably stop and gather his companions around him. He was standing up straight enough now; dressed in a smart blue uniform with gold buttons, the sort worn by the employees at the banking institute; above the high, stiff collar of the coat his strong double-chin emerged; under the bushy eyebrows, his piercing, dark eyes looked out fresh and alert; his normally unkempt white hair was combed down painfully close to his scalp. He took his cap, with its gold monogram from, probably, some bank, and threw it in an arc right across the room onto the sofa, put his hands in his trouser pockets, pushing back the bottom of his long uniform coat, and, with look of determination, walked towards Gregor. He probably did not even know himself what he had in mind, but nonetheless lifted his feet unusually high. Gregor was amazed at the enormous size of the soles of his boots, but wasted no time with that—he knew full well, right from the first day of his new life, that his father thought it necessary to always be extremely strict with him. And so he ran up to his father, stopped when his father stopped, scurried forwards again when he moved, even slightly. In this way they went round the room several times without anything decisive happening, without even giving the impression of a chase as everything went so slowly. Gregor remained all this time on the floor, largely because he feared his father might see it as especially provoking if he fled onto the wall or ceiling. Whatever he did, Gregor had to admit that he certainly would not be able to keep up this running about for long, as for each step his father took he had to carry out countless movements. He became noticeably short of breath, even in his earlier life his lungs had not been very reliable. Now, as he lurched about in his efforts to muster all the strength he could for running he could hardly keep his eyes open; his thoughts became too slow for him to think of any other way of saving himself than running; he almost forgot that the walls were there for him to use although, here, they were concealed behind carefully carved furniture full of notches and protrusions—then, right beside him, lightly tossed, something flew down and rolled in front of him. It was an apple; then another one immediately flew at him; Gregor froze in shock; there was no longer any point in running as his father had decided to bombard him. He had filled his pockets with fruit from the bowl on the sideboard and now, without even taking the time for careful aim, threw one apple after another. These little, red apples rolled about on the floor, knocking into each other as if they had electric motors. An apple thrown without much force glanced against Gregor’s back and slid off without doing any harm. Another one however, immediately following it, hit squarely and lodged in his back; Gregor wanted to drag himself away, as if he could remove the surprising, the incredible pain by changing his position; but he felt as if nailed to the spot and spread himself out, all his senses in confusion. The last thing he saw was the door of his room being pulled open, his sister was screaming, his mother ran out in front of her in her blouse (as his sister had taken off some of her clothes after she had fainted to make it easier for her to breathe), she ran to his father, her skirts unfastened and sliding one after another to the ground, stumbling over the skirts she pushed herself to his father, her arms around him, uniting herself with him totally—now Gregor lost his ability to see anything—her hands behind his father’s head begging him to spare Gregor’s life.
+
+<br />
+
+---
+
+<br />
+
+## 3.
+
+No-one dared to remove the apple lodged in Gregor’s flesh, so it remained there as a visible reminder of his injury. He had suffered it there for more than a month, and his condition seemed serious enough to remind even his father that Gregor, despite his current sad and revolting form, was a family member who could not be treated as an enemy. On the contrary, as a family there was a duty to swallow any revulsion for him and to be patient, just to be patient.
+
+Because of his injuries, Gregor had lost much of his mobility—probably permanently. He had been reduced to the condition of an ancient invalid and it took him long, long minutes to crawl across his room—crawling over the ceiling was out of the question—but this deterioration in his condition was fully (in his opinion) made up for by the door to the living room being left open every evening. He got into the habit of closely watching it for one or two hours before it was opened and then, lying in the darkness of his room where he could not be seen from the living room, he could watch the family in the light of the dinner table and listen to their conversation—with everyone’s permission, in a way, and thus quite differently from before.
+
+They no longer held the lively conversations of earlier times, of course, the ones that Gregor always thought about with longing when he was tired and getting into the damp bed in some small hotel room. All of them were usually very quiet nowadays. Soon after dinner, his father would go to sleep in his chair; his mother and sister would urge each other to be quiet; his mother, bent deeply under the lamp, would sew fancy underwear for a fashion shop; his sister, who had taken a sales job, learned shorthand and French in the evenings so that she might be able to get a better position later on. Sometimes his father would wake up and say to Gregor’s mother “you’re doing so much sewing again today!”, as if he did not know that he had been dozing—and then he would go back to sleep again while mother and sister would exchange a tired grin.
+
+With a kind of stubbornness, Gregor’s father refused to take his uniform off even at home; while his nightgown hung unused on its peg Gregor’s father would slumber where he was, fully dressed, as if always ready to serve and expecting to hear the voice of his superior even here. The uniform had not been new to start with, but as a result of this it slowly became even shabbier despite the efforts of Gregor’s mother and sister to look after it. Gregor would often spend the whole evening looking at all the stains on this coat, with its gold buttons always kept polished and shiny, while the old man in it would sleep, highly uncomfortable but peaceful.
+
+As soon as it struck ten, Gregor’s mother would speak gently to his father to wake him and try to persuade him to go to bed, as he couldn’t sleep properly where he was and he really had to get his sleep if he was to be up at six to get to work. But since he had been in work he had become more obstinate and would always insist on staying longer at the table, even though he regularly fell asleep and it was then harder than ever to persuade him to exchange the chair for his bed. Then, however much mother and sister would importune him with little reproaches and warnings he would keep slowly shaking his head for a quarter of an hour with his eyes closed and refusing to get up. Gregor’s mother would tug at his sleeve, whisper endearments into his ear, Gregor’s sister would leave her work to help her mother, but nothing would have any effect on him. He would just sink deeper into his chair. Only when the two women took him under the arms he would abruptly open his eyes, look at them one after the other and say: “What a life! This is what peace I get in my old age!” And supported by the two women he would lift himself up carefully as if he were carrying the greatest load himself, let the women take him to the door, send them off and carry on by himself while Gregor’s mother would throw down her needle and his sister her pen so that they could run after his father and continue being of help to him.
+
+Who, in this tired and overworked family, would have had time to give more attention to Gregor than was absolutely necessary? The household budget became even smaller; so now the maid was dismissed; an enormous, thick-boned charwoman with white hair that flapped around her head came every morning and evening to do the heaviest work; everything else was looked after by Gregor’s mother on top of the large amount of sewing work she did. Gregor even learned, listening to the evening conversation about what price they had hoped for, that several items of jewellery belonging to the family had been sold, even though both mother and sister had been very fond of wearing them at functions and celebrations. But the loudest complaint was that although the flat was much too big for their present circumstances, they could not move out of it, there was no imaginable way of transferring Gregor to the new address. He could see quite well, though, that there were more reasons than consideration for him that made it difficult for them to move, it would have been quite easy to transport him in any suitable crate with a few air holes in it; the main thing holding the family back from their decision to move was much more to do with their total despair, and the thought that they had been struck with a misfortune unlike anything experienced by anyone else they knew or were related to. They carried out absolutely everything that the world expects from poor people, Gregor’s father brought bank employees their breakfast, his mother sacrificed herself by washing clothes for strangers, his sister ran back and forth behind her desk at the behest of the customers, but they just did not have the strength to do any more. And the injury in Gregor’s back began to hurt as much as when it was new. After they had come back from taking his father to bed Gregor’s mother and sister would now leave their work where it was and sit close together, cheek to cheek; his mother would point to Gregor’s room and say “Close that door, Grete”, and then, when he was in the dark again, they would sit in the next room and their tears would mingle, or they would simply sit there staring dry-eyed at the table.
+
+Gregor hardly slept at all, either night or day. Sometimes he would think of taking over the family’s affairs, just like before, the next time the door was opened; he had long forgotten about his boss and the chief clerk, but they would appear again in his thoughts, the salesmen and the apprentices, that stupid teaboy, two or three friends from other businesses, one of the chambermaids from a provincial hotel, a tender memory that appeared and disappeared again, a cashier from a hat shop for whom his attention had been serious but too slow,—all of them appeared to him, mixed together with strangers and others he had forgotten, but instead of helping him and his family they were all of them inaccessible, and he was glad when they disappeared. Other times he was not at all in the mood to look after his family, he was filled with simple rage about the lack of attention he was shown, and although he could think of nothing he would have wanted, he made plans of how he could get into the pantry where he could take all the things he was entitled to, even if he was not hungry. Gregor’s sister no longer thought about how she could please him but would hurriedly push some food or other into his room with her foot before she rushed out to work in the morning and at midday, and in the evening she would sweep it away again with the broom, indifferent as to whether it had been eaten or—more often than not—had been left totally untouched. She still cleared up the room in the evening, but now she could not have been any quicker about it. Smears of dirt were left on the walls, here and there were little balls of dust and filth. At first, Gregor went into one of the worst of these places when his sister arrived as a reproach to her, but he could have stayed there for weeks without his sister doing anything about it; she could see the dirt as well as he could but she had simply decided to leave him to it. At the same time she became touchy in a way that was quite new for her and which everyone in the family understood—cleaning up Gregor’s room was for her and her alone. Gregor’s mother did once thoroughly clean his room, and needed to use several bucketfuls of water to do it—although that much dampness also made Gregor ill and he lay flat on the couch, bitter and immobile. But his mother was to be punished still more for what she had done, as hardly had his sister arrived home in the evening than she noticed the change in Gregor’s room and, highly aggrieved, ran back into the living room where, despite her mothers raised and imploring hands, she broke into convulsive tears. Her father, of course, was startled out of his chair and the two parents looked on astonished and helpless; then they, too, became agitated; Gregor’s father, standing to the right of his mother, accused her of not leaving the cleaning of Gregor’s room to his sister; from her left, Gregor’s sister screamed at her that she was never to clean Gregor’s room again; while his mother tried to draw his father, who was beside himself with anger, into the bedroom; his sister, quaking with tears, thumped on the table with her small fists; and Gregor hissed in anger that no-one had even thought of closing the door to save him the sight of this and all its noise.
+
+Gregor’s sister was exhausted from going out to work, and looking after Gregor as she had done before was even more work for her, but even so his mother ought certainly not to have taken her place. Gregor, on the other hand, ought not to be neglected. Now, though, the charwoman was here. This elderly widow, with a robust bone structure that made her able to withstand the hardest of things in her long life, wasn’t really repelled by Gregor. Just by chance one day, rather than any real curiosity, she opened the door to Gregor’s room and found herself face to face with him. He was taken totally by surprise, no-one was chasing him but he began to rush to and fro while she just stood there in amazement with her hands crossed in front of her. From then on she never failed to open the door slightly every evening and morning and look briefly in on him. At first she would call to him as she did so with words that she probably considered friendly, such as “come on then, you old dung-beetle!”, or “look at the old dung-beetle there!” Gregor never responded to being spoken to in that way, but just remained where he was without moving as if the door had never even been opened. If only they had told this charwoman to clean up his room every day instead of letting her disturb him for no reason whenever she felt like it! One day, early in the morning while a heavy rain struck the windowpanes, perhaps indicating that spring was coming, she began to speak to him in that way once again. Gregor was so resentful of it that he started to move toward her, he was slow and infirm, but it was like a kind of attack. Instead of being afraid, the charwoman just lifted up one of the chairs from near the door and stood there with her mouth open, clearly intending not to close her mouth until the chair in her hand had been slammed down into Gregor’s back. “Aren’t you coming any closer, then?”, she asked when Gregor turned round again, and she calmly put the chair back in the corner.
+
+Gregor had almost entirely stopped eating. Only if he happened to find himself next to the food that had been prepared for him he might take some of it into his mouth to play with it, leave it there a few hours and then, more often than not, spit it out again. At first he thought it was distress at the state of his room that stopped him eating, but he had soon got used to the changes made there. They had got into the habit of putting things into this room that they had no room for anywhere else, and there were now many such things as one of the rooms in the flat had been rented out to three gentlemen. These earnest gentlemen—all three of them had full beards, as Gregor learned peering through the crack in the door one day—were painfully insistent on things’ being tidy. This meant not only in their own room but, since they had taken a room in this establishment, in the entire flat and especially in the kitchen. Unnecessary clutter was something they could not tolerate, especially if it was dirty. They had moreover brought most of their own furnishings and equipment with them. For this reason, many things had become superfluous which, although they could not be sold, the family did not wish to discard. All these things found their way into Gregor’s room. The dustbins from the kitchen found their way in there too. The charwoman was always in a hurry, and anything she couldn’t use for the time being she would just chuck in there. He, fortunately, would usually see no more than the object and the hand that held it. The woman most likely meant to fetch the things back out again when she had time and the opportunity, or to throw everything out in one go, but what actually happened was that they were left where they landed when they had first been thrown unless Gregor made his way through the junk and moved it somewhere else. At first he moved it because, with no other room free where he could crawl about, he was forced to, but later on he came to enjoy it although moving about in that way left him sad and tired to death, and he would remain immobile for hours afterwards.
+
+The gentlemen who rented the room would sometimes take their evening meal at home in the living room that was used by everyone, and so the door to this room was often kept closed in the evening. But Gregor found it easy to give up having the door open, he had, after all, often failed to make use of it when it was open and, without the family having noticed it, lain in his room in its darkest corner. One time, though, the charwoman left the door to the living room slightly open, and it remained open when the gentlemen who rented the room came in in the evening and the light was put on. They sat up at the table where, formerly, Gregor had taken his meals with his father and mother, they unfolded the serviettes and picked up their knives and forks. Gregor’s mother immediately appeared in the doorway with a dish of meat and soon behind her came his sister with a dish piled high with potatoes. The food was steaming, and filled the room with its smell. The gentlemen bent over the dishes set in front of them as if they wanted to test the food before eating it, and the gentleman in the middle, who seemed to count as an authority for the other two, did indeed cut off a piece of meat while it was still in its dish, clearly wishing to establish whether it was sufficiently cooked or whether it should be sent back to the kitchen. It was to his satisfaction, and Gregor’s mother and sister, who had been looking on anxiously, began to breathe again and smiled.
+
+The family themselves ate in the kitchen. Nonetheless, Gregor’s father came into the living room before he went into the kitchen, bowed once with his cap in his hand and did his round of the table. The gentlemen stood as one, and mumbled something into their beards. Then, once they were alone, they ate in near perfect silence. It seemed remarkable to Gregor that above all the various noises of eating their chewing teeth could still be heard, as if they had wanted to show Gregor that you need teeth in order to eat and it was not possible to perform anything with jaws that are toothless however nice they might be. “I’d like to eat something”, said Gregor anxiously, “but not anything like they’re eating. They do feed themselves. And here I am, dying!”
+
+Throughout all this time, Gregor could not remember having heard the violin being played, but this evening it began to be heard from the kitchen. The three gentlemen had already finished their meal, the one in the middle had produced a newspaper, given a page to each of the others, and now they leant back in their chairs reading them and smoking. When the violin began playing they became attentive, stood up and went on tip-toe over to the door of the hallway where they stood pressed against each other. Someone must have heard them in the kitchen, as Gregor’s father called out: “Is the playing perhaps unpleasant for the gentlemen? We can stop it straight away.” “On the contrary”, said the middle gentleman, “would the young lady not like to come in and play for us here in the room, where it is, after all, much more cosy and comfortable?” “Oh yes, we’d love to”, called back Gregor’s father as if he had been the violin player himself. The gentlemen stepped back into the room and waited. Gregor’s father soon appeared with the music stand, his mother with the music and his sister with the violin. She calmly prepared everything for her to begin playing; his parents, who had never rented a room out before and therefore showed an exaggerated courtesy towards the three gentlemen, did not even dare to sit on their own chairs; his father leant against the door with his right hand pushed in between two buttons on his uniform coat; his mother, though, was offered a seat by one of the gentlemen and sat—leaving the chair where the gentleman happened to have placed it—out of the way in a corner.
+
+His sister began to play; father and mother paid close attention, one on each side, to the movements of her hands. Drawn in by the playing, Gregor had dared to come forward a little and already had his head in the living room. Before, he had taken great pride in how considerate he was but now it hardly occurred to him that he had become so thoughtless about the others. What’s more, there was now all the more reason to keep himself hidden as he was covered in the dust that lay everywhere in his room and flew up at the slightest movement; he carried threads, hairs, and remains of food about on his back and sides; he was much too indifferent to everything now to lay on his back and wipe himself on the carpet like he had used to do several times a day. And despite this condition, he was not too shy to move forward a little onto the immaculate floor of the living room.
+
+No-one noticed him, though. The family was totally preoccupied with the violin playing; at first, the three gentlemen had put their hands in their pockets and come up far too close behind the music stand to look at all the notes being played, and they must have disturbed Gregor’s sister, but soon, in contrast with the family, they withdrew back to the window with their heads sunk and talking to each other at half volume, and they stayed by the window while Gregor’s father observed them anxiously. It really now seemed very obvious that they had expected to hear some beautiful or entertaining violin playing but had been disappointed, that they had had enough of the whole performance and it was only now out of politeness that they allowed their peace to be disturbed. It was especially unnerving, the way they all blew the smoke from their cigarettes upwards from their mouth and noses. Yet Gregor’s sister was playing so beautifully. Her face was leant to one side, following the lines of music with a careful and melancholy expression. Gregor crawled a little further forward, keeping his head close to the ground so that he could meet her eyes if the chance came. Was he an animal if music could captivate him so? It seemed to him that he was being shown the way to the unknown nourishment he had been yearning for. He was determined to make his way forward to his sister and tug at her skirt to show her she might come into his room with her violin, as no-one appreciated her playing here as much as he would. He never wanted to let her out of his room, not while he lived, anyway; his shocking appearance should, for once, be of some use to him; he wanted to be at every door of his room at once to hiss and spit at the attackers; his sister should not be forced to stay with him, though, but stay of her own free will; she would sit beside him on the couch with her ear bent down to him while he told her how he had always intended to send her to the conservatory, how he would have told everyone about it last Christmas—had Christmas really come and gone already?—if this misfortune hadn’t got in the way, and refuse to let anyone dissuade him from it. On hearing all this, his sister would break out in tears of emotion, and Gregor would climb up to her shoulder and kiss her neck, which, since she had been going out to work, she had kept free without any necklace or collar.
+
+“Mr. Samsa!”, shouted the middle gentleman to Gregor’s father, pointing, without wasting any more words, with his forefinger at Gregor as he slowly moved forward. The violin went silent, the middle of the three gentlemen first smiled at his two friends, shaking his head, and then looked back at Gregor. His father seemed to think it more important to calm the three gentlemen before driving Gregor out, even though they were not at all upset and seemed to think Gregor was more entertaining than the violin playing had been. He rushed up to them with his arms spread out and attempted to drive them back into their room at the same time as trying to block their view of Gregor with his body. Now they did become a little annoyed, and it was not clear whether it was his father’s behaviour that annoyed them or the dawning realisation that they had had a neighbour like Gregor in the next room without knowing it. They asked Gregor’s father for explanations, raised their arms like he had, tugged excitedly at their beards and moved back towards their room only very slowly. Meanwhile Gregor’s sister had overcome the despair she had fallen into when her playing was suddenly interrupted. She had let her hands drop and let violin and bow hang limply for a while but continued to look at the music as if still playing, but then she suddenly pulled herself together, lay the instrument on her mother’s lap who still sat laboriously struggling for breath where she was, and ran into the next room which, under pressure from her father, the three gentlemen were more quickly moving toward. Under his sister’s experienced hand, the pillows and covers on the beds flew up and were put into order and she had already finished making the beds and slipped out again before the three gentlemen had reached the room. Gregor’s father seemed so obsessed with what he was doing that he forgot all the respect he owed to his tenants. He urged them and pressed them until, when he was already at the door of the room, the middle of the three gentlemen shouted like thunder and stamped his foot and thereby brought Gregor’s father to a halt. “I declare here and now”, he said, raising his hand and glancing at Gregor’s mother and sister to gain their attention too, “that with regard to the repugnant conditions that prevail in this flat and with this family”—here he looked briefly but decisively at the floor—“I give immediate notice on my room. For the days that I have been living here I will, of course, pay nothing at all, on the contrary I will consider whether to proceed with some kind of action for damages from you, and believe me it would be very easy to set out the grounds for such an action.” He was silent and looked straight ahead as if waiting for something. And indeed, his two friends joined in with the words: “And we also give immediate notice.” With that, he took hold of the door handle and slammed the door.
+
+Gregor’s father staggered back to his seat, feeling his way with his hands, and fell into it; it looked as if he was stretching himself out for his usual evening nap but from the uncontrolled way his head kept nodding it could be seen that he was not sleeping at all. Throughout all this, Gregor had lain still where the three gentlemen had first seen him. His disappointment at the failure of his plan, and perhaps also because he was weak from hunger, made it impossible for him to move. He was sure that everyone would turn on him any moment, and he waited. He was not even startled out of this state when the violin on his mother’s lap fell from her trembling fingers and landed loudly on the floor.
+
+“Father, Mother”, said his sister, hitting the table with her hand as introduction, “we can’t carry on like this. Maybe you can’t see it, but I can. I don’t want to call this monster my brother, all I can say is: we have to try and get rid of it. We’ve done all that’s humanly possible to look after it and be patient, I don’t think anyone could accuse us of doing anything wrong.”
+
+“She’s absolutely right”, said Gregor’s father to himself. His mother, who still had not had time to catch her breath, began to cough dully, her hand held out in front of her and a deranged expression in her eyes.
+
+Gregor’s sister rushed to his mother and put her hand on her forehead. Her words seemed to give Gregor’s father some more definite ideas. He sat upright, played with his uniform cap between the plates left by the three gentlemen after their meal, and occasionally looked down at Gregor as he lay there immobile.
+
+“We have to try and get rid of it”, said Gregor’s sister, now speaking only to her father, as her mother was too occupied with coughing to listen, “it’ll be the death of both of you, I can see it coming. We can’t all work as hard as we have to and then come home to be tortured like this, we can’t endure it. I can’t endure it any more.” And she broke out so heavily in tears that they flowed down the face of her mother, and she wiped them away with mechanical hand movements.
+
+“My child”, said her father with sympathy and obvious understanding, “what are we to do?”
+
+His sister just shrugged her shoulders as a sign of the helplessness and tears that had taken hold of her, displacing her earlier certainty.
+
+“If he could just understand us”, said his father almost as a question; his sister shook her hand vigorously through her tears as a sign that of that there was no question.
+
+“If he could just understand us”, repeated Gregor’s father, closing his eyes in acceptance of his sister’s certainty that that was quite impossible, “then perhaps we could come to some kind of arrangement with him. But as it is ...”
+
+“It’s got to go”, shouted his sister, “that’s the only way, Father. You’ve got to get rid of the idea that that’s Gregor. We’ve only harmed ourselves by believing it for so long. How can that be Gregor? If it were Gregor he would have seen long ago that it’s not possible for human beings to live with an animal like that and he would have gone of his own free will. We wouldn’t have a brother any more, then, but we could carry on with our lives and remember him with respect. As it is this animal is persecuting us, it’s driven out our tenants, it obviously wants to take over the whole flat and force us to sleep on the streets. Father, look, just look”, she suddenly screamed, “he’s starting again!” In her alarm, which was totally beyond Gregor’s comprehension, his sister even abandoned his mother as she pushed herself vigorously out of her chair as if more willing to sacrifice her own mother than stay anywhere near Gregor. She rushed over to behind her father, who had become excited merely because she was and stood up half raising his hands in front of Gregor’s sister as if to protect her.
+
+But Gregor had had no intention of frightening anyone, least of all his sister. All he had done was begin to turn round so that he could go back into his room, although that was in itself quite startling as his pain-wracked condition meant that turning round required a great deal of effort and he was using his head to help himself do it, repeatedly raising it and striking it against the floor. He stopped and looked round. They seemed to have realised his good intention and had only been alarmed briefly. Now they all looked at him in unhappy silence. His mother lay in her chair with her legs stretched out and pressed against each other, her eyes nearly closed with exhaustion; his sister sat next to his father with her arms around his neck.
+
+“Maybe now they’ll let me turn round”, thought Gregor and went back to work. He could not help panting loudly with the effort and had sometimes to stop and take a rest. No-one was making him rush any more, everything was left up to him. As soon as he had finally finished turning round he began to move straight ahead. He was amazed at the great distance that separated him from his room, and could not understand how he had covered that distance in his weak state a little while before and almost without noticing it. He concentrated on crawling as fast as he could and hardly noticed that there was not a word, not any cry, from his family to distract him. He did not turn his head until he had reached the doorway. He did not turn it all the way round as he felt his neck becoming stiff, but it was nonetheless enough to see that nothing behind him had changed, only his sister had stood up. With his last glance he saw that his mother had now fallen completely asleep.
+
+He was hardly inside his room before the door was hurriedly shut, bolted and locked. The sudden noise behind Gregor so startled him that his little legs collapsed under him. It was his sister who had been in so much of a rush. She had been standing there waiting and sprung forward lightly, Gregor had not heard her coming at all, and as she turned the key in the lock she said loudly to her parents “At last!”.
+
+“What now, then?”, Gregor asked himself as he looked round in the darkness. He soon made the discovery that he could no longer move at all. This was no surprise to him, it seemed rather that being able to actually move around on those spindly little legs until then was unnatural. He also felt relatively comfortable. It is true that his entire body was aching, but the pain seemed to be slowly getting weaker and weaker and would finally disappear altogether. He could already hardly feel the decayed apple in his back or the inflamed area around it, which was entirely covered in white dust. He thought back of his family with emotion and love. If it was possible, he felt that he must go away even more strongly than his sister. He remained in this state of empty and peaceful rumination until he heard the clock tower strike three in the morning. He watched as it slowly began to get light everywhere outside the window too. Then, without his willing it, his head sank down completely, and his last breath flowed weakly from his nostrils.
+
+When the cleaner came in early in the morning—they’d often asked her not to keep slamming the doors but with her strength and in her hurry she still did, so that everyone in the flat knew when she’d arrived and from then on it was impossible to sleep in peace—she made her usual brief look in on Gregor and at first found nothing special. She thought he was laying there so still on purpose, playing the martyr; she attributed all possible understanding to him. She happened to be holding the long broom in her hand, so she tried to tickle Gregor with it from the doorway. When she had no success with that she tried to make a nuisance of herself and poked at him a little, and only when she found she could shove him across the floor with no resistance at all did she start to pay attention. She soon realised what had really happened, opened her eyes wide, whistled to herself, but did not waste time to yank open the bedroom doors and shout loudly into the darkness of the bedrooms: “Come and ’ave a look at this, it’s dead, just lying there, stone dead!”
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Samsa sat upright there in their marriage bed and had to make an effort to get over the shock caused by the cleaner before they could grasp what she was saying. But then, each from his own side, they hurried out of bed. Mr. Samsa threw the blanket over his shoulders, Mrs. Samsa just came out in her nightdress; and that is how they went into Gregor’s room. On the way they opened the door to the living room where Grete had been sleeping since the three gentlemen had moved in; she was fully dressed as if she had never been asleep, and the paleness of her face seemed to confirm this. “Dead?”, asked Mrs. Samsa, looking at the charwoman enquiringly, even though she could have checked for herself and could have known it even without checking. “That’s what I said”, replied the cleaner, and to prove it she gave Gregor’s body another shove with the broom, sending it sideways across the floor. Mrs. Samsa made a movement as if she wanted to hold back the broom, but did not complete it. “Now then”, said Mr. Samsa, “let’s give thanks to God for that”. He crossed himself, and the three women followed his example. Grete, who had not taken her eyes from the corpse, said: “Just look how thin he was. He didn’t eat anything for so long. The food came out again just the same as when it went in”. Gregor’s body was indeed completely dried up and flat, they had not seen it until then, but now he was not lifted up on his little legs, nor did he do anything to make them look away.
+
+“Grete, come with us in here for a little while”, said Mrs. Samsa with a pained smile, and Grete followed her parents into the bedroom but not without looking back at the body. The cleaner shut the door and opened the window wide. Although it was still early in the morning the fresh air had something of warmth mixed in with it. It was already the end of March, after all.
+
+The three gentlemen stepped out of their room and looked round in amazement for their breakfasts; they had been forgotten about. “Where is our breakfast?”, the middle gentleman asked the cleaner irritably. She just put her finger on her lips and made a quick and silent sign to the men that they might like to come into Gregor’s room. They did so, and stood around Gregor’s corpse with their hands in the pockets of their well-worn coats. It was now quite light in the room.
+
+Then the door of the bedroom opened and Mr. Samsa appeared in his uniform with his wife on one arm and his daughter on the other. All of them had been crying a little; Grete now and then pressed her face against her father’s arm.
+
+“Leave my home. Now!”, said Mr. Samsa, indicating the door and without letting the women from him. “What do you mean?”, asked the middle of the three gentlemen somewhat disconcerted, and he smiled sweetly. The other two held their hands behind their backs and continually rubbed them together in gleeful anticipation of a loud quarrel which could only end in their favour. “I mean just what I said”, answered Mr. Samsa, and, with his two companions, went in a straight line towards the man. At first, he stood there still, looking at the ground as if the contents of his head were rearranging themselves into new positions. “Alright, we’ll go then”, he said, and looked up at Mr. Samsa as if he had been suddenly overcome with humility and wanted permission again from Mr. Samsa for his decision. Mr. Samsa merely opened his eyes wide and briefly nodded to him several times. At that, and without delay, the man actually did take long strides into the front hallway; his two friends had stopped rubbing their hands some time before and had been listening to what was being said. Now they jumped off after their friend as if taken with a sudden fear that Mr. Samsa might go into the hallway in front of them and break the connection with their leader. Once there, all three took their hats from the stand, took their sticks from the holder, bowed without a word and left the premises. Mr. Samsa and the two women followed them out onto the landing; but they had had no reason to mistrust the men’s intentions and as they leaned over the landing they saw how the three gentlemen made slow but steady progress down the many steps. As they turned the corner on each floor they disappeared and would reappear a few moments later; the further down they went, the more that the Samsa family lost interest in them; when a butcher’s boy, proud of posture with his tray on his head, passed them on his way up and came nearer than they were, Mr. Samsa and the women came away from the landing and went, as if relieved, back into the flat.
+
+They decided the best way to make use of that day was for relaxation and to go for a walk; not only had they earned a break from work but they were in serious need of it. So they sat at the table and wrote three letters of excusal, Mr. Samsa to his employers, Mrs. Samsa to her contractor and Grete to her principal. The cleaner came in while they were writing to tell them she was going, she’d finished her work for that morning. The three of them at first just nodded without looking up from what they were writing, and it was only when the cleaner still did not seem to want to leave that they looked up in irritation. “Well?”, asked Mr. Samsa. The charwoman stood in the doorway with a smile on her face as if she had some tremendous good news to report, but would only do it if she was clearly asked to. The almost vertical little ostrich feather on her hat, which had been a source of irritation to Mr. Samsa all the time she had been working for them, swayed gently in all directions. “What is it you want then?”, asked Mrs. Samsa, whom the cleaner had the most respect for. “Yes”, she answered, and broke into a friendly laugh that made her unable to speak straight away, “well then, that thing in there, you needn’t worry about how you’re going to get rid of it. That’s all been sorted out.” Mrs. Samsa and Grete bent down over their letters as if intent on continuing with what they were writing; Mr. Samsa saw that the cleaner wanted to start describing everything in detail but, with outstretched hand, he made it quite clear that she was not to. So, as she was prevented from telling them all about it, she suddenly remembered what a hurry she was in and, clearly peeved, called out “Cheerio then, everyone”, turned round sharply and left, slamming the door terribly as she went.
+
+“Tonight she gets sacked”, said Mr. Samsa, but he received no reply from either his wife or his daughter as the charwoman seemed to have destroyed the peace they had only just gained. They got up and went over to the window where they remained with their arms around each other. Mr. Samsa twisted round in his chair to look at them and sat there watching for a while. Then he called out: “Come here, then. Let’s forget about all that old stuff, shall we. Come and give me a bit of attention”. The two women immediately did as he said, hurrying over to him where they kissed him and hugged him and then they quickly finished their letters.
+
+After that, the three of them left the flat together, which was something they had not done for months, and took the tram out to the open country outside the town. They had the tram, filled with warm sunshine, all to themselves. Leant back comfortably on their seats, they discussed their prospects and found that on closer examination they were not at all bad—until then they had never asked each other about their work but all three had jobs which were very good and held particularly good promise for the future. The greatest improvement for the time being, of course, would be achieved quite easily by moving house; what they needed now was a flat that was smaller and cheaper than the current one which had been chosen by Gregor, one that was in a better location and, most of all, more practical. All the time, Grete was becoming livelier. With all the worry they had been having of late her cheeks had become pale, but, while they were talking, Mr. and Mrs. Samsa were struck, almost simultaneously, with the thought of how their daughter was blossoming into a well built and beautiful young lady. They became quieter. Just from each other’s glance and almost without knowing it they agreed that it would soon be time to find a good man for her. And, as if in confirmation of their new dreams and good intentions, as soon as they reached their destination Grete was the first to get up and stretch out her young body.

src/content/blog/sleep-hollow/index.md

@@ -0,0 +1,177 @@
+---
+title: The Legend of Sleepy Hollow (1820)
+description: The tale of a lanky, superstitious schoolmaster.
+publicationDate: 2024-07-01
+---
+
+## FOUND AMONG THE PAPERS OF THE LATE DIEDRICH KNICKERBOCKER.
+
+> I pleasing land of drowsy head it was,
+>
+> > Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye;
+>
+> And of gay castles in the clouds that pass,
+>
+> > Forever flushing round a summer sky.
+>
+> > > CASTLE OF INDOLENCE.
+
+In the bosom of one of those spacious coves which indent the eastern shore of the Hudson, at that broad expansion of the river denominated by the ancient Dutch navigators the Tappan Zee, and where they always prudently shortened sail and implored the protection of St. Nicholas when they crossed, there lies a small market town or rural port, which by some is called Greensburgh, but which is more generally and properly known by the name of Tarry Town. This name was given, we are told, in former days, by the good housewives of the adjacent country, from the inveterate propensity of their husbands to linger about the village tavern on market days. Be that as it may, I do not vouch for the fact, but merely advert to it, for the sake of being precise and authentic. Not far from this village, perhaps about two miles, there is a little valley or rather lap of land among high hills, which is one of the quietest places in the whole world. A small brook glides through it, with just murmur enough to lull one to repose; and the occasional whistle of a quail or tapping of a woodpecker is almost the only sound that ever breaks in upon the uniform tranquillity.
+
+I recollect that, when a stripling, my first exploit in squirrel-shooting was in a grove of tall walnut-trees that shades one side of the valley. I had wandered into it at noontime, when all nature is peculiarly quiet, and was startled by the roar of my own gun, as it broke the Sabbath stillness around and was prolonged and reverberated by the angry echoes. If ever I should wish for a retreat whither I might steal from the world and its distractions, and dream quietly away the remnant of a troubled life, I know of none more promising than this little valley.
+
+From the listless repose of the place, and the peculiar character of its inhabitants, who are descendants from the original Dutch settlers, this sequestered glen has long been known by the name of SLEEPY HOLLOW, and its rustic lads are called the Sleepy Hollow Boys throughout all the neighboring country. A drowsy, dreamy influence seems to hang over the land, and to pervade the very atmosphere. Some say that the place was bewitched by a High German doctor, during the early days of the settlement; others, that an old Indian chief, the prophet or wizard of his tribe, held his powwows there before the country was discovered by Master Hendrick Hudson. Certain it is, the place still continues under the sway of some witching power, that holds a spell over the minds of the good people, causing them to walk in a continual reverie. They are given to all kinds of marvellous beliefs, are subject to trances and visions, and frequently see strange sights, and hear music and voices in the air. The whole neighborhood abounds with local tales, haunted spots, and twilight superstitions; stars shoot and meteors glare oftener across the valley than in any other part of the country, and the nightmare, with her whole ninefold, seems to make it the favorite scene of her gambols.
+
+The dominant spirit, however, that haunts this enchanted region, and seems to be commander-in-chief of all the powers of the air, is the apparition of a figure on horseback, without a head. It is said by some to be the ghost of a Hessian trooper, whose head had been carried away by a cannon-ball, in some nameless battle during the Revolutionary War, and who is ever and anon seen by the country folk hurrying along in the gloom of night, as if on the wings of the wind. His haunts are not confined to the valley, but extend at times to the adjacent roads, and especially to the vicinity of a church at no great distance. Indeed, certain of the most authentic historians of those parts, who have been careful in collecting and collating the floating facts concerning this spectre, allege that the body of the trooper having been buried in the churchyard, the ghost rides forth to the scene of battle in nightly quest of his head, and that the rushing speed with which he sometimes passes along the Hollow, like a midnight blast, is owing to his being belated, and in a hurry to get back to the churchyard before daybreak.
+
+Such is the general purport of this legendary superstition, which has furnished materials for many a wild story in that region of shadows; and the spectre is known at all the country firesides, by the name of the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow.
+
+It is remarkable that the visionary propensity I have mentioned is not confined to the native inhabitants of the valley, but is unconsciously imbibed by every one who resides there for a time. However wide awake they may have been before they entered that sleepy region, they are sure, in a little time, to inhale the witching influence of the air, and begin to grow imaginative, to dream dreams, and see apparitions.
+
+I mention this peaceful spot with all possible laud, for it is in such little retired Dutch valleys, found here and there embosomed in the great State of New York, that population, manners, and customs remain fixed, while the great torrent of migration and improvement, which is making such incessant changes in other parts of this restless country, sweeps by them unobserved. They are like those little nooks of still water, which border a rapid stream, where we may see the straw and bubble riding quietly at anchor, or slowly revolving in their mimic harbor, undisturbed by the rush of the passing current. Though many years have elapsed since I trod the drowsy shades of Sleepy Hollow, yet I question whether I should not still find the same trees and the same families vegetating in its sheltered bosom.
+
+In this by-place of nature there abode, in a remote period of American history, that is to say, some thirty years since, a worthy wight of the name of Ichabod Crane, who sojourned, or, as he expressed it, “tarried,” in Sleepy Hollow, for the purpose of instructing the children of the vicinity. He was a native of Connecticut, a State which supplies the Union with pioneers for the mind as well as for the forest, and sends forth yearly its legions of frontier woodmen and country schoolmasters. The cognomen of Crane was not inapplicable to his person. He was tall, but exceedingly lank, with narrow shoulders, long arms and legs, hands that dangled a mile out of his sleeves, feet that might have served for shovels, and his whole frame most loosely hung together. His head was small, and flat at top, with huge ears, large green glassy eyes, and a long snipe nose, so that it looked like a weather-cock perched upon his spindle neck to tell which way the wind blew. To see him striding along the profile of a hill on a windy day, with his clothes bagging and fluttering about him, one might have mistaken him for the genius of famine descending upon the earth, or some scarecrow eloped from a cornfield.
+
+His schoolhouse was a low building of one large room, rudely constructed of logs; the windows partly glazed, and partly patched with leaves of old copybooks. It was most ingeniously secured at vacant hours, by a withe twisted in the handle of the door, and stakes set against the window shutters; so that though a thief might get in with perfect ease, he would find some embarrassment in getting out,—an idea most probably borrowed by the architect, Yost Van Houten, from the mystery of an eelpot. The schoolhouse stood in a rather lonely but pleasant situation, just at the foot of a woody hill, with a brook running close by, and a formidable birch-tree growing at one end of it. From hence the low murmur of his pupils’ voices, conning over their lessons, might be heard in a drowsy summer’s day, like the hum of a beehive; interrupted now and then by the authoritative voice of the master, in the tone of menace or command, or, peradventure, by the appalling sound of the birch, as he urged some tardy loiterer along the flowery path of knowledge. Truth to say, he was a conscientious man, and ever bore in mind the golden maxim, “Spare the rod and spoil the child.” Ichabod Crane’s scholars certainly were not spoiled.
+
+I would not have it imagined, however, that he was one of those cruel potentates of the school who joy in the smart of their subjects; on the contrary, he administered justice with discrimination rather than severity; taking the burden off the backs of the weak, and laying it on those of the strong. Your mere puny stripling, that winced at the least flourish of the rod, was passed by with indulgence; but the claims of justice were satisfied by inflicting a double portion on some little tough wrong-headed, broad-skirted Dutch urchin, who sulked and swelled and grew dogged and sullen beneath the birch. All this he called “doing his duty by their parents;” and he never inflicted a chastisement without following it by the assurance, so consolatory to the smarting urchin, that “he would remember it and thank him for it the longest day he had to live.”
+
+When school hours were over, he was even the companion and playmate of the larger boys; and on holiday afternoons would convoy some of the smaller ones home, who happened to have pretty sisters, or good housewives for mothers, noted for the comforts of the cupboard. Indeed, it behooved him to keep on good terms with his pupils. The revenue arising from his school was small, and would have been scarcely sufficient to furnish him with daily bread, for he was a huge feeder, and, though lank, had the dilating powers of an anaconda; but to help out his maintenance, he was, according to country custom in those parts, boarded and lodged at the houses of the farmers whose children he instructed. With these he lived successively a week at a time, thus going the rounds of the neighborhood, with all his worldly effects tied up in a cotton handkerchief.
+
+That all this might not be too onerous on the purses of his rustic patrons, who are apt to consider the costs of schooling a grievous burden, and schoolmasters as mere drones, he had various ways of rendering himself both useful and agreeable. He assisted the farmers occasionally in the lighter labors of their farms, helped to make hay, mended the fences, took the horses to water, drove the cows from pasture, and cut wood for the winter fire. He laid aside, too, all the dominant dignity and absolute sway with which he lorded it in his little empire, the school, and became wonderfully gentle and ingratiating. He found favor in the eyes of the mothers by petting the children, particularly the youngest; and like the lion bold, which whilom so magnanimously the lamb did hold, he would sit with a child on one knee, and rock a cradle with his foot for whole hours together.
+
+In addition to his other vocations, he was the singing-master of the neighborhood, and picked up many bright shillings by instructing the young folks in psalmody. It was a matter of no little vanity to him on Sundays, to take his station in front of the church gallery, with a band of chosen singers; where, in his own mind, he completely carried away the palm from the parson. Certain it is, his voice resounded far above all the rest of the congregation; and there are peculiar quavers still to be heard in that church, and which may even be heard half a mile off, quite to the opposite side of the millpond, on a still Sunday morning, which are said to be legitimately descended from the nose of Ichabod Crane. Thus, by divers little makeshifts, in that ingenious way which is commonly denominated “by hook and by crook,” the worthy pedagogue got on tolerably enough, and was thought, by all who understood nothing of the labor of headwork, to have a wonderfully easy life of it.
+
+The schoolmaster is generally a man of some importance in the female circle of a rural neighborhood; being considered a kind of idle, gentlemanlike personage, of vastly superior taste and accomplishments to the rough country swains, and, indeed, inferior in learning only to the parson. His appearance, therefore, is apt to occasion some little stir at the tea-table of a farmhouse, and the addition of a supernumerary dish of cakes or sweetmeats, or, peradventure, the parade of a silver teapot. Our man of letters, therefore, was peculiarly happy in the smiles of all the country damsels. How he would figure among them in the churchyard, between services on Sundays; gathering grapes for them from the wild vines that overran the surrounding trees; reciting for their amusement all the epitaphs on the tombstones; or sauntering, with a whole bevy of them, along the banks of the adjacent millpond; while the more bashful country bumpkins hung sheepishly back, envying his superior elegance and address.
+
+From his half-itinerant life, also, he was a kind of travelling gazette, carrying the whole budget of local gossip from house to house, so that his appearance was always greeted with satisfaction. He was, moreover, esteemed by the women as a man of great erudition, for he had read several books quite through, and was a perfect master of Cotton Mather’s “History of New England Witchcraft,” in which, by the way, he most firmly and potently believed.
+
+He was, in fact, an odd mixture of small shrewdness and simple credulity. His appetite for the marvellous, and his powers of digesting it, were equally extraordinary; and both had been increased by his residence in this spell-bound region. No tale was too gross or monstrous for his capacious swallow. It was often his delight, after his school was dismissed in the afternoon, to stretch himself on the rich bed of clover bordering the little brook that whimpered by his schoolhouse, and there con over old Mather’s direful tales, until the gathering dusk of evening made the printed page a mere mist before his eyes. Then, as he wended his way by swamp and stream and awful woodland, to the farmhouse where he happened to be quartered, every sound of nature, at that witching hour, fluttered his excited imagination,—the moan of the whip-poor-will from the hillside, the boding cry of the tree toad, that harbinger of storm, the dreary hooting of the screech owl, or the sudden rustling in the thicket of birds frightened from their roost. The fireflies, too, which sparkled most vividly in the darkest places, now and then startled him, as one of uncommon brightness would stream across his path; and if, by chance, a huge blockhead of a beetle came winging his blundering flight against him, the poor varlet was ready to give up the ghost, with the idea that he was struck with a witch’s token. His only resource on such occasions, either to drown thought or drive away evil spirits, was to sing psalm tunes and the good people of Sleepy Hollow, as they sat by their doors of an evening, were often filled with awe at hearing his nasal melody, “in linked sweetness long drawn out,” floating from the distant hill, or along the dusky road.
+
+Another of his sources of fearful pleasure was to pass long winter evenings with the old Dutch wives, as they sat spinning by the fire, with a row of apples roasting and spluttering along the hearth, and listen to their marvellous tales of ghosts and goblins, and haunted fields, and haunted brooks, and haunted bridges, and haunted houses, and particularly of the headless horseman, or Galloping Hessian of the Hollow, as they sometimes called him. He would delight them equally by his anecdotes of witchcraft, and of the direful omens and portentous sights and sounds in the air, which prevailed in the earlier times of Connecticut; and would frighten them woefully with speculations upon comets and shooting stars; and with the alarming fact that the world did absolutely turn round, and that they were half the time topsy-turvy!
+
+But if there was a pleasure in all this, while snugly cuddling in the chimney corner of a chamber that was all of a ruddy glow from the crackling wood fire, and where, of course, no spectre dared to show its face, it was dearly purchased by the terrors of his subsequent walk homewards. What fearful shapes and shadows beset his path, amidst the dim and ghastly glare of a snowy night! With what wistful look did he eye every trembling ray of light streaming across the waste fields from some distant window! How often was he appalled by some shrub covered with snow, which, like a sheeted spectre, beset his very path! How often did he shrink with curdling awe at the sound of his own steps on the frosty crust beneath his feet; and dread to look over his shoulder, lest he should behold some uncouth being tramping close behind him! And how often was he thrown into complete dismay by some rushing blast, howling among the trees, in the idea that it was the Galloping Hessian on one of his nightly scourings!
+
+All these, however, were mere terrors of the night, phantoms of the mind that walk in darkness; and though he had seen many spectres in his time, and been more than once beset by Satan in divers shapes, in his lonely perambulations, yet daylight put an end to all these evils; and he would have passed a pleasant life of it, in despite of the Devil and all his works, if his path had not been crossed by a being that causes more perplexity to mortal man than ghosts, goblins, and the whole race of witches put together, and that was—a woman.
+
+Among the musical disciples who assembled, one evening in each week, to receive his instructions in psalmody, was Katrina Van Tassel, the daughter and only child of a substantial Dutch farmer. She was a blooming lass of fresh eighteen; plump as a partridge; ripe and melting and rosy-cheeked as one of her father’s peaches, and universally famed, not merely for her beauty, but her vast expectations. She was withal a little of a coquette, as might be perceived even in her dress, which was a mixture of ancient and modern fashions, as most suited to set off her charms. She wore the ornaments of pure yellow gold, which her great-great-grandmother had brought over from Saardam; the tempting stomacher of the olden time, and withal a provokingly short petticoat, to display the prettiest foot and ankle in the country round.
+
+Ichabod Crane had a soft and foolish heart towards the sex; and it is not to be wondered at that so tempting a morsel soon found favor in his eyes, more especially after he had visited her in her paternal mansion. Old Baltus Van Tassel was a perfect picture of a thriving, contented, liberal-hearted farmer. He seldom, it is true, sent either his eyes or his thoughts beyond the boundaries of his own farm; but within those everything was snug, happy and well-conditioned. He was satisfied with his wealth, but not proud of it; and piqued himself upon the hearty abundance, rather than the style in which he lived. His stronghold was situated on the banks of the Hudson, in one of those green, sheltered, fertile nooks in which the Dutch farmers are so fond of nestling. A great elm tree spread its broad branches over it, at the foot of which bubbled up a spring of the softest and sweetest water, in a little well formed of a barrel; and then stole sparkling away through the grass, to a neighboring brook, that babbled along among alders and dwarf willows. Hard by the farmhouse was a vast barn, that might have served for a church; every window and crevice of which seemed bursting forth with the treasures of the farm; the flail was busily resounding within it from morning to night; swallows and martins skimmed twittering about the eaves; and rows of pigeons, some with one eye turned up, as if watching the weather, some with their heads under their wings or buried in their bosoms, and others swelling, and cooing, and bowing about their dames, were enjoying the sunshine on the roof. Sleek unwieldy porkers were grunting in the repose and abundance of their pens, from whence sallied forth, now and then, troops of sucking pigs, as if to snuff the air. A stately squadron of snowy geese were riding in an adjoining pond, convoying whole fleets of ducks; regiments of turkeys were gobbling through the farmyard, and Guinea fowls fretting about it, like ill-tempered housewives, with their peevish, discontented cry. Before the barn door strutted the gallant cock, that pattern of a husband, a warrior and a fine gentleman, clapping his burnished wings and crowing in the pride and gladness of his heart,—sometimes tearing up the earth with his feet, and then generously calling his ever-hungry family of wives and children to enjoy the rich morsel which he had discovered.
+
+The pedagogue’s mouth watered as he looked upon this sumptuous promise of luxurious winter fare. In his devouring mind’s eye, he pictured to himself every roasting-pig running about with a pudding in his belly, and an apple in his mouth; the pigeons were snugly put to bed in a comfortable pie, and tucked in with a coverlet of crust; the geese were swimming in their own gravy; and the ducks pairing cosily in dishes, like snug married couples, with a decent competency of onion sauce. In the porkers he saw carved out the future sleek side of bacon, and juicy relishing ham; not a turkey but he beheld daintily trussed up, with its gizzard under its wing, and, peradventure, a necklace of savory sausages; and even bright chanticleer himself lay sprawling on his back, in a side dish, with uplifted claws, as if craving that quarter which his chivalrous spirit disdained to ask while living.
+
+As the enraptured Ichabod fancied all this, and as he rolled his great green eyes over the fat meadow lands, the rich fields of wheat, of rye, of buckwheat, and Indian corn, and the orchards burdened with ruddy fruit, which surrounded the warm tenement of Van Tassel, his heart yearned after the damsel who was to inherit these domains, and his imagination expanded with the idea, how they might be readily turned into cash, and the money invested in immense tracts of wild land, and shingle palaces in the wilderness. Nay, his busy fancy already realized his hopes, and presented to him the blooming Katrina, with a whole family of children, mounted on the top of a wagon loaded with household trumpery, with pots and kettles dangling beneath; and he beheld himself bestriding a pacing mare, with a colt at her heels, setting out for Kentucky, Tennessee,—or the Lord knows where!
+
+When he entered the house, the conquest of his heart was complete. It was one of those spacious farmhouses, with high-ridged but lowly sloping roofs, built in the style handed down from the first Dutch settlers; the low projecting eaves forming a piazza along the front, capable of being closed up in bad weather. Under this were hung flails, harness, various utensils of husbandry, and nets for fishing in the neighboring river. Benches were built along the sides for summer use; and a great spinning-wheel at one end, and a churn at the other, showed the various uses to which this important porch might be devoted. From this piazza the wondering Ichabod entered the hall, which formed the centre of the mansion, and the place of usual residence. Here rows of resplendent pewter, ranged on a long dresser, dazzled his eyes. In one corner stood a huge bag of wool, ready to be spun; in another, a quantity of linsey-woolsey just from the loom; ears of Indian corn, and strings of dried apples and peaches, hung in gay festoons along the walls, mingled with the gaud of red peppers; and a door left ajar gave him a peep into the best parlor, where the claw-footed chairs and dark mahogany tables shone like mirrors; andirons, with their accompanying shovel and tongs, glistened from their covert of asparagus tops; mock-oranges and conch-shells decorated the mantelpiece; strings of various-colored birds eggs were suspended above it; a great ostrich egg was hung from the centre of the room, and a corner cupboard, knowingly left open, displayed immense treasures of old silver and well-mended china.
+
+From the moment Ichabod laid his eyes upon these regions of delight, the peace of his mind was at an end, and his only study was how to gain the affections of the peerless daughter of Van Tassel. In this enterprise, however, he had more real difficulties than generally fell to the lot of a knight-errant of yore, who seldom had anything but giants, enchanters, fiery dragons, and such like easily conquered adversaries, to contend with and had to make his way merely through gates of iron and brass, and walls of adamant to the castle keep, where the lady of his heart was confined; all which he achieved as easily as a man would carve his way to the centre of a Christmas pie; and then the lady gave him her hand as a matter of course. Ichabod, on the contrary, had to win his way to the heart of a country coquette, beset with a labyrinth of whims and caprices, which were forever presenting new difficulties and impediments; and he had to encounter a host of fearful adversaries of real flesh and blood, the numerous rustic admirers, who beset every portal to her heart, keeping a watchful and angry eye upon each other, but ready to fly out in the common cause against any new competitor.
+
+Among these, the most formidable was a burly, roaring, roystering blade, of the name of Abraham, or, according to the Dutch abbreviation, Brom Van Brunt, the hero of the country round, which rang with his feats of strength and hardihood. He was broad-shouldered and double-jointed, with short curly black hair, and a bluff but not unpleasant countenance, having a mingled air of fun and arrogance. From his Herculean frame and great powers of limb he had received the nickname of BROM BONES, by which he was universally known. He was famed for great knowledge and skill in horsemanship, being as dexterous on horseback as a Tartar. He was foremost at all races and cock fights; and, with the ascendancy which bodily strength always acquires in rustic life, was the umpire in all disputes, setting his hat on one side, and giving his decisions with an air and tone that admitted of no gainsay or appeal. He was always ready for either a fight or a frolic; but had more mischief than ill-will in his composition; and with all his overbearing roughness, there was a strong dash of waggish good humor at bottom. He had three or four boon companions, who regarded him as their model, and at the head of whom he scoured the country, attending every scene of feud or merriment for miles round. In cold weather he was distinguished by a fur cap, surmounted with a flaunting fox’s tail; and when the folks at a country gathering descried this well-known crest at a distance, whisking about among a squad of hard riders, they always stood by for a squall. Sometimes his crew would be heard dashing along past the farmhouses at midnight, with whoop and halloo, like a troop of Don Cossacks; and the old dames, startled out of their sleep, would listen for a moment till the hurry-scurry had clattered by, and then exclaim, “Ay, there goes Brom Bones and his gang!” The neighbors looked upon him with a mixture of awe, admiration, and good-will; and, when any madcap prank or rustic brawl occurred in the vicinity, always shook their heads, and warranted Brom Bones was at the bottom of it.
+
+This rantipole hero had for some time singled out the blooming Katrina for the object of his uncouth gallantries, and though his amorous toyings were something like the gentle caresses and endearments of a bear, yet it was whispered that she did not altogether discourage his hopes. Certain it is, his advances were signals for rival candidates to retire, who felt no inclination to cross a lion in his amours; insomuch, that when his horse was seen tied to Van Tassel’s paling, on a Sunday night, a sure sign that his master was courting, or, as it is termed, “sparking,” within, all other suitors passed by in despair, and carried the war into other quarters.
+
+Such was the formidable rival with whom Ichabod Crane had to contend, and, considering all things, a stouter man than he would have shrunk from the competition, and a wiser man would have despaired. He had, however, a happy mixture of pliability and perseverance in his nature; he was in form and spirit like a supple-jack—yielding, but tough; though he bent, he never broke; and though he bowed beneath the slightest pressure, yet, the moment it was away—jerk!—he was as erect, and carried his head as high as ever.
+
+To have taken the field openly against his rival would have been madness; for he was not a man to be thwarted in his amours, any more than that stormy lover, Achilles. Ichabod, therefore, made his advances in a quiet and gently insinuating manner. Under cover of his character of singing-master, he made frequent visits at the farmhouse; not that he had anything to apprehend from the meddlesome interference of parents, which is so often a stumbling-block in the path of lovers. Balt Van Tassel was an easy indulgent soul; he loved his daughter better even than his pipe, and, like a reasonable man and an excellent father, let her have her way in everything. His notable little wife, too, had enough to do to attend to her housekeeping and manage her poultry; for, as she sagely observed, ducks and geese are foolish things, and must be looked after, but girls can take care of themselves. Thus, while the busy dame bustled about the house, or plied her spinning-wheel at one end of the piazza, honest Balt would sit smoking his evening pipe at the other, watching the achievements of a little wooden warrior, who, armed with a sword in each hand, was most valiantly fighting the wind on the pinnacle of the barn. In the mean time, Ichabod would carry on his suit with the daughter by the side of the spring under the great elm, or sauntering along in the twilight, that hour so favorable to the lover’s eloquence.
+
+I profess not to know how women’s hearts are wooed and won. To me they have always been matters of riddle and admiration. Some seem to have but one vulnerable point, or door of access; while others have a thousand avenues, and may be captured in a thousand different ways. It is a great triumph of skill to gain the former, but a still greater proof of generalship to maintain possession of the latter, for man must battle for his fortress at every door and window. He who wins a thousand common hearts is therefore entitled to some renown; but he who keeps undisputed sway over the heart of a coquette is indeed a hero. Certain it is, this was not the case with the redoubtable Brom Bones; and from the moment Ichabod Crane made his advances, the interests of the former evidently declined: his horse was no longer seen tied to the palings on Sunday nights, and a deadly feud gradually arose between him and the preceptor of Sleepy Hollow.
+
+Brom, who had a degree of rough chivalry in his nature, would fain have carried matters to open warfare and have settled their pretensions to the lady, according to the mode of those most concise and simple reasoners, the knights-errant of yore,—by single combat; but Ichabod was too conscious of the superior might of his adversary to enter the lists against him; he had overheard a boast of Bones, that he would “double the schoolmaster up, and lay him on a shelf of his own schoolhouse;” and he was too wary to give him an opportunity. There was something extremely provoking in this obstinately pacific system; it left Brom no alternative but to draw upon the funds of rustic waggery in his disposition, and to play off boorish practical jokes upon his rival. Ichabod became the object of whimsical persecution to Bones and his gang of rough riders. They harried his hitherto peaceful domains; smoked out his singing school by stopping up the chimney; broke into the schoolhouse at night, in spite of its formidable fastenings of withe and window stakes, and turned everything topsy-turvy, so that the poor schoolmaster began to think all the witches in the country held their meetings there. But what was still more annoying, Brom took all opportunities of turning him into ridicule in presence of his mistress, and had a scoundrel dog whom he taught to whine in the most ludicrous manner, and introduced as a rival of Ichabod’s, to instruct her in psalmody.
+
+In this way matters went on for some time, without producing any material effect on the relative situations of the contending powers. On a fine autumnal afternoon, Ichabod, in pensive mood, sat enthroned on the lofty stool from whence he usually watched all the concerns of his little literary realm. In his hand he swayed a ferule, that sceptre of despotic power; the birch of justice reposed on three nails behind the throne, a constant terror to evil doers, while on the desk before him might be seen sundry contraband articles and prohibited weapons, detected upon the persons of idle urchins, such as half-munched apples, popguns, whirligigs, fly-cages, and whole legions of rampant little paper gamecocks. Apparently there had been some appalling act of justice recently inflicted, for his scholars were all busily intent upon their books, or slyly whispering behind them with one eye kept upon the master; and a kind of buzzing stillness reigned throughout the schoolroom. It was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of a negro in tow-cloth jacket and trowsers, a round-crowned fragment of a hat, like the cap of Mercury, and mounted on the back of a ragged, wild, half-broken colt, which he managed with a rope by way of halter. He came clattering up to the school door with an invitation to Ichabod to attend a merry-making or “quilting frolic,” to be held that evening at Mynheer Van Tassel’s; and having delivered his message with that air of importance, and effort at fine language, which a negro is apt to display on petty embassies of the kind, he dashed over the brook, and was seen scampering away up the hollow, full of the importance and hurry of his mission.
+
+All was now bustle and hubbub in the late quiet schoolroom. The scholars were hurried through their lessons without stopping at trifles; those who were nimble skipped over half with impunity, and those who were tardy had a smart application now and then in the rear, to quicken their speed or help them over a tall word. Books were flung aside without being put away on the shelves, inkstands were overturned, benches thrown down, and the whole school was turned loose an hour before the usual time, bursting forth like a legion of young imps, yelping and racketing about the green in joy at their early emancipation.
+
+The gallant Ichabod now spent at least an extra half hour at his toilet, brushing and furbishing up his best, and indeed only suit of rusty black, and arranging his locks by a bit of broken looking-glass that hung up in the schoolhouse. That he might make his appearance before his mistress in the true style of a cavalier, he borrowed a horse from the farmer with whom he was domiciliated, a choleric old Dutchman of the name of Hans Van Ripper, and, thus gallantly mounted, issued forth like a knight-errant in quest of adventures. But it is meet I should, in the true spirit of romantic story, give some account of the looks and equipments of my hero and his steed. The animal he bestrode was a broken-down plow-horse, that had outlived almost everything but its viciousness. He was gaunt and shagged, with a ewe neck, and a head like a hammer; his rusty mane and tail were tangled and knotted with burs; one eye had lost its pupil, and was glaring and spectral, but the other had the gleam of a genuine devil in it. Still he must have had fire and mettle in his day, if we may judge from the name he bore of Gunpowder. He had, in fact, been a favorite steed of his master’s, the choleric Van Ripper, who was a furious rider, and had infused, very probably, some of his own spirit into the animal; for, old and broken-down as he looked, there was more of the lurking devil in him than in any young filly in the country.
+
+Ichabod was a suitable figure for such a steed. He rode with short stirrups, which brought his knees nearly up to the pommel of the saddle; his sharp elbows stuck out like grasshoppers’; he carried his whip perpendicularly in his hand, like a sceptre, and as his horse jogged on, the motion of his arms was not unlike the flapping of a pair of wings. A small wool hat rested on the top of his nose, for so his scanty strip of forehead might be called, and the skirts of his black coat fluttered out almost to the horses tail. Such was the appearance of Ichabod and his steed as they shambled out of the gate of Hans Van Ripper, and it was altogether such an apparition as is seldom to be met with in broad daylight.
+
+It was, as I have said, a fine autumnal day; the sky was clear and serene, and nature wore that rich and golden livery which we always associate with the idea of abundance. The forests had put on their sober brown and yellow, while some trees of the tenderer kind had been nipped by the frosts into brilliant dyes of orange, purple, and scarlet. Streaming files of wild ducks began to make their appearance high in the air; the bark of the squirrel might be heard from the groves of beech and hickory-nuts, and the pensive whistle of the quail at intervals from the neighboring stubble field.
+
+The small birds were taking their farewell banquets. In the fullness of their revelry, they fluttered, chirping and frolicking from bush to bush, and tree to tree, capricious from the very profusion and variety around them. There was the honest cock robin, the favorite game of stripling sportsmen, with its loud querulous note; and the twittering blackbirds flying in sable clouds; and the golden-winged woodpecker with his crimson crest, his broad black gorget, and splendid plumage; and the cedar bird, with its red-tipt wings and yellow-tipt tail and its little monteiro cap of feathers; and the blue jay, that noisy coxcomb, in his gay light blue coat and white underclothes, screaming and chattering, nodding and bobbing and bowing, and pretending to be on good terms with every songster of the grove.
+
+As Ichabod jogged slowly on his way, his eye, ever open to every symptom of culinary abundance, ranged with delight over the treasures of jolly autumn. On all sides he beheld vast store of apples; some hanging in oppressive opulence on the trees; some gathered into baskets and barrels for the market; others heaped up in rich piles for the cider-press. Farther on he beheld great fields of Indian corn, with its golden ears peeping from their leafy coverts, and holding out the promise of cakes and hasty-pudding; and the yellow pumpkins lying beneath them, turning up their fair round bellies to the sun, and giving ample prospects of the most luxurious of pies; and anon he passed the fragrant buckwheat fields breathing the odor of the beehive, and as he beheld them, soft anticipations stole over his mind of dainty slapjacks, well buttered, and garnished with honey or treacle, by the delicate little dimpled hand of Katrina Van Tassel.
+
+Thus feeding his mind with many sweet thoughts and “sugared suppositions,” he journeyed along the sides of a range of hills which look out upon some of the goodliest scenes of the mighty Hudson. The sun gradually wheeled his broad disk down in the west. The wide bosom of the Tappan Zee lay motionless and glassy, excepting that here and there a gentle undulation waved and prolonged the blue shadow of the distant mountain. A few amber clouds floated in the sky, without a breath of air to move them. The horizon was of a fine golden tint, changing gradually into a pure apple green, and from that into the deep blue of the mid-heaven. A slanting ray lingered on the woody crests of the precipices that overhung some parts of the river, giving greater depth to the dark gray and purple of their rocky sides. A sloop was loitering in the distance, dropping slowly down with the tide, her sail hanging uselessly against the mast; and as the reflection of the sky gleamed along the still water, it seemed as if the vessel was suspended in the air.
+
+It was toward evening that Ichabod arrived at the castle of the Heer Van Tassel, which he found thronged with the pride and flower of the adjacent country. Old farmers, a spare leathern-faced race, in homespun coats and breeches, blue stockings, huge shoes, and magnificent pewter buckles. Their brisk, withered little dames, in close-crimped caps, long-waisted short gowns, homespun petticoats, with scissors and pincushions, and gay calico pockets hanging on the outside. Buxom lasses, almost as antiquated as their mothers, excepting where a straw hat, a fine ribbon, or perhaps a white frock, gave symptoms of city innovation. The sons, in short square-skirted coats, with rows of stupendous brass buttons, and their hair generally queued in the fashion of the times, especially if they could procure an eel-skin for the purpose, it being esteemed throughout the country as a potent nourisher and strengthener of the hair.
+
+Brom Bones, however, was the hero of the scene, having come to the gathering on his favorite steed Daredevil, a creature, like himself, full of mettle and mischief, and which no one but himself could manage. He was, in fact, noted for preferring vicious animals, given to all kinds of tricks which kept the rider in constant risk of his neck, for he held a tractable, well-broken horse as unworthy of a lad of spirit.
+
+Fain would I pause to dwell upon the world of charms that burst upon the enraptured gaze of my hero, as he entered the state parlor of Van Tassel’s mansion. Not those of the bevy of buxom lasses, with their luxurious display of red and white; but the ample charms of a genuine Dutch country tea-table, in the sumptuous time of autumn. Such heaped up platters of cakes of various and almost indescribable kinds, known only to experienced Dutch housewives! There was the doughty doughnut, the tender oly koek, and the crisp and crumbling cruller; sweet cakes and short cakes, ginger cakes and honey cakes, and the whole family of cakes. And then there were apple pies, and peach pies, and pumpkin pies; besides slices of ham and smoked beef; and moreover delectable dishes of preserved plums, and peaches, and pears, and quinces; not to mention broiled shad and roasted chickens; together with bowls of milk and cream, all mingled higgledy-piggledy, pretty much as I have enumerated them, with the motherly teapot sending up its clouds of vapor from the midst—Heaven bless the mark! I want breath and time to discuss this banquet as it deserves, and am too eager to get on with my story. Happily, Ichabod Crane was not in so great a hurry as his historian, but did ample justice to every dainty.
+
+He was a kind and thankful creature, whose heart dilated in proportion as his skin was filled with good cheer, and whose spirits rose with eating, as some men’s do with drink. He could not help, too, rolling his large eyes round him as he ate, and chuckling with the possibility that he might one day be lord of all this scene of almost unimaginable luxury and splendor. Then, he thought, how soon he’d turn his back upon the old schoolhouse; snap his fingers in the face of Hans Van Ripper, and every other niggardly patron, and kick any itinerant pedagogue out of doors that should dare to call him comrade!
+
+Old Baltus Van Tassel moved about among his guests with a face dilated with content and good humor, round and jolly as the harvest moon. His hospitable attentions were brief, but expressive, being confined to a shake of the hand, a slap on the shoulder, a loud laugh, and a pressing invitation to “fall to, and help themselves.”
+
+And now the sound of the music from the common room, or hall, summoned to the dance. The musician was an old gray-headed negro, who had been the itinerant orchestra of the neighborhood for more than half a century. His instrument was as old and battered as himself. The greater part of the time he scraped on two or three strings, accompanying every movement of the bow with a motion of the head; bowing almost to the ground, and stamping with his foot whenever a fresh couple were to start.
+
+Ichabod prided himself upon his dancing as much as upon his vocal powers. Not a limb, not a fibre about him was idle; and to have seen his loosely hung frame in full motion, and clattering about the room, you would have thought St. Vitus himself, that blessed patron of the dance, was figuring before you in person. He was the admiration of all the negroes; who, having gathered, of all ages and sizes, from the farm and the neighborhood, stood forming a pyramid of shining black faces at every door and window, gazing with delight at the scene, rolling their white eyeballs, and showing grinning rows of ivory from ear to ear. How could the flogger of urchins be otherwise than animated and joyous? The lady of his heart was his partner in the dance, and smiling graciously in reply to all his amorous oglings; while Brom Bones, sorely smitten with love and jealousy, sat brooding by himself in one corner.
+
+When the dance was at an end, Ichabod was attracted to a knot of the sager folks, who, with Old Van Tassel, sat smoking at one end of the piazza, gossiping over former times, and drawing out long stories about the war.
+
+This neighborhood, at the time of which I am speaking, was one of those highly favored places which abound with chronicle and great men. The British and American line had run near it during the war; it had, therefore, been the scene of marauding and infested with refugees, cowboys, and all kinds of border chivalry. Just sufficient time had elapsed to enable each storyteller to dress up his tale with a little becoming fiction, and, in the indistinctness of his recollection, to make himself the hero of every exploit.
+
+There was the story of Doffue Martling, a large blue-bearded Dutchman, who had nearly taken a British frigate with an old iron nine-pounder from a mud breastwork, only that his gun burst at the sixth discharge. And there was an old gentleman who shall be nameless, being too rich a mynheer to be lightly mentioned, who, in the battle of White Plains, being an excellent master of defence, parried a musket-ball with a small sword, insomuch that he absolutely felt it whiz round the blade, and glance off at the hilt; in proof of which he was ready at any time to show the sword, with the hilt a little bent. There were several more that had been equally great in the field, not one of whom but was persuaded that he had a considerable hand in bringing the war to a happy termination.
+
+But all these were nothing to the tales of ghosts and apparitions that succeeded. The neighborhood is rich in legendary treasures of the kind. Local tales and superstitions thrive best in these sheltered, long-settled retreats; but are trampled under foot by the shifting throng that forms the population of most of our country places. Besides, there is no encouragement for ghosts in most of our villages, for they have scarcely had time to finish their first nap and turn themselves in their graves, before their surviving friends have travelled away from the neighborhood; so that when they turn out at night to walk their rounds, they have no acquaintance left to call upon. This is perhaps the reason why we so seldom hear of ghosts except in our long-established Dutch communities.
+
+The immediate cause, however, of the prevalence of supernatural stories in these parts, was doubtless owing to the vicinity of Sleepy Hollow. There was a contagion in the very air that blew from that haunted region; it breathed forth an atmosphere of dreams and fancies infecting all the land. Several of the Sleepy Hollow people were present at Van Tassel’s, and, as usual, were doling out their wild and wonderful legends. Many dismal tales were told about funeral trains, and mourning cries and wailings heard and seen about the great tree where the unfortunate Major André was taken, and which stood in the neighborhood. Some mention was made also of the woman in white, that haunted the dark glen at Raven Rock, and was often heard to shriek on winter nights before a storm, having perished there in the snow. The chief part of the stories, however, turned upon the favorite spectre of Sleepy Hollow, the Headless Horseman, who had been heard several times of late, patrolling the country; and, it was said, tethered his horse nightly among the graves in the churchyard.
+
+The sequestered situation of this church seems always to have made it a favorite haunt of troubled spirits. It stands on a knoll, surrounded by locust-trees and lofty elms, from among which its decent, whitewashed walls shine modestly forth, like Christian purity beaming through the shades of retirement. A gentle slope descends from it to a silver sheet of water, bordered by high trees, between which, peeps may be caught at the blue hills of the Hudson. To look upon its grass-grown yard, where the sunbeams seem to sleep so quietly, one would think that there at least the dead might rest in peace. On one side of the church extends a wide woody dell, along which raves a large brook among broken rocks and trunks of fallen trees. Over a deep black part of the stream, not far from the church, was formerly thrown a wooden bridge; the road that led to it, and the bridge itself, were thickly shaded by overhanging trees, which cast a gloom about it, even in the daytime; but occasioned a fearful darkness at night. Such was one of the favorite haunts of the Headless Horseman, and the place where he was most frequently encountered. The tale was told of old Brouwer, a most heretical disbeliever in ghosts, how he met the Horseman returning from his foray into Sleepy Hollow, and was obliged to get up behind him; how they galloped over bush and brake, over hill and swamp, until they reached the bridge; when the Horseman suddenly turned into a skeleton, threw old Brouwer into the brook, and sprang away over the tree-tops with a clap of thunder.
+
+This story was immediately matched by a thrice marvellous adventure of Brom Bones, who made light of the Galloping Hessian as an arrant jockey. He affirmed that on returning one night from the neighboring village of Sing Sing, he had been overtaken by this midnight trooper; that he had offered to race with him for a bowl of punch, and should have won it too, for Daredevil beat the goblin horse all hollow, but just as they came to the church bridge, the Hessian bolted, and vanished in a flash of fire.
+
+All these tales, told in that drowsy undertone with which men talk in the dark, the countenances of the listeners only now and then receiving a casual gleam from the glare of a pipe, sank deep in the mind of Ichabod. He repaid them in kind with large extracts from his invaluable author, Cotton Mather, and added many marvellous events that had taken place in his native State of Connecticut, and fearful sights which he had seen in his nightly walks about Sleepy Hollow.
+
+The revel now gradually broke up. The old farmers gathered together their families in their wagons, and were heard for some time rattling along the hollow roads, and over the distant hills. Some of the damsels mounted on pillions behind their favorite swains, and their light-hearted laughter, mingling with the clatter of hoofs, echoed along the silent woodlands, sounding fainter and fainter, until they gradually died away,—and the late scene of noise and frolic was all silent and deserted. Ichabod only lingered behind, according to the custom of country lovers, to have a tête-à-tête with the heiress; fully convinced that he was now on the high road to success. What passed at this interview I will not pretend to say, for in fact I do not know. Something, however, I fear me, must have gone wrong, for he certainly sallied forth, after no very great interval, with an air quite desolate and chapfallen. Oh, these women! these women! Could that girl have been playing off any of her coquettish tricks? Was her encouragement of the poor pedagogue all a mere sham to secure her conquest of his rival? Heaven only knows, not I! Let it suffice to say, Ichabod stole forth with the air of one who had been sacking a henroost, rather than a fair lady’s heart. Without looking to the right or left to notice the scene of rural wealth, on which he had so often gloated, he went straight to the stable, and with several hearty cuffs and kicks roused his steed most uncourteously from the comfortable quarters in which he was soundly sleeping, dreaming of mountains of corn and oats, and whole valleys of timothy and clover.
+
+It was the very witching time of night that Ichabod, heavy-hearted and crestfallen, pursued his travels homewards, along the sides of the lofty hills which rise above Tarry Town, and which he had traversed so cheerily in the afternoon. The hour was as dismal as himself. Far below him the Tappan Zee spread its dusky and indistinct waste of waters, with here and there the tall mast of a sloop, riding quietly at anchor under the land. In the dead hush of midnight, he could even hear the barking of the watchdog from the opposite shore of the Hudson; but it was so vague and faint as only to give an idea of his distance from this faithful companion of man. Now and then, too, the long-drawn crowing of a cock, accidentally awakened, would sound far, far off, from some farmhouse away among the hills—but it was like a dreaming sound in his ear. No signs of life occurred near him, but occasionally the melancholy chirp of a cricket, or perhaps the guttural twang of a bullfrog from a neighboring marsh, as if sleeping uncomfortably and turning suddenly in his bed.
+
+All the stories of ghosts and goblins that he had heard in the afternoon now came crowding upon his recollection. The night grew darker and darker; the stars seemed to sink deeper in the sky, and driving clouds occasionally hid them from his sight. He had never felt so lonely and dismal. He was, moreover, approaching the very place where many of the scenes of the ghost stories had been laid. In the centre of the road stood an enormous tulip-tree, which towered like a giant above all the other trees of the neighborhood, and formed a kind of landmark. Its limbs were gnarled and fantastic, large enough to form trunks for ordinary trees, twisting down almost to the earth, and rising again into the air. It was connected with the tragical story of the unfortunate André, who had been taken prisoner hard by; and was universally known by the name of Major André’s tree. The common people regarded it with a mixture of respect and superstition, partly out of sympathy for the fate of its ill-starred namesake, and partly from the tales of strange sights, and doleful lamentations, told concerning it.
+
+As Ichabod approached this fearful tree, he began to whistle; he thought his whistle was answered; it was but a blast sweeping sharply through the dry branches. As he approached a little nearer, he thought he saw something white, hanging in the midst of the tree: he paused and ceased whistling but, on looking more narrowly, perceived that it was a place where the tree had been scathed by lightning, and the white wood laid bare. Suddenly he heard a groan—his teeth chattered, and his knees smote against the saddle: it was but the rubbing of one huge bough upon another, as they were swayed about by the breeze. He passed the tree in safety, but new perils lay before him.
+
+About two hundred yards from the tree, a small brook crossed the road, and ran into a marshy and thickly-wooded glen, known by the name of Wiley’s Swamp. A few rough logs, laid side by side, served for a bridge over this stream. On that side of the road where the brook entered the wood, a group of oaks and chestnuts, matted thick with wild grape-vines, threw a cavernous gloom over it. To pass this bridge was the severest trial. It was at this identical spot that the unfortunate André was captured, and under the covert of those chestnuts and vines were the sturdy yeomen concealed who surprised him. This has ever since been considered a haunted stream, and fearful are the feelings of the schoolboy who has to pass it alone after dark.
+
+As he approached the stream, his heart began to thump; he summoned up, however, all his resolution, gave his horse half a score of kicks in the ribs, and attempted to dash briskly across the bridge; but instead of starting forward, the perverse old animal made a lateral movement, and ran broadside against the fence. Ichabod, whose fears increased with the delay, jerked the reins on the other side, and kicked lustily with the contrary foot: it was all in vain; his steed started, it is true, but it was only to plunge to the opposite side of the road into a thicket of brambles and alder bushes. The schoolmaster now bestowed both whip and heel upon the starveling ribs of old Gunpowder, who dashed forward, snuffling and snorting, but came to a stand just by the bridge, with a suddenness that had nearly sent his rider sprawling over his head. Just at this moment a plashy tramp by the side of the bridge caught the sensitive ear of Ichabod. In the dark shadow of the grove, on the margin of the brook, he beheld something huge, misshapen and towering. It stirred not, but seemed gathered up in the gloom, like some gigantic monster ready to spring upon the traveller.
+
+The hair of the affrighted pedagogue rose upon his head with terror. What was to be done? To turn and fly was now too late; and besides, what chance was there of escaping ghost or goblin, if such it was, which could ride upon the wings of the wind? Summoning up, therefore, a show of courage, he demanded in stammering accents, “Who are you?” He received no reply. He repeated his demand in a still more agitated voice. Still there was no answer. Once more he cudgelled the sides of the inflexible Gunpowder, and, shutting his eyes, broke forth with involuntary fervor into a psalm tune. Just then the shadowy object of alarm put itself in motion, and with a scramble and a bound stood at once in the middle of the road. Though the night was dark and dismal, yet the form of the unknown might now in some degree be ascertained. He appeared to be a horseman of large dimensions, and mounted on a black horse of powerful frame. He made no offer of molestation or sociability, but kept aloof on one side of the road, jogging along on the blind side of old Gunpowder, who had now got over his fright and waywardness.
+
+Ichabod, who had no relish for this strange midnight companion, and bethought himself of the adventure of Brom Bones with the Galloping Hessian, now quickened his steed in hopes of leaving him behind. The stranger, however, quickened his horse to an equal pace. Ichabod pulled up, and fell into a walk, thinking to lag behind,—the other did the same. His heart began to sink within him; he endeavored to resume his psalm tune, but his parched tongue clove to the roof of his mouth, and he could not utter a stave. There was something in the moody and dogged silence of this pertinacious companion that was mysterious and appalling. It was soon fearfully accounted for. On mounting a rising ground, which brought the figure of his fellow-traveller in relief against the sky, gigantic in height, and muffled in a cloak, Ichabod was horror-struck on perceiving that he was headless!—but his horror was still more increased on observing that the head, which should have rested on his shoulders, was carried before him on the pommel of his saddle! His terror rose to desperation; he rained a shower of kicks and blows upon Gunpowder, hoping by a sudden movement to give his companion the slip; but the spectre started full jump with him. Away, then, they dashed through thick and thin; stones flying and sparks flashing at every bound. Ichabod’s flimsy garments fluttered in the air, as he stretched his long lank body away over his horse’s head, in the eagerness of his flight.
+
+They had now reached the road which turns off to Sleepy Hollow; but Gunpowder, who seemed possessed with a demon, instead of keeping up it, made an opposite turn, and plunged headlong downhill to the left. This road leads through a sandy hollow shaded by trees for about a quarter of a mile, where it crosses the bridge famous in goblin story; and just beyond swells the green knoll on which stands the whitewashed church.
+
+As yet the panic of the steed had given his unskilful rider an apparent advantage in the chase, but just as he had got half way through the hollow, the girths of the saddle gave way, and he felt it slipping from under him. He seized it by the pommel, and endeavored to hold it firm, but in vain; and had just time to save himself by clasping old Gunpowder round the neck, when the saddle fell to the earth, and he heard it trampled under foot by his pursuer. For a moment the terror of Hans Van Ripper’s wrath passed across his mind,—for it was his Sunday saddle; but this was no time for petty fears; the goblin was hard on his haunches; and (unskilful rider that he was!) he had much ado to maintain his seat; sometimes slipping on one side, sometimes on another, and sometimes jolted on the high ridge of his horse’s backbone, with a violence that he verily feared would cleave him asunder.
+
+An opening in the trees now cheered him with the hopes that the church bridge was at hand. The wavering reflection of a silver star in the bosom of the brook told him that he was not mistaken. He saw the walls of the church dimly glaring under the trees beyond. He recollected the place where Brom Bones’s ghostly competitor had disappeared. “If I can but reach that bridge,” thought Ichabod, “I am safe.” Just then he heard the black steed panting and blowing close behind him; he even fancied that he felt his hot breath. Another convulsive kick in the ribs, and old Gunpowder sprang upon the bridge; he thundered over the resounding planks; he gained the opposite side; and now Ichabod cast a look behind to see if his pursuer should vanish, according to rule, in a flash of fire and brimstone. Just then he saw the goblin rising in his stirrups, and in the very act of hurling his head at him. Ichabod endeavored to dodge the horrible missile, but too late. It encountered his cranium with a tremendous crash,—he was tumbled headlong into the dust, and Gunpowder, the black steed, and the goblin rider, passed by like a whirlwind.
+
+The next morning the old horse was found without his saddle, and with the bridle under his feet, soberly cropping the grass at his master’s gate. Ichabod did not make his appearance at breakfast; dinner-hour came, but no Ichabod. The boys assembled at the schoolhouse, and strolled idly about the banks of the brook; but no schoolmaster. Hans Van Ripper now began to feel some uneasiness about the fate of poor Ichabod, and his saddle. An inquiry was set on foot, and after diligent investigation they came upon his traces. In one part of the road leading to the church was found the saddle trampled in the dirt; the tracks of horses’ hoofs deeply dented in the road, and evidently at furious speed, were traced to the bridge, beyond which, on the bank of a broad part of the brook, where the water ran deep and black, was found the hat of the unfortunate Ichabod, and close beside it a shattered pumpkin.
+
+The brook was searched, but the body of the schoolmaster was not to be discovered. Hans Van Ripper as executor of his estate, examined the bundle which contained all his worldly effects. They consisted of two shirts and a half; two stocks for the neck; a pair or two of worsted stockings; an old pair of corduroy small-clothes; a rusty razor; a book of psalm tunes full of dog’s-ears; and a broken pitch-pipe. As to the books and furniture of the schoolhouse, they belonged to the community, excepting Cotton Mather’s “History of Witchcraft,” a “New England Almanac,” and a book of dreams and fortune-telling; in which last was a sheet of foolscap much scribbled and blotted in several fruitless attempts to make a copy of verses in honor of the heiress of Van Tassel. These magic books and the poetic scrawl were forthwith consigned to the flames by Hans Van Ripper; who, from that time forward, determined to send his children no more to school, observing that he never knew any good come of this same reading and writing. Whatever money the schoolmaster possessed, and he had received his quarter’s pay but a day or two before, he must have had about his person at the time of his disappearance.
+
+The mysterious event caused much speculation at the church on the following Sunday. Knots of gazers and gossips were collected in the churchyard, at the bridge, and at the spot where the hat and pumpkin had been found. The stories of Brouwer, of Bones, and a whole budget of others were called to mind; and when they had diligently considered them all, and compared them with the symptoms of the present case, they shook their heads, and came to the conclusion that Ichabod had been carried off by the Galloping Hessian. As he was a bachelor, and in nobody’s debt, nobody troubled his head any more about him; the school was removed to a different quarter of the hollow, and another pedagogue reigned in his stead.
+
+It is true, an old farmer, who had been down to New York on a visit several years after, and from whom this account of the ghostly adventure was received, brought home the intelligence that Ichabod Crane was still alive; that he had left the neighborhood partly through fear of the goblin and Hans Van Ripper, and partly in mortification at having been suddenly dismissed by the heiress; that he had changed his quarters to a distant part of the country; had kept school and studied law at the same time; had been admitted to the bar; turned politician; electioneered; written for the newspapers; and finally had been made a justice of the Ten Pound Court. Brom Bones, too, who, shortly after his rival’s disappearance conducted the blooming Katrina in triumph to the altar, was observed to look exceedingly knowing whenever the story of Ichabod was related, and always burst into a hearty laugh at the mention of the pumpkin; which led some to suspect that he knew more about the matter than he chose to tell.
+
+The old country wives, however, who are the best judges of these matters, maintain to this day that Ichabod was spirited away by supernatural means; and it is a favorite story often told about the neighborhood round the winter evening fire. The bridge became more than ever an object of superstitious awe; and that may be the reason why the road has been altered of late years, so as to approach the church by the border of the millpond. The schoolhouse being deserted soon fell to decay, and was reported to be haunted by the ghost of the unfortunate pedagogue and the plowboy, loitering homeward of a still summer evening, has often fancied his voice at a distance, chanting a melancholy psalm tune among the tranquil solitudes of Sleepy Hollow.
+
+## POSTSCRIPT.
+
+## FOUND IN THE HANDWRITING OF MR. KNICKERBOCKER.
+
+The preceding tale is given almost in the precise words in which I heard it related at a Corporation meeting at the ancient city of Manhattoes, at which were present many of its sagest and most illustrious burghers. The narrator was a pleasant, shabby, gentlemanly old fellow, in pepper-and-salt clothes, with a sadly humourous face, and one whom I strongly suspected of being poor—he made such efforts to be entertaining. When his story was concluded, there was much laughter and approbation, particularly from two or three deputy aldermen, who had been asleep the greater part of the time. There was, however, one tall, dry-looking old gentleman, with beetling eyebrows, who maintained a grave and rather severe face throughout, now and then folding his arms, inclining his head, and looking down upon the floor, as if turning a doubt over in his mind. He was one of your wary men, who never laugh but upon good grounds—when they have reason and law on their side. When the mirth of the rest of the company had subsided, and silence was restored, he leaned one arm on the elbow of his chair, and sticking the other akimbo, demanded, with a slight, but exceedingly sage motion of the head, and contraction of the brow, what was the moral of the story, and what it went to prove?
+
+The story-teller, who was just putting a glass of wine to his lips, as a refreshment after his toils, paused for a moment, looked at his inquirer with an air of infinite deference, and, lowering the glass slowly to the table, observed that the story was intended most logically to prove—
+
+“That there is no situation in life but has its advantages and pleasures—provided we will but take a joke as we find it:
+
+“That, therefore, he that runs races with goblin troopers is likely to have rough riding of it.
+
+“Ergo, for a country schoolmaster to be refused the hand of a Dutch heiress is a certain step to high preferment in the state.”
+
+The cautious old gentleman knit his brows tenfold closer after this explanation, being sorely puzzled by the ratiocination of the syllogism, while, methought, the one in pepper-and-salt eyed him with something of a triumphant leer. At length he observed that all this was very well, but still he thought the story a little on the extravagant—there were one or two points on which he had his doubts.
+
+“Faith, sir,” replied the story-teller, “as to that matter, I don’t believe one-half of it myself.” D. K.
+
+THE END.

src/content/blog/yellow-wallpaper/index.md

@@ -0,0 +1,539 @@
+---
+title: The Yellow Wallpaper (1892)
+description: A woman's descent into psychosis.
+publicationDate: 2024-07-05
+---
+
+It is very seldom that mere ordinary people like John and myself secure ancestral halls for the summer.
+
+A colonial mansion, a hereditary estate, I would say a haunted house, and reach the height of romantic felicity—but that would be asking too much of fate!
+
+Still I will proudly declare that there is something queer about it.
+
+Else, why should it be let so cheaply? And why have stood so long untenanted?
+
+John laughs at me, of course, but one expects that in marriage.
+
+John is practical in the extreme. He has no patience with faith, an intense horror of superstition, and he scoffs openly at any talk of things not to be felt and seen and put down in figures.
+
+John is a physician, and perhaps—(I would not say it to a living soul, of course, but this is dead paper and a great relief to my mind)—perhaps that is one reason I do not get well faster.
+
+You see, he does not believe I am sick!
+
+And what can one do?
+
+If a physician of high standing, and one’s own husband, assures friends and relatives that there is really nothing the matter with one but temporary nervous depression—a slight hysterical tendency—what is one to do?
+
+My brother is also a physician, and also of high standing, and he says the same thing.
+
+So I take phosphates or phosphites—whichever it is, and tonics, and journeys, and air, and exercise, and am absolutely forbidden to “work” until I am well again.
+
+Personally, I disagree with their ideas.
+
+Personally, I believe that congenial work, with excitement and change, would do me good.
+
+But what is one to do?
+
+I did write for a while in spite of them; but it does exhaust me a good deal—having to be so sly about it, or else meet with heavy opposition.
+
+I sometimes fancy that in my condition if I had less opposition and more society and stimulus—but John says the very worst thing I can do is to think about my condition, and I confess it always makes me feel bad.
+
+So I will let it alone and talk about the house.
+
+The most beautiful place! It is quite alone, standing well back from the road, quite three miles from the village. It makes me think of English places that you read about, for there are hedges and walls and gates that lock, and lots of separate little houses for the gardeners and people.
+
+There is a delicious garden! I never saw such a garden—large and shady, full of box-bordered paths, and lined with long grape-covered arbors with seats under them.
+
+There were greenhouses, too, but they are all broken now.
+
+There was some legal trouble, I believe, something about the heirs and co-heirs; anyhow, the place has been empty for years.
+
+That spoils my ghostliness, I am afraid; but I don’t care—there is something strange about the house—I can feel it.
+
+I even said so to John one moonlight evening, but he said what I felt was a draught, and shut the window.
+
+I get unreasonably angry with John sometimes. I’m sure I never used to be so sensitive. I think it is due to this nervous condition.
+
+But John says if I feel so I shall neglect proper self-control; so I take pains to control myself,—before him, at least,—and that makes me very tired.
+
+I don’t like our room a bit. I wanted one downstairs that opened on the piazza and had roses all over the window, and such pretty old-fashioned chintz hangings! but John would not hear of it.
+
+He said there was only one window and not room for two beds, and no near room for him if he took another.
+
+He is very careful and loving, and hardly lets me stir without special direction.
+
+I have a schedule prescription for each hour in the day; he takes all care from me, and so I feel basely ungrateful not to value it more.
+
+He said we came here solely on my account, that I was to have perfect rest and all the air I could get. “Your exercise depends on your strength, my dear,” said he, “and your food somewhat on your appetite; but air you can absorb all the time.” So we took the nursery, at the top of the house.
+
+It is a big, airy room, the whole floor nearly, with windows that look all ways, and air and sunshine galore. It was nursery first and then playground and gymnasium, I should judge; for the windows are barred for little children, and there are rings and things in the walls.
+
+The paint and paper look as if a boys’ school had used it. It is stripped off—the paper—in great patches all around the head of my bed, about as far as I can reach, and in a great place on the other side of the room low down. I never saw a worse paper in my life.
+
+One of those sprawling flamboyant patterns committing every artistic sin.
+
+It is dull enough to confuse the eye in following, pronounced enough to constantly irritate, and provoke study, and when you follow the lame, uncertain curves for a little distance they suddenly commit suicide—plunge off at outrageous angles, destroy themselves in unheard-of contradictions.
+
+The color is repellant, almost revolting; a smouldering, unclean yellow, strangely faded by the slow-turning sunlight.
+
+It is a dull yet lurid orange in some places, a sickly sulphur tint in others.
+
+No wonder the children hated it! I should hate it myself if I had to live in this room long.
+
+There comes John, and I must put this away,—he hates to have me write a word.
+
+We have been here two weeks, and I haven’t felt like writing before, since that first day.
+
+I am sitting by the window now, up in this atrocious nursery, and there is nothing to hinder my writing as much as I please, save lack of strength.
+
+John is away all day, and even some nights when his cases are serious.
+
+I am glad my case is not serious!
+
+But these nervous troubles are dreadfully depressing.
+
+John does not know how much I really suffer. He knows there is no reason to suffer, and that satisfies him.
+
+Of course it is only nervousness. It does weigh on me so not to do my duty in any way!
+
+I meant to be such a help to John, such a real rest and comfort, and here I am a comparative burden already!
+
+Nobody would believe what an effort it is to do what little I am able—to dress and entertain, and order things.
+
+It is fortunate Mary is so good with the baby. Such a dear baby!
+
+And yet I cannot be with him, it makes me so nervous.
+
+I suppose John never was nervous in his life. He laughs at me so about this wallpaper!
+
+At first he meant to repaper the room, but afterwards he said that I was letting it get the better of me, and that nothing was worse for a nervous patient than to give way to such fancies.
+
+He said that after the wallpaper was changed it would be the heavy bedstead, and then the barred windows, and then that gate at the head of the stairs, and so on.
+
+“You know the place is doing you good,” he said, “and really, dear, I don’t care to renovate the house just for a three months’ rental.”
+
+“Then do let us go downstairs,” I said, “there are such pretty rooms there.”
+
+Then he took me in his arms and called me a blessed little goose, and said he would go down cellar if I wished, and have it whitewashed into the bargain.
+
+But he is right enough about the beds and windows and things.
+
+It is as airy and comfortable a room as any one need wish, and, of course, I would not be so silly as to make him uncomfortable just for a whim.
+
+I’m really getting quite fond of the big room, all but that horrid paper.
+
+Out of one window I can see the garden, those mysterious deep-shaded arbors, the riotous old-fashioned flowers, and bushes and gnarly trees.
+
+Out of another I get a lovely view of the bay and a little private wharf belonging to the estate. There is a beautiful shaded lane that runs down there from the house. I always fancy I see people walking in these numerous paths and arbors, but John has cautioned me not to give way to fancy in the least. He says that with my imaginative power and habit of story-making a nervous weakness like mine is sure to lead to all manner of excited fancies, and that I ought to use my will and good sense to check the tendency. So I try.
+
+I think sometimes that if I were only well enough to write a little it would relieve the press of ideas and rest me.
+
+But I find I get pretty tired when I try.
+
+It is so discouraging not to have any advice and companionship about my work. When I get really well John says we will ask Cousin Henry and Julia down for a long visit; but he says he would as soon put fire-works in my pillow-case as to let me have those stimulating people about now.
+
+I wish I could get well faster.
+
+But I must not think about that. This paper looks to me as if it knew what a vicious influence it had!
+
+There is a recurrent spot where the pattern lolls like a broken neck and two bulbous eyes stare at you upside-down.
+
+I get positively angry with the impertinence of it and the everlastingness. Up and down and sideways they crawl, and those absurd, unblinking eyes are everywhere. There is one place where two breadths didn’t match, and the eyes go all up and down the line, one a little higher than the other.
+
+I never saw so much expression in an inanimate thing before, and we all know how much expression they have! I used to lie awake as a child and get more entertainment and terror out of blank walls and plain furniture than most children could find in a toy-store.
+
+I remember what a kindly wink the knobs of our big old bureau used to have, and there was one chair that always seemed like a strong friend.
+
+I used to feel that if any of the other things looked too fierce I could always hop into that chair and be safe.
+
+The furniture in this room is no worse than inharmonious, however, for we had to bring it all from downstairs. I suppose when this was used as a playroom they had to take the nursery things out, and no wonder! I never saw such ravages as the children have made here.
+
+The wallpaper, as I said before, is torn off in spots, and it sticketh closer than a brother—they must have had perseverance as well as hatred.
+
+Then the floor is scratched and gouged and splintered, the plaster itself is dug out here and there, and this great heavy bed, which is all we found in the room, looks as if it had been through the wars.
+
+But I don’t mind it a bit—only the paper.
+
+There comes John’s sister. Such a dear girl as she is, and so careful of me! I must not let her find me writing.
+
+She is a perfect, and enthusiastic housekeeper, and hopes for no better profession. I verily believe she thinks it is the writing which made me sick!
+
+But I can write when she is out, and see her a long way off from these windows.
+
+There is one that commands the road, a lovely, shaded, winding road, and one that just looks off over the country. A lovely country, too, full of great elms and velvet meadows.
+
+This wallpaper has a kind of sub-pattern in a different shade, a particularly irritating one, for you can only see it in certain lights, and not clearly then.
+
+But in the places where it isn’t faded, and where the sun is just so, I can see a strange, provoking, formless sort of figure, that seems to sulk about behind that silly and conspicuous front design.
+
+There’s sister on the stairs!
+
+Well, the Fourth of July is over! The people are gone and I am tired out. John thought it might do me good to see a little company, so we just had mother and Nellie and the children down for a week.
+
+Of course I didn’t do a thing. Jennie sees to everything now.
+
+But it tired me all the same.
+
+John says if I don’t pick up faster he shall send me to Weir Mitchell in the fall.
+
+But I don’t want to go there at all. I had a friend who was in his hands once, and she says he is just like John and my brother, only more so!
+
+Besides, it is such an undertaking to go so far.
+
+I don’t feel as if it was worth while to turn my hand over for anything, and I’m getting dreadfully fretful and querulous.
+
+I cry at nothing, and cry most of the time.
+
+Of course I don’t when John is here, or anybody else, but when I am alone.
+
+And I am alone a good deal just now. John is kept in town very often by serious cases, and Jennie is good and lets me alone when I want her to.
+
+So I walk a little in the garden or down that lovely lane, sit on the porch under the roses, and lie down up here a good deal.
+
+I’m getting really fond of the room in spite of the wallpaper. Perhaps because of the wallpaper.
+
+It dwells in my mind so!
+
+I lie here on this great immovable bed—it is nailed down, I believe—and follow that pattern about by the hour. It is as good as gymnastics, I assure you. I start, we’ll say, at the bottom, down in the corner over there where it has not been touched, and I determine for the thousandth time that I will follow that pointless pattern to some sort of a conclusion.
+
+I know a little of the principle of design, and I know this thing was not arranged on any laws of radiation, or alternation, or repetition, or symmetry, or anything else that I ever heard of.
+
+It is repeated, of course, by the breadths, but not otherwise.
+
+Looked at in one way each breadth stands alone, the bloated curves and flourishes—a kind of “debased Romanesque” with delirium tremens—go waddling up and down in isolated columns of fatuity.
+
+But, on the other hand, they connect diagonally, and the sprawling outlines run off in great slanting waves of optic horror, like a lot of wallowing seaweeds in full chase.
+
+The whole thing goes horizontally, too, at least it seems so, and I exhaust myself in trying to distinguish the order of its going in that direction.
+
+They have used a horizontal breadth for a frieze, and that adds wonderfully to the confusion.
+
+There is one end of the room where it is almost intact, and there, when the cross-lights fade and the low sun shines directly upon it, I can almost fancy radiation after all,—the interminable grotesques seem to form around a common centre and rush off in headlong plunges of equal distraction.
+
+It makes me tired to follow it. I will take a nap, I guess.
+
+I don’t know why I should write this.
+
+I don’t want to.
+
+I don’t feel able.
+
+And I know John would think it absurd. But I must say what I feel and think in some way—it is such a relief!
+
+But the effort is getting to be greater than the relief.
+
+Half the time now I am awfully lazy, and lie down ever so much.
+
+John says I musn’t lose my strength, and has me take cod-liver oil and lots of tonics and things, to say nothing of ale and wine and rare meat.
+
+Dear John! He loves me very dearly, and hates to have me sick. I tried to have a real earnest reasonable talk with him the other day, and tell him how I wish he would let me go and make a visit to Cousin Henry and Julia.
+
+But he said I wasn’t able to go, nor able to stand it after I got there; and I did not make out a very good case for myself, for I was crying before I had finished.
+
+It is getting to be a great effort for me to think straight. Just this nervous weakness, I suppose.
+
+And dear John gathered me up in his arms, and just carried me upstairs and laid me on the bed, and sat by me and read to me till it tired my head.
+
+He said I was his darling and his comfort and all he had, and that I must take care of myself for his sake, and keep well.
+
+He says no one but myself can help me out of it, that I must use my will and self-control and not let any silly fancies run away with me.
+
+There’s one comfort, the baby is well and happy, and does not have to occupy this nursery with the horrid wallpaper.
+
+If we had not used it that blessed child would have! What a fortunate escape! Why, I wouldn’t have a child of mine, an impressionable little thing, live in such a room for worlds.
+
+I never thought of it before, but it is lucky that John kept me here after all. I can stand it so much easier than a baby, you see.
+
+Of course I never mention it to them any more,—I am too wise,—but I keep watch of it all the same.
+
+There are things in that paper that nobody knows but me, or ever will.
+
+Behind that outside pattern the dim shapes get clearer every day.
+
+It is always the same shape, only very numerous.
+
+And it is like a woman stooping down and creeping about behind that pattern. I don’t like it a bit. I wonder—I begin to think—I wish John would take me away from here!
+
+It is so hard to talk with John about my case, because he is so wise, and because he loves me so.
+
+But I tried it last night.
+
+It was moonlight. The moon shines in all around, just as the sun does.
+
+I hate to see it sometimes, it creeps so slowly, and always comes in by one window or another.
+
+John was asleep and I hated to waken him, so I kept still and watched the moonlight on that undulating wallpaper till I felt creepy.
+
+The faint figure behind seemed to shake the pattern, just as if she wanted to get out.
+
+I got up softly and went to feel and see if the paper did move, and when I came back John was awake.
+
+“What is it, little girl?” he said. “Don’t go walking about like that—you’ll get cold.”
+
+I thought it was a good time to talk, so I told him that I really was not gaining here, and that I wished he would take me away.
+
+“Why darling!” said he, “our lease will be up in three weeks, and I can’t see how to leave before.
+
+“The repairs are not done at home, and I cannot possibly leave town just now. Of course if you were in any danger I could and would, but you really are better, dear, whether you can see it or not. I am a doctor, dear, and I know. You are gaining flesh and color, your appetite is better. I feel really much easier about you.”
+
+“I don’t weigh a bit more,” said I, “nor as much; and my appetite may be better in the evening, when you are here, but it is worse in the morning when you are away.”
+
+“Bless her little heart!” said he with a big hug; “she shall be as sick as she pleases! But now let’s improve the shining hours by going to sleep, and talk about it in the morning!”
+
+“And you won’t go away?” I asked gloomily.
+
+“Why, how can I, dear? It is only three weeks more and then we will take a nice little trip of a few days while Jennie is getting the house ready. Really, dear, you are better!”
+
+“Better in body perhaps”—I began, and stopped short, for he sat up straight and looked at me with such a stern, reproachful look that I could not say another word.
+
+“My darling,” said he, “I beg of you, for my sake and for our child’s sake, as well as for your own, that you will never for one instant let that idea enter your mind! There is nothing so dangerous, so fascinating, to a temperament like yours. It is a false and foolish fancy. Can you not trust me as a physician when I tell you so?”
+
+So of course I said no more on that score, and we went to sleep before long. He thought I was asleep first, but I wasn’t,—I lay there for hours trying to decide whether that front pattern and the back pattern really did move together or separately.
+
+On a pattern like this, by daylight, there is a lack of sequence, a defiance of law, that is a constant irritant to a normal mind.
+
+The color is hideous enough, and unreliable enough, and infuriating enough, but the pattern is torturing.
+
+You think you have mastered it, but just as you get well under way in following, it turns a back somersault and there you are. It slaps you in the face, knocks you down, and tramples upon you. It is like a bad dream.
+
+The outside pattern is a florid arabesque, reminding one of a fungus. If you can imagine a toadstool in joints, an interminable string of toadstools, budding and sprouting in endless convolutions,—why, that is something like it.
+
+That is, sometimes!
+
+There is one marked peculiarity about this paper, a thing nobody seems to notice but myself, and that is that it changes as the light changes.
+
+When the sun shoots in through the east window—I always watch for that first long, straight ray—it changes so quickly that I never can quite believe it.
+
+That is why I watch it always.
+
+By moonlight—the moon shines in all night when there is a moon—I wouldn’t know it was the same paper.
+
+At night in any kind of light, in twilight, candlelight, lamplight, and worst of all by moonlight, it becomes bars! The outside pattern I mean, and the woman behind it is as plain as can be.
+
+I didn’t realize for a long time what the thing was that showed behind,—that dim sub-pattern,—but now I am quite sure it is a woman.
+
+By daylight she is subdued, quiet. I fancy it is the pattern that keeps her so still. It is so puzzling. It keeps me quiet by the hour.
+
+I lie down ever so much now. John says it is good for me, and to sleep all I can.
+
+Indeed, he started the habit by making me lie down for an hour after each meal.
+
+It is a very bad habit, I am convinced, for, you see, I don’t sleep.
+
+And that cultivates deceit, for I don’t tell them I’m awake,—oh, no!
+
+The fact is, I am getting a little afraid of John.
+
+He seems very queer sometimes, and even Jennie has an inexplicable look.
+
+It strikes me occasionally, just as a scientific hypothesis, that perhaps it is the paper!
+
+I have watched John when he did not know I was looking, and come into the room suddenly on the most innocent excuses, and I’ve caught him several times looking at the paper! And Jennie too. I caught Jennie with her hand on it once.
+
+She didn’t know I was in the room, and when I asked her in a quiet, a very quiet voice, with the most restrained manner possible, what she was doing with the paper she turned around as if she had been caught stealing, and looked quite angry—asked me why I should frighten her so!
+
+Then she said that the paper stained everything it touched, that she had found yellow smooches on all my clothes and John’s, and she wished we would be more careful!
+
+Did not that sound innocent? But I know she was studying that pattern, and I am determined that nobody shall find it out but myself!
+
+Life is very much more exciting now than it used to be. You see I have something more to expect, to look forward to, to watch. I really do eat better, and am more quiet than I was.
+
+John is so pleased to see me improve! He laughed a little the other day, and said I seemed to be flourishing in spite of my wallpaper.
+
+I turned it off with a laugh. I had no intention of telling him it was because of the wallpaper—he would make fun of me. He might even want to take me away.
+
+I don’t want to leave now until I have found it out. There is a week more, and I think that will be enough.
+
+I’m feeling ever so much better! I don’t sleep much at night, for it is so interesting to watch developments; but I sleep a good deal in the daytime.
+
+In the daytime it is tiresome and perplexing.
+
+There are always new shoots on the fungus, and new shades of yellow all over it. I cannot keep count of them, though I have tried conscientiously.
+
+It is the strangest yellow, that wallpaper! It makes me think of all the yellow things I ever saw—not beautiful ones like buttercups, but old foul, bad yellow things.
+
+But there is something else about that paper—the smell! I noticed it the moment we came into the room, but with so much air and sun it was not bad. Now we have had a week of fog and rain, and whether the windows are open or not, the smell is here.
+
+It creeps all over the house.
+
+I find it hovering in the dining-room, skulking in the parlor, hiding in the hall, lying in wait for me on the stairs.
+
+It gets into my hair.
+
+Even when I go to ride, if I turn my head suddenly and surprise it—there is that smell!
+
+Such a peculiar odor, too! I have spent hours in trying to analyze it, to find what it smelled like.
+
+It is not bad—at first, and very gentle, but quite the subtlest, most enduring odor I ever met.
+
+In this damp weather it is awful. I wake up in the night and find it hanging over me.
+
+It used to disturb me at first. I thought seriously of burning the house—to reach the smell.
+
+But now I am used to it. The only thing I can think of that it is like is the color of the paper! A yellow smell.
+
+There is a very funny mark on this wall, low down, near the mopboard. A streak that runs round the room. It goes behind every piece of furniture, except the bed, a long, straight, even smooch, as if it had been rubbed over and over.
+
+I wonder how it was done and who did it, and what they did it for. Round and round and round—round and round and round—it makes me dizzy!
+
+I really have discovered something at last.
+
+Through watching so much at night, when it changes so, I have finally found out.
+
+The front pattern does move—and no wonder! The woman behind shakes it!
+
+Sometimes I think there are a great many women behind, and sometimes only one, and she crawls around fast, and her crawling shakes it all over.
+
+Then in the very bright spots she keeps still, and in the very shady spots she just takes hold of the bars and shakes them hard.
+
+And she is all the time trying to climb through. But nobody could climb through that pattern—it strangles so; I think that is why it has so many heads.
+
+They get through, and then the pattern strangles them off and turns them upside-down, and makes their eyes white!
+
+If those heads were covered or taken off it would not be half so bad.
+
+I think that woman gets out in the daytime!
+
+And I’ll tell you why—privately—I’ve seen her!
+
+I can see her out of every one of my windows!
+
+It is the same woman, I know, for she is always creeping, and most women do not creep by daylight.
+
+I see her on that long shaded lane, creeping up and down. I see her in those dark grape arbors, creeping all around the garden.
+
+I see her on that long road under the trees, creeping along, and when a carriage comes she hides under the blackberry vines.
+
+I don’t blame her a bit. It must be very humiliating to be caught creeping by daylight!
+
+I always lock the door when I creep by daylight. I can’t do it at night, for I know John would suspect something at once.
+
+And John is so queer now, that I don’t want to irritate him. I wish he would take another room! Besides, I don’t want anybody to get that woman out at night but myself.
+
+I often wonder if I could see her out of all the windows at once.
+
+But, turn as fast as I can, I can only see out of one at one time.
+
+And though I always see her she may be able to creep faster than I can turn!
+
+I have watched her sometimes away off in the open country, creeping as fast as a cloud shadow in a high wind.
+
+If only that top pattern could be gotten off from the under one! I mean to try it, little by little.
+
+I have found out another funny thing, but I shan’t tell it this time! It does not do to trust people too much.
+
+There are only two more days to get this paper off, and I believe John is beginning to notice. I don’t like the look in his eyes.
+
+And I heard him ask Jennie a lot of professional questions about me. She had a very good report to give.
+
+She said I slept a good deal in the daytime.
+
+John knows I don’t sleep very well at night, for all I’m so quiet!
+
+He asked me all sorts of questions, too, and pretended to be very loving and kind.
+
+As if I couldn’t see through him!
+
+Still, I don’t wonder he acts so, sleeping under this paper for three months.
+
+It only interests me, but I feel sure John and Jennie are secretly affected by it.
+
+Hurrah! This is the last day, but it is enough. John is to stay in town over night, and won’t be out until this evening.
+
+Jennie wanted to sleep with me—the sly thing! but I told her I should undoubtedly rest better for a night all alone.
+
+That was clever, for really I wasn’t alone a bit! As soon as it was moonlight, and that poor thing began to crawl and shake the pattern, I got up and ran to help her.
+
+I pulled and she shook, I shook and she pulled, and before morning we had peeled off yards of that paper.
+
+A strip about as high as my head and half around the room.
+
+And then when the sun came and that awful pattern began to laugh at me I declared I would finish it to-day!
+
+We go away to-morrow, and they are moving all my furniture down again to leave things as they were before.
+
+Jennie looked at the wall in amazement, but I told her merrily that I did it out of pure spite at the vicious thing.
+
+She laughed and said she wouldn’t mind doing it herself, but I must not get tired.
+
+How she betrayed herself that time!
+
+But I am here, and no person touches this paper but me—not alive!
+
+She tried to get me out of the room—it was too patent! But I said it was so quiet and empty and clean now that I believed I would lie down again and sleep all I could; and not to wake me even for dinner—I would call when I woke.
+
+So now she is gone, and the servants are gone, and the things are gone, and there is nothing left but that great bedstead nailed down, with the canvas mattress we found on it.
+
+We shall sleep downstairs to-night, and take the boat home to-morrow.
+
+I quite enjoy the room, now it is bare again.
+
+How those children did tear about here!
+
+This bedstead is fairly gnawed!
+
+But I must get to work.
+
+I have locked the door and thrown the key down into the front path.
+
+I don’t want to go out, and I don’t want to have anybody come in, till John comes.
+
+I want to astonish him.
+
+I’ve got a rope up here that even Jennie did not find. If that woman does get out, and tries to get away, I can tie her!
+
+But I forgot I could not reach far without anything to stand on!
+
+This bed will not move!
+
+I tried to lift and push it until I was lame, and then I got so angry I bit off a little piece at one corner—but it hurt my teeth.
+
+Then I peeled off all the paper I could reach standing on the floor. It sticks horribly and the pattern just enjoys it! All those strangled heads and bulbous eyes and waddling fungus growths just shriek with derision!
+
+I am getting angry enough to do something desperate. To jump out of the window would be admirable exercise, but the bars are too strong even to try.
+
+Besides I wouldn’t do it. Of course not. I know well enough that a step like that is improper and might be misconstrued.
+
+I don’t like to look out of the windows even—there are so many of those creeping women, and they creep so fast.
+
+I wonder if they all come out of that wallpaper as I did?
+
+But I am securely fastened now by my well-hidden rope—you don’t get me out in the road there!
+
+I suppose I shall have to get back behind the pattern when it comes night, and that is hard!
+
+It is so pleasant to be out in this great room and creep around as I please!
+
+I don’t want to go outside. I won’t, even if Jennie asks me to.
+
+For outside you have to creep on the ground, and everything is green instead of yellow.
+
+But here I can creep smoothly on the floor, and my shoulder just fits in that long smooch around the wall, so I cannot lose my way.
+
+Why, there’s John at the door!
+
+It is no use, young man, you can’t open it!
+
+How he does call and pound!
+
+Now he’s crying for an axe.
+
+It would be a shame to break down that beautiful door!
+
+“John dear!” said I in the gentlest voice, “the key is down by the front steps, under a plantain leaf!”
+
+That silenced him for a few moments.
+
+Then he said—very quietly indeed, “Open the door, my darling!”
+
+“I can’t,” said I. “The key is down by the front door under a plantain leaf!”
+
+And then I said it again, several times, very gently and slowly, and said it so often that he had to go and see, and he got it, of course, and came in. He stopped short by the door.
+
+“What is the matter?” he cried. “For God’s sake, what are you doing!”
+
+I kept on creeping just the same, but I looked at him over my shoulder.
+
+“I’ve got out at last,” said I, “in spite of you and Jane! And I’ve pulled off most of the paper, so you can’t put me back!”
+
+Now why should that man have fainted? But he did, and right across my path by the wall, so that I had to creep over him every time!

src/content/config.ts

@@ -0,0 +1,20 @@
+import { defineCollection, z } from "astro:content";
+
+const blog = defineCollection({
+  type: "content",
+  schema: ({ image }) =>
+    z.object({
+      title: z.string(),
+      description: z.string(),
+      publicationDate: z.coerce.date(),
+      image: image()
+        .refine((img) => img.width >= 1200, {
+          message: "Image should be 1200px × 630px.",
+        })
+        .optional(),
+      imageAlt: z.string().optional(),
+      tags: z.array(z.string()).optional(),
+    }),
+});
+
+export const collections = { blog };

src/env.d.ts

@@ -0,0 +1,11 @@
+/// <reference path="../.astro/types.d.ts" />
+/// <reference types="astro/client" />
+
+interface Window {
+  theme: {
+    setTheme: (theme: "auto" | "dark" | "light") => void;
+    getTheme: () => "auto" | "dark" | "light";
+    getSystemTheme: () => "light" | "dark";
+    getDefaultTheme: () => "auto" | "dark" | "light";
+  };
+}

src/icons/adobe.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="m13.966 22.624l-1.69-4.281H8.122l3.892-9.144l5.662 13.425zM8.884 1.376H0v21.248zm15.116 0h-8.884L24 22.624Z" />
+</svg>

src/icons/aliexpress.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M5.166 9.096a.02.02 0 0 0-.022.021c0 .396-.32.717-.713.717a.02.02 0 0 0-.021.022c0 .012.01.021.021.021c.394 0 .713.322.713.718q.002.02.022.021c.011 0 .021-.01.021-.021A.717.717 0 0 1 5.9 9.88a.021.021 0 0 0 0-.043a.716.716 0 0 1-.713-.718v-.002a.02.02 0 0 0-.006-.015a.02.02 0 0 0-.015-.006m-3.693.526L0 13.462h.48l.355-.922h1.782l.354.922h.481L1.98 9.622zm2.264.002v3.838h.491V9.624zm2.375 0v3.838h2.413v-.502H6.613v-1.19H8.19v-.477H6.613v-1.166h1.773v-.502zm-4.386.592l.698 1.82H1.028zm14.689.402a1.47 1.47 0 0 0-.966.366V10.7h-.491v2.763h.49c.002-.477 0-.955.002-1.433a.97.97 0 0 1 .965-.918zm4.18.007q-.079 0-.158.01c-.315.031-.606.175-.753.377a.7.7 0 0 0-.14.465c.007.2.066.357.233.496c.184.147.42.2.657.259c.311.067.426.095.546.186c.08.07.133.127.136.27c0 .25-.221.372-.42.41a.89.89 0 0 1-.894-.344l-.371.288c.33.382.777.505 1.09.5c.54-.01.891-.217 1.029-.534c.066-.153.063-.309.063-.38a.68.68 0 0 0-.267-.545c-.228-.177-.583-.228-.636-.242c-.437-.078-.658-.196-.697-.341c-.043-.192.102-.35.297-.411a.76.76 0 0 1 .857.277l.367-.247a1.17 1.17 0 0 0-.939-.494m2.387 0q-.079 0-.157.01c-.316.031-.607.175-.753.377a.7.7 0 0 0-.14.465c.006.2.065.357.233.496c.183.147.42.2.657.259c.31.067.426.095.545.186c.081.07.134.127.136.27c.001.25-.221.372-.42.41a.89.89 0 0 1-.894-.344l-.371.288c.33.382.777.505 1.09.5c.541-.01.891-.217 1.03-.534c.065-.153.062-.309.062-.38a.68.68 0 0 0-.267-.545c-.227-.177-.583-.228-.636-.242c-.437-.078-.658-.196-.696-.341c-.043-.192.101-.35.297-.411a.76.76 0 0 1 .857.277l.367-.247a1.17 1.17 0 0 0-.94-.494m-9.84.002a1.46 1.46 0 0 0-1.42 1.117a1.3 1.3 0 0 0-.041.327v2.833h.491v-1.813c.17.18.487.42.96.454a1.45 1.45 0 0 0 1.208-.627a1.457 1.457 0 0 0-1.199-2.292zm4.804 0a1.448 1.448 0 0 0-1.288 2.08c.255.53.811.87 1.412.833a1.45 1.45 0 0 0 1.012-.51l-.363-.291a.97.97 0 0 1-1.106.273a1.01 1.01 0 0 1-.602-.69h2.239l.002-.427a1.295 1.295 0 0 0-1.306-1.268m-9.2.08l1.062 1.377l-1.062 1.378h.581l.779-1.01l.778 1.01h.581l-1.062-1.378l1.062-1.378h-.581l-.778 1.01l-.779-1.01zm-3.825.015v2.74h.49v-2.74zm8.233.37a.96.96 0 0 1 .95.993a.963.963 0 0 1-.863.998a.96.96 0 0 1-1.034-.739c-.074-.382 0-.746.307-1.019a.96.96 0 0 1 .64-.233m4.79.015a.823.823 0 0 1 .819.755h-1.76a.964.964 0 0 1 .94-.755z" />
+</svg>

src/icons/amazon.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M21.997 18.23c0 .727-.405 2.127-1.315 2.896c-.182.14-.364.061-.284-.143c.265-.648.871-2.147.587-2.492c-.201-.262-1.031-.242-1.739-.182c-.323.041-.607.06-.827.105c-.204.016-.245-.163-.041-.303a3.1 3.1 0 0 1 .87-.428c1.15-.344 2.479-.137 2.67.083c.036.042.079.16.079.463m-1.922 1.294a7 7 0 0 1-.829.55c-2.122 1.275-4.871 1.943-7.258 1.943c-3.843 0-7.28-1.417-9.888-3.788c-.224-.182-.039-.446.223-.303c2.81 1.64 6.288 2.632 9.888 2.632c2.266 0 4.708-.424 7.035-1.336c.163-.061.345-.144.504-.202c.367-.165.69.242.325.504m-6.17-11.03c0-1.041.042-1.654-.303-2.18c-.306-.433-.833-.693-1.569-.652c-.798.044-1.655.567-1.873 1.526c-.043.22-.171.436-.437.483l-2.435-.31c-.174-.04-.439-.173-.352-.521C7.459 4.088 9.81 3.129 12.034 3h.522c1.22 0 2.788.349 3.791 1.264c1.217 1.136 1.087 2.662 1.087 4.32v3.927c0 1.178.478 1.7.958 2.314c.13.219.175.477-.044.655a78 78 0 0 1-1.917 1.654c-.175.133-.489.147-.61.045c-.77-.645-.958-1.003-1.435-1.658c-.83.871-1.527 1.352-2.356 1.613a7 7 0 0 1-1.784.216c-2.09 0-3.745-1.303-3.745-3.88c0-2.049 1.09-3.442 2.7-4.101c1.61-.66 3.95-.87 4.704-.874m-.477 5.192c.52-.872.477-1.586.477-3.185c-.652 0-1.306.045-1.871.178c-1.045.303-1.875.96-1.875 2.355c0 1.09.568 1.832 1.526 1.832q.198 0 .348-.045c.67-.186 1.088-.522 1.395-1.135" />
+</svg>

src/icons/app-store.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M12 2c5.523 0 10 4.477 10 10s-4.477 10-10 10S2 17.523 2 12S6.477 2 12 2M8.823 15.343q-.591-.716-1.479-.509l-.15.041l-.59 1.016a.823.823 0 0 0 1.366.916l.062-.093zM13.21 8.66c-.488.404-.98 1.597-.29 2.787l3.04 5.266a.824.824 0 0 0 1.476-.722l-.049-.1l-.802-1.392h1.19a.82.82 0 0 0 .822-.823a.82.82 0 0 0-.72-.816l-.103-.006h-2.14L13.44 9.057zm.278-3.044a.825.825 0 0 0-1.063.21l-.062.092l-.367.633l-.359-.633a.824.824 0 0 0-1.476.722l.049.1l.838 1.457l-2.685 4.653H6.266a.82.82 0 0 0-.822.822c0 .421.312.766.719.817l.103.006h7.48c.34-.64-.06-1.549-.81-1.638l-.121-.007h-2.553l3.528-6.11a.823.823 0 0 0-.302-1.124" />
+</svg>

src/icons/apple-arcade.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M.198 18.24a.97.97 0 0 1-.194-.571v-.955s0-.571.563-.313c0 0 6.919 3.135 8.033 3.626a7.8 7.8 0 0 0 3.408.729a8.2 8.2 0 0 0 3.396-.729l8.037-3.626c.559-.258.559.313.559.313v.955a1.04 1.04 0 0 1-.198.575c-.19.258-.515.539-1.411.959c-.713.337-6.23 2.818-6.995 3.17a8 8 0 0 1-3.4.729a8.34 8.34 0 0 1-3.82-.927c-1.435-.65-5.849-2.631-6.567-2.972c-.9-.428-1.153-.654-1.411-.963m1.411-5.973l6.987-3.17a8 8 0 0 1 2.164-.634v5.707c0 .396.571.697 1.236.697s1.141-.313 1.141-.697V8.479c.778.105 1.54.313 2.263.618l6.987 3.17c.579.273 1.609.761 1.609 1.538s-1.011 1.236-1.609 1.53l-6.987 3.17a8.2 8.2 0 0 1-3.396.729a7.8 7.8 0 0 1-3.408-.729l-6.987-3.17C1.011 15.042 0 14.574 0 13.801s1.03-1.264 1.609-1.534m1.807 2.247c.77.396 1.683.396 2.453 0c.682-.396.686-1.026 0-1.419a2.7 2.7 0 0 0-2.453 0c-.68.392-.666 1.02 0 1.419M12 7.595a3.35 3.35 0 1 1 3.349-3.351v.003c0 1.849-1.5 3.348-3.349 3.348" />
+</svg>

src/icons/apple-music.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M23.994 6.124a9.2 9.2 0 0 0-.24-2.19c-.317-1.31-1.062-2.31-2.18-3.043a5 5 0 0 0-1.877-.726a10.5 10.5 0 0 0-1.564-.15c-.04-.003-.083-.01-.124-.013H5.986q-.227.014-.455.026c-.747.043-1.49.123-2.193.4c-1.336.53-2.3 1.452-2.865 2.78c-.192.448-.292.925-.363 1.408a11 11 0 0 0-.1 1.18c0 .032-.007.062-.01.093v12.223l.027.424c.05.815.154 1.624.497 2.373c.65 1.42 1.738 2.353 3.234 2.801c.42.127.856.187 1.293.228c.555.053 1.11.06 1.667.06h11.03a13 13 0 0 0 1.57-.1c.822-.106 1.596-.35 2.295-.81a5.05 5.05 0 0 0 1.88-2.207c.186-.42.293-.87.37-1.324c.113-.675.138-1.358.137-2.04c-.002-3.8 0-7.595-.003-11.393zm-6.423 3.99v5.712c0 .417-.058.827-.244 1.206c-.29.59-.76.962-1.388 1.14q-.524.15-1.07.173c-.95.045-1.773-.6-1.943-1.536a1.88 1.88 0 0 1 1.038-2.022c.323-.16.67-.25 1.018-.324c.378-.082.758-.153 1.134-.24c.274-.063.457-.23.51-.516a1 1 0 0 0 .02-.193q0-2.723-.002-5.443a.7.7 0 0 0-.026-.185c-.04-.15-.15-.243-.304-.234c-.16.01-.318.035-.475.066q-1.14.226-2.28.456l-2.325.47l-1.374.278l-.048.013c-.277.077-.377.203-.39.49q-.002.063 0 .13c-.002 2.602 0 5.204-.003 7.805c0 .42-.047.836-.215 1.227c-.278.64-.77 1.04-1.434 1.233q-.526.152-1.075.172c-.96.036-1.755-.6-1.92-1.544c-.14-.812.23-1.685 1.154-2.075c.357-.15.73-.232 1.108-.31c.287-.06.575-.116.86-.177q.574-.126.6-.714v-.15l.002-8.882c0-.123.013-.25.042-.37c.07-.285.273-.448.546-.518c.255-.066.515-.112.774-.165q1.1-.224 2.2-.444l2.27-.46l2.01-.403c.22-.043.442-.088.663-.106c.31-.025.523.17.554.482q.012.11.012.223q.003 2.866 0 5.732z" />
+</svg>

src/icons/apple.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M18.71 19.5c-.83 1.24-1.71 2.45-3.05 2.47c-1.34.03-1.77-.79-3.29-.79c-1.53 0-2 .77-3.27.82c-1.31.05-2.3-1.32-3.14-2.53C4.25 17 2.94 12.45 4.7 9.39c.87-1.52 2.43-2.48 4.12-2.51c1.28-.02 2.5.87 3.29.87c.78 0 2.26-1.07 3.81-.91c.65.03 2.47.26 3.64 1.98c-.09.06-2.17 1.28-2.15 3.81c.03 3.02 2.65 4.03 2.68 4.04c-.03.07-.42 1.44-1.38 2.83M13 3.5c.73-.83 1.94-1.46 2.94-1.5c.13 1.17-.34 2.35-1.04 3.19c-.69.85-1.83 1.51-2.95 1.42c-.15-1.15.41-2.35 1.05-3.11" />
+</svg>

src/icons/arch.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M12 2c-.89 2.18-1.43 3.61-2.42 5.73c.61.64 1.35 1.39 2.56 2.24c-1.3-.54-2.19-1.07-2.85-1.63C8 11 6.03 14.75 2 22c3.17-1.83 5.63-2.96 7.92-3.39c-.1-.42-.16-.88-.15-1.36v-.1c.05-2.03 1.11-3.59 2.36-3.48c1.25.1 2.22 1.83 2.17 3.87c-.01.38-.05.75-.12 1.09c2.26.44 4.69 1.56 7.82 3.37c-.62-1.14-1.17-2.16-1.69-3.13c-.81-.64-1.7-1.48-3.46-2.37c1.21.3 2.08.66 2.76 1.07C14.26 7.62 13.83 6.3 12 2" />
+</svg>

src/icons/astro.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M8.358 20.162c-1.186-1.07-1.532-3.316-1.038-4.944c.856 1.026 2.043 1.352 3.272 1.535c1.897.283 3.76.177 5.522-.678c.202-.098.388-.229.608-.36c.166.473.209.95.151 1.437c-.14 1.185-.738 2.1-1.688 2.794c-.38.277-.782.525-1.175.787c-1.205.804-1.531 1.747-1.078 3.119l.044.148a3.16 3.16 0 0 1-1.407-1.188a3.3 3.3 0 0 1-.544-1.815c-.004-.32-.004-.642-.048-.958c-.106-.769-.472-1.113-1.161-1.133c-.707-.02-1.267.411-1.415 1.09c-.012.053-.028.104-.045.165zm-5.961-4.445s3.24-1.575 6.49-1.575l2.451-7.565c.092-.366.36-.614.662-.614s.57.248.662.614l2.45 7.565c3.85 0 6.491 1.575 6.491 1.575L16.088.727C15.93.285 15.663 0 15.303 0H8.697c-.36 0-.615.285-.784.727z" />
+</svg>

src/icons/bandcamp.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="m0 18.75l7.437-13.5H24l-7.438 13.5z" />
+</svg>

src/icons/bitbucket.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M2.65 3C2.3 3 2 3.3 2 3.65v.12l2.73 16.5c.07.42.43.73.85.73h13.05c.31 0 .59-.22.64-.54L22 3.77a.643.643 0 0 0-.54-.73c-.03-.01-.07-.01-.11-.01zM14.1 14.95H9.94L8.81 9.07h6.3z" />
+</svg>

src/icons/bitcoin.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M14.24 10.56c-.31 1.24-2.24.61-2.84.44l.55-2.18c.62.18 2.61.44 2.29 1.74m-3.11 1.56l-.6 2.41c.74.19 3.03.92 3.37-.44c.36-1.42-2.03-1.79-2.77-1.97m10.57 2.3c-1.34 5.36-6.76 8.62-12.12 7.28S.963 14.94 2.3 9.58A9.996 9.996 0 0 1 14.42 2.3c5.35 1.34 8.61 6.76 7.28 12.12m-7.49-6.37l.45-1.8l-1.1-.25l-.44 1.73c-.29-.07-.58-.14-.88-.2l.44-1.77l-1.09-.26l-.45 1.79c-.24-.06-.48-.11-.7-.17l-1.51-.38l-.3 1.17s.82.19.8.2c.45.11.53.39.51.64l-1.23 4.93c-.05.14-.21.32-.5.27c.01.01-.8-.2-.8-.2L6.87 15l1.42.36c.27.07.53.14.79.2l-.46 1.82l1.1.28l.45-1.81c.3.08.59.15.87.23l-.45 1.79l1.1.28l.46-1.82c1.85.35 3.27.21 3.85-1.48c.5-1.35 0-2.15-1-2.66c.72-.19 1.26-.64 1.41-1.62c.2-1.33-.82-2.04-2.2-2.52" />
+</svg>

src/icons/bluesky.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M12 11.388c-.906-1.761-3.372-5.044-5.665-6.662c-2.197-1.55-3.034-1.283-3.583-1.033C2.116 3.978 2 4.955 2 5.528c0 .575.315 4.709.52 5.4c.68 2.28 3.094 3.05 5.32 2.803c-3.26.483-6.157 1.67-2.36 5.898c4.178 4.325 5.726-.927 6.52-3.59c.794 2.663 1.708 7.726 6.444 3.59c3.556-3.59.977-5.415-2.283-5.898c2.225.247 4.64-.523 5.319-2.803c.205-.69.52-4.825.52-5.399c0-.575-.116-1.55-.752-1.838c-.549-.248-1.386-.517-3.583 1.033c-2.293 1.621-4.76 4.904-5.665 6.664" />
+</svg>

src/icons/buymeacoffee.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="m20.216 6.415l-.132-.666c-.119-.598-.388-1.163-1.001-1.379c-.197-.069-.42-.098-.57-.241c-.152-.143-.196-.366-.231-.572c-.065-.378-.125-.756-.192-1.133c-.057-.325-.102-.69-.25-.987c-.195-.4-.597-.634-.996-.788a6 6 0 0 0-.626-.194c-1-.263-2.05-.36-3.077-.416a26 26 0 0 0-3.7.062c-.915.083-1.88.184-2.75.5c-.318.116-.646.256-.888.501c-.297.302-.393.77-.177 1.146c.154.267.415.456.692.58c.36.162.737.284 1.123.366c1.075.238 2.189.331 3.287.37q1.829.074 3.65-.118q.449-.05.896-.119c.352-.054.578-.513.474-.834c-.124-.383-.457-.531-.834-.473c-.466.074-.96.108-1.382.146q-1.767.12-3.536.006a22 22 0 0 1-1.157-.107c-.086-.01-.18-.025-.258-.036q-.364-.055-.724-.13c-.111-.027-.111-.185 0-.212h.005q.416-.09.838-.147h.002c.131-.009.263-.032.394-.048a25 25 0 0 1 3.426-.12q1.011.029 2.017.144l.228.031q.4.06.798.145c.392.085.895.113 1.07.542c.055.137.08.288.111.431l.319 1.484a.237.237 0 0 1-.199.284h-.003l-.112.015a37 37 0 0 1-4.743.295a37 37 0 0 1-4.699-.304c-.14-.017-.293-.042-.417-.06c-.326-.048-.649-.108-.973-.161c-.393-.065-.768-.032-1.123.161c-.29.16-.527.404-.675.701c-.154.316-.199.66-.267 1c-.069.34-.176.707-.135 1.056c.087.753.613 1.365 1.37 1.502a39.7 39.7 0 0 0 11.343.376a.483.483 0 0 1 .535.53l-.071.697l-1.018 9.907c-.041.41-.047.832-.125 1.237c-.122.637-.553 1.028-1.182 1.171q-.868.197-1.756.205c-.656.004-1.31-.025-1.966-.022c-.699.004-1.556-.06-2.095-.58c-.475-.458-.54-1.174-.605-1.793l-.731-7.013l-.322-3.094c-.037-.351-.286-.695-.678-.678c-.336.015-.718.3-.678.679l.228 2.185l.949 9.112c.147 1.344 1.174 2.068 2.446 2.272c.742.12 1.503.144 2.257.156c.966.016 1.942.053 2.892-.122c1.408-.258 2.465-1.198 2.616-2.657l1.024-9.995l.215-2.087a.48.48 0 0 1 .39-.426c.402-.078.787-.212 1.074-.518c.455-.488.546-1.124.385-1.766zm-1.478.772c-.145.137-.363.201-.578.233c-2.416.359-4.866.54-7.308.46c-1.748-.06-3.477-.254-5.207-.498c-.17-.024-.353-.055-.47-.18c-.22-.236-.111-.71-.054-.995c.052-.26.152-.609.463-.646c.484-.057 1.046.148 1.526.22q.865.132 1.737.212c2.48.226 5.002.19 7.472-.14q.675-.09 1.345-.21c.399-.072.84-.206 1.08.206c.166.281.188.657.162.974a.54.54 0 0 1-.169.364zm-6.159 3.9c-.862.37-1.84.788-3.109.788a6 6 0 0 1-1.569-.217l.877 9.004c.065.78.717 1.38 1.5 1.38c0 0 1.243.065 1.658.065c.447 0 1.786-.065 1.786-.065c.783 0 1.434-.6 1.499-1.38l.94-9.95a4 4 0 0 0-1.322-.238c-.826 0-1.491.284-2.26.613" />
+</svg>

src/icons/calendar.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M12 14q-.425 0-.712-.288T11 13t.288-.712T12 12t.713.288T13 13t-.288.713T12 14m-4 0q-.425 0-.712-.288T7 13t.288-.712T8 12t.713.288T9 13t-.288.713T8 14m8 0q-.425 0-.712-.288T15 13t.288-.712T16 12t.713.288T17 13t-.288.713T16 14m-4 4q-.425 0-.712-.288T11 17t.288-.712T12 16t.713.288T13 17t-.288.713T12 18m-4 0q-.425 0-.712-.288T7 17t.288-.712T8 16t.713.288T9 17t-.288.713T8 18m8 0q-.425 0-.712-.288T15 17t.288-.712T16 16t.713.288T17 17t-.288.713T16 18M5 22q-.825 0-1.412-.587T3 20V6q0-.825.588-1.412T5 4h1V2h2v2h8V2h2v2h1q.825 0 1.413.588T21 6v14q0 .825-.587 1.413T19 22zm0-2h14V10H5z" />
+</svg>

src/icons/cashapp.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M23.59 3.475a5.1 5.1 0 0 0-3.05-3.05c-1.31-.42-2.5-.42-4.92-.42H8.36c-2.4 0-3.61 0-4.9.4a5.1 5.1 0 0 0-3.05 3.06C0 4.765 0 5.965 0 8.365v7.27c0 2.41 0 3.6.4 4.9a5.1 5.1 0 0 0 3.05 3.05c1.3.41 2.5.41 4.9.41h7.28c2.41 0 3.61 0 4.9-.4a5.1 5.1 0 0 0 3.06-3.06c.41-1.3.41-2.5.41-4.9v-7.25c0-2.41 0-3.61-.41-4.91m-6.17 4.63l-.93.93a.5.5 0 0 1-.67.01a5 5 0 0 0-3.22-1.18c-.97 0-1.94.32-1.94 1.21c0 .9 1.04 1.2 2.24 1.65c2.1.7 3.84 1.58 3.84 3.64c0 2.24-1.74 3.78-4.58 3.95l-.26 1.2a.49.49 0 0 1-.48.39H9.63l-.09-.01a.5.5 0 0 1-.38-.59l.28-1.27a6.54 6.54 0 0 1-2.88-1.57v-.01a.48.48 0 0 1 0-.68l1-.97a.49.49 0 0 1 .67 0c.91.86 2.13 1.34 3.39 1.32c1.3 0 2.17-.55 2.17-1.42s-.88-1.1-2.54-1.72c-1.76-.63-3.43-1.52-3.43-3.6c0-2.42 2.01-3.6 4.39-3.71l.25-1.23a.48.48 0 0 1 .48-.38h1.78l.1.01c.26.06.43.31.37.57l-.27 1.37c.9.3 1.75.77 2.48 1.39l.02.02c.19.2.19.5 0 .68" />
+</svg>

src/icons/chat.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M12 3c5.5 0 10 3.58 10 8s-4.5 8-10 8c-1.24 0-2.43-.18-3.53-.5C5.55 21 2 21 2 21c2.33-2.33 2.7-3.9 2.75-4.5C3.05 15.07 2 13.13 2 11c0-4.42 4.5-8 10-8" />
+</svg>

src/icons/coursera.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M11.374 23.977c-4.183-.21-8.006-2.626-9.959-6.347c-2.097-3.858-1.871-8.864.732-12.454C4.748 1.338 9.497-.698 14.281.23c4.583.857 8.351 4.494 9.358 8.911c1.122 4.344-.423 9.173-3.925 12.04c-2.289 1.953-5.295 2.956-8.34 2.797zm7.705-8.05a589 589 0 0 0-3.171-1.887c-.903 1.483-2.885 2.248-4.57 1.665c-2.024-.639-3.394-2.987-2.488-5.134c.801-2.009 2.79-2.707 4.357-2.464a4.2 4.2 0 0 1 2.623 1.669c1.077-.631 2.128-1.218 3.173-1.855c-2.03-3.118-6.151-4.294-9.656-2.754c-3.13 1.423-4.89 4.68-4.388 7.919c.54 3.598 3.73 6.486 7.716 6.404a7.66 7.66 0 0 0 6.404-3.563" />
+</svg>

src/icons/debian.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="m18.5 10.57l-.2.37c.26-.78.11-1.63.15-2.37l-.07-.02c-.07-1.85-1.67-3.82-3.09-4.48c-1.23-.57-3.12-.67-3.99-.24c.12-.11.6-.15.45-.23c-1.37.13-1.06.47-2.11.74c-.29.28.86-.22.23.16c-.56.13-.82-.12-1.65.74c.07.12.53-.35.15.12c-.79-.09-2.48 1.8-2.84 2.42l.19.04c-.31.77-.72 1.26-.77 1.72c-.08 1.14-.45 3.21.08 3.85l-.06.53l.23.45l-.12.01c.58 1.83.62.04 1.39 1.94c-.11-.04-.23-.08-.39-.32c-.02.19.24.69.54 1.08l-.12.14c.16.31.32.38.43.49c-.63-.35.57 1.13.7 1.32l.1-.17c-.02.24.17.56.53 1.01l.3-.01c.13.24.58.68.85.7l-.18.24c.69.2.33.29 1.18.59l-.17-.3c.43.37.56.7 1.17.98c.85.3.96.18 1.82.43c-.73 0-1.59 0-2.17-.22c-3.96-1.07-7.56-5.72-7.32-10.5c-.06-.97.1-2.18-.06-2.42c.22-.74.48-1.64 1.01-2.71c-.04-.07.09.21.36-.24c.16-.36.29-.75.5-1.1l.1-.03c.11-.61 1.43-1.55 1.85-2.02v.18c.86-.81 2.4-1.35 3.26-1.73c-.23.25.51-.03 1.04-.06l-.49.28c.63-.16.6.07 1.25-.03c-.23.03-.5.1-.46.16c.72.08.84-.22 1.51 0l-.05-.2c.94.34 1.13.28 2.14.82c.36.01.4-.22.93 0c.1.16-.02.19.64.59c.07-.03-.13-.22-.27-.37c1.3.71 2.75 2.22 3.18 3.84c-.41-.74-.04.39-.18.33c.18.49.33 1 .43 1.53c-.12-.43-.39-1.48-.86-2.15c-.03.43-.6-.3-.29.66c.22.34.05-.35.34.25c0 .29.11.58.18.95c-.1-.02-.22-.41-.3-.31c.1.5.27.72.33.76c-.03.08-.12-.08-.12.24c.04.74.21.43.29.46c-.09.37-.41.79-.25 1.42l-.2-.56c-.05.53.11.63-.13 1.28c.18-.6.16-1.1-.01-.85c.09.82-.65 1.45-.58 1.98l-.21-.29c-.57.83-.01.45-.4 1.06c.14-.23-.07-.08.11-.36c-.12.01-.55.53-.94.83c-1.54 1.23-3.39 1.4-5.15.73h-.01c.01-.04 0-.09-.12-.17c-1.51-1.15-2.4-2.13-2.11-4.41c.25-.17.31-1.12.84-1.45c.32-.71 1.28-1.36 2.31-1.38c1.05-.06 1.94.56 2.39 1.14c-.82-.75-2.14-.98-3.28-.43c-1.15.53-1.84 1.8-1.76 3.07c.06-.07.1-.02.12-.18c-.03 2.47 2.66 4.28 4.6 3.37l.03.05c.78-.22.68-.39 1.19-.75c-.04.09-.34.3-.16.3c.25-.06 1.03-.79 1.42-1.13c.17-.38-.1-.23.15-.69l.3-.15c.17-.48.35-.75.35-1.32" />
+</svg>

src/icons/dev-to.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M7.73 11.93c0 1.72-.02 1.83-.23 2.07c-.19.17-.38.23-.76.23l-.51.01l-.03-2.27l-.02-2.27h.52c.35 0 .6.07.77.21c.24.21.26.25.26 2.02M22 7.5v9c0 1.11-.89 2-2 2H4c-1.11 0-2-.89-2-2v-9c0-1.11.89-2 2-2h16c1.11 0 2 .89 2 2M8.93 11.73c-.03-1.84-.05-1.99-.29-2.39c-.4-.68-.85-.84-2.36-.84H5v7h1.21c1.33 0 1.89-.17 2.29-.71c.41-.53.5-.98.43-3.06m4.19-3.23h-1.48c-1.49 0-1.5 0-1.71.28S9.7 9.21 9.7 12v2.96l.27.27c.25.27.31.27 1.71.27h1.44v-1.19l-1.09-.04l-1.1-.03V12.6l.68-.03l.66-.04v-1.19h-1.39V9.7h2.24zm5.88.06c0-.06-.3-.06-.66-.06l-.68.06l-.59 2.35c-.38 1.48-.62 2.27-.67 2.13c-.08-.27-1.14-4.44-1.14-4.49s-.31-.05-.68-.05h-.69l.41 1.55c.2.87.59 2.28.81 3.15c.34 1.35.46 1.65.75 1.94c.2.22.45.36.61.36c.33 0 .76-.34.9-.73C17.5 14.5 19 8.69 19 8.56" />
+</svg>

src/icons/deviantart.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M6 6h6l2-4h4v4l-3.5 7H18v5h-6l-2 4H6v-4l3.5-7H6z" />
+</svg>

src/icons/discord.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M19.303 5.337A17.3 17.3 0 0 0 14.963 4c-.191.329-.403.775-.552 1.125a16.6 16.6 0 0 0-4.808 0C9.454 4.775 9.23 4.329 9.05 4a17 17 0 0 0-4.342 1.337C1.961 9.391 1.218 13.35 1.59 17.255a17.7 17.7 0 0 0 5.318 2.664a13 13 0 0 0 1.136-1.836c-.627-.234-1.22-.52-1.794-.86c.149-.106.297-.223.435-.34c3.46 1.582 7.207 1.582 10.624 0c.149.117.287.234.435.34c-.573.34-1.167.626-1.793.86a13 13 0 0 0 1.135 1.836a17.6 17.6 0 0 0 5.318-2.664c.457-4.52-.722-8.448-3.1-11.918M8.52 14.846c-1.04 0-1.889-.945-1.889-2.101s.828-2.102 1.89-2.102c1.05 0 1.91.945 1.888 2.102c0 1.156-.838 2.1-1.889 2.1m6.974 0c-1.04 0-1.89-.945-1.89-2.101s.828-2.102 1.89-2.102c1.05 0 1.91.945 1.889 2.102c0 1.156-.828 2.1-1.89 2.1" />
+</svg>

src/icons/ebay.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M6.056 12.132v-4.92h1.2v3.026c.59-.703 1.402-.906 2.202-.906c1.34 0 2.828.904 2.828 2.855c0 .233-.015.457-.06.668c.24-.953 1.274-1.305 2.896-1.344c.51-.018 1.095-.018 1.56-.018v-.135c0-.885-.556-1.244-1.53-1.244c-.72 0-1.245.3-1.305.81h-1.275c.136-1.29 1.5-1.62 2.686-1.62c1.064 0 1.995.27 2.415 1.02l-.436-.84h1.41l2.055 4.125l2.055-4.126H24l-3.72 7.305h-1.346l1.07-2.04l-2.33-4.38c.13.255.2.555.2.93v2.46c0 .346.01.69.04 1.005H16.8a7 7 0 0 1-.046-.765c-.603.734-1.32.96-2.32.96c-1.48 0-2.272-.78-2.272-1.695q.002-.224.037-.405c-.3 1.246-1.36 2.086-2.767 2.086c-.87 0-1.694-.315-2.2-.93c0 .24-.015.494-.04.734h-1.18c.02-.39.04-.855.04-1.245v-1.05h-4.83c.065 1.095.818 1.74 1.853 1.74c.718 0 1.355-.3 1.568-.93h1.24c-.24 1.29-1.61 1.725-2.79 1.725C.95 15.009 0 13.822 0 12.232c0-1.754.982-2.91 3.116-2.91c1.688 0 2.93.886 2.94 2.806v.005zm9.137.183c-1.095.034-1.77.233-1.77.95c0 .465.36.97 1.305.97c1.26 0 1.935-.69 1.935-1.814v-.13c-.45 0-.99.006-1.484.022h.012zm-6.06 1.875c1.11 0 1.876-.806 1.876-2.02s-.768-2.02-1.893-2.02c-1.11 0-1.89.806-1.89 2.02s.765 2.02 1.875 2.02h.03zm-4.35-2.514c-.044-1.125-.854-1.546-1.725-1.546c-.944 0-1.694.474-1.815 1.546z" />
+</svg>

src/icons/emacs.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M12 24C5.448 24 .118 18.617.118 12S5.448 0 12 0s11.882 5.383 11.882 12S18.552 24 12 24M12 .661C5.813.661.779 5.748.779 12S5.813 23.339 12 23.339S23.221 18.253 23.221 12S18.187.661 12 .661M8.03 20.197s.978.069 2.236-.042c.51-.045 2.444-.235 3.891-.552c0 0 1.764-.377 2.707-.725c.987-.364 1.524-.673 1.766-1.11c-.011-.09.074-.408-.381-.599c-1.164-.488-2.514-.4-5.185-.457c-2.962-.102-3.948-.598-4.472-.997c-.503-.405-.25-1.526 1.907-2.513c1.086-.526 5.345-1.496 5.345-1.496c-1.434-.709-4.109-1.955-4.659-2.224c-.482-.236-1.254-.591-1.421-1.021c-.19-.413.448-.768.804-.87c1.147-.331 2.766-.536 4.24-.56c.741-.012.861-.059.861-.059c1.022-.17 1.695-.869 1.414-1.976c-.252-1.13-1.579-1.795-2.84-1.565c-1.188.217-4.05 1.048-4.05 1.048c3.539-.031 4.131.028 4.395.398c.156.218-.071.518-1.015.672c-1.027.168-3.163.37-3.163.37c-2.049.122-3.492.13-3.925 1.046c-.283.599.302 1.129.558 1.46c1.082 1.204 2.646 1.853 3.652 2.331c.379.18 1.49.52 1.49.52c-3.265-.18-5.619.823-7.001 1.977c-1.562 1.445-.871 3.168 2.33 4.228c1.891.626 2.828.921 5.648.667c1.661-.09 1.923-.036 1.939.1c.023.192-1.845.669-2.355.816c-1.298.374-4.699 1.129-4.716 1.133" />
+</svg>

src/icons/email.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M4 20q-.825 0-1.412-.587T2 18V6q0-.825.588-1.412T4 4h16q.825 0 1.413.588T22 6v12q0 .825-.587 1.413T20 20zm8-7l8-5V6l-8 5l-8-5v2z" />
+</svg>

src/icons/etsy.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M8.559 2.445c0-.325.033-.52.59-.52h7.465c1.3 0 2.02 1.11 2.54 3.193l.42 1.666h1.27c.23-4.728.43-6.784.43-6.784s-3.196.36-5.09.36H6.635L1.521.196v1.37l1.725.326c1.21.24 1.5.496 1.6 1.606c0 0 .11 3.27.11 8.64c0 5.385-.09 8.61-.09 8.61c0 .973-.39 1.333-1.59 1.573l-1.722.33V24l5.13-.165h8.55c1.935 0 6.39.165 6.39.165c.105-1.17.75-6.48.855-7.064h-1.2l-1.284 2.91c-1.005 2.28-2.476 2.445-4.11 2.445h-4.906c-1.63 0-2.415-.64-2.415-2.05V12.8s3.62 0 4.79.096c.912.064 1.463.325 1.76 1.598l.39 1.695h1.41l-.09-4.278l.192-4.305h-1.391l-.45 1.89c-.283 1.244-.48 1.47-1.754 1.6c-1.666.17-4.815.14-4.815.14V2.45h-.05z" />
+</svg>

src/icons/facebook.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M12 2.04c-5.5 0-10 4.49-10 10.02c0 5 3.66 9.15 8.44 9.9v-7H7.9v-2.9h2.54V9.85c0-2.51 1.49-3.89 3.78-3.89c1.09 0 2.23.19 2.23.19v2.47h-1.26c-1.24 0-1.63.77-1.63 1.56v1.88h2.78l-.45 2.9h-2.33v7a10 10 0 0 0 8.44-9.9c0-5.53-4.5-10.02-10-10.02" />
+</svg>

src/icons/fedora.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M12 2C6.5 2 2 6.47 2 12v7.73C2 21 3 22 4.27 22H12c5.53 0 10-4.5 10-10S17.5 2 12 2m2.03 4.12c1.68 0 3.26 1.28 3.26 3.06c0 .16 0 .32-.02.51c-.05.47-.48.81-.95.75a.836.836 0 0 1-.7-.98c0-.06.01-.14.01-.28c0-1.01-.82-1.4-1.6-1.4s-1.48.66-1.48 1.4c.01.85 0 1.7 0 2.56l1.45-.02c1.12-.02 1.13 1.68 0 1.67l-1.45.01l-.01 2.39c-.18 1.88-1.77 3.37-3.69 3.37c-2.03 0-3.71-1.66-3.71-3.7A3.8 3.8 0 0 1 9 11.74l1.15-.01v1.67L9 13.41h-.03c-1.16.03-2.15.82-2.16 2.06c0 1.12.91 2.03 2.04 2.03c1.15 0 2.03-.83 2.03-2.03c.02-2.01-.01-4.22 0-6.3c0-.12.01-.21.02-.34c.19-1.54 1.57-2.71 3.13-2.71" />
+</svg>

src/icons/figma.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M15.852 8.981h-4.588V0h4.588c2.476 0 4.49 2.014 4.49 4.49s-2.014 4.491-4.49 4.491M12.735 7.51h3.117c1.665 0 3.019-1.355 3.019-3.019s-1.355-3.019-3.019-3.019h-3.117zm0 1.471H8.148c-2.476 0-4.49-2.014-4.49-4.49S5.672 0 8.148 0h4.588v8.981zm-4.587-7.51c-1.665 0-3.019 1.355-3.019 3.019s1.354 3.02 3.019 3.02h3.117V1.471zm4.587 15.019H8.148c-2.476 0-4.49-2.014-4.49-4.49s2.014-4.49 4.49-4.49h4.588v8.98zM8.148 8.981c-1.665 0-3.019 1.355-3.019 3.019s1.355 3.019 3.019 3.019h3.117V8.981zM8.172 24c-2.489 0-4.515-2.014-4.515-4.49s2.014-4.49 4.49-4.49h4.588v4.441c0 2.503-2.047 4.539-4.563 4.539m-.024-7.51a3.023 3.023 0 0 0-3.019 3.019c0 1.665 1.365 3.019 3.044 3.019c1.705 0 3.093-1.376 3.093-3.068v-2.97zm7.704 0h-.098c-2.476 0-4.49-2.014-4.49-4.49s2.014-4.49 4.49-4.49h.098c2.476 0 4.49 2.014 4.49 4.49s-2.014 4.49-4.49 4.49m-.097-7.509c-1.665 0-3.019 1.355-3.019 3.019s1.355 3.019 3.019 3.019h.098c1.665 0 3.019-1.355 3.019-3.019s-1.355-3.019-3.019-3.019z" />
+</svg>

src/icons/freebsd.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M2.69 2c.85-.05 3.39 1.16 3.44 1.19c-1.29.81-2.39 1.9-3.22 3.19C2.09 4.81 1.34 2.91 2 2.25c.17-.17.4-.25.69-.25m18.15.13c.41-.05.74.01.94.21c1.07 1.08-1.9 5.81-2.4 6.32c-.51.5-1.81.04-2.88-1.03c-1.07-1.08-1.53-2.37-1.03-2.88c.41-.41 3.62-2.45 5.37-2.62M12 2.56c1.29 0 2.53.26 3.66.72c-.49.32-.85.57-.97.69c-.99.99-.55 2.86 1.03 4.44c.98.97 2.12 1.56 3.06 1.56c.68 0 1.14-.29 1.38-.53c.17-.17.44-.56.75-1.03c.51 1.18.78 2.47.78 3.84c0 5.36-4.33 9.72-9.69 9.72s-9.69-4.36-9.69-9.72A9.68 9.68 0 0 1 12 2.56" />
+</svg>

src/icons/gentoo.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M10.28 2c-.35 0-.71.03-1.05.1c-3.62.66-6.17 3.79-6.38 5.86c-.11 1.01.44 1.77.74 2.1c.81.91 2.44 1.6 3.48 2.17c-1.51 1.27-2.2 1.91-2.88 2.63c-1.02 1.07-1.74 2.24-1.74 3.09c0 .27-.05 1.14.31 1.82c.13.26.51 1.12 1.65 1.76c.73.41 1.76.56 2.78.42c3.14-.45 7.35-3.12 10.36-5.6c1.91-1.58 3.31-3.12 3.71-3.85c.33-.63.37-1.72.18-2.41c-.54-1.95-4.91-5.94-8.48-7.54c-.82-.37-1.76-.55-2.68-.55m1.06 2.91q.375 0 .66.09c1.15.3 3.08 1.68 2.91 2.94c-.23 1.66-1.68 2.33-3.35 2.09c-.98-.13-2.93-1.23-2.78-3.14c.11-1.49 1.52-1.99 2.56-1.98m-.02 1.74c-.27 0-.48.06-.58.22c-.47.72-.24 1.22.18 1.55c.15-.38 1.79.03 1.83.37c1.42-1.07-.39-2.13-1.43-2.14" />
+</svg>

src/icons/github.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M12 2A10 10 0 0 0 2 12c0 4.42 2.87 8.17 6.84 9.5c.5.08.66-.23.66-.5v-1.69c-2.77.6-3.36-1.34-3.36-1.34c-.46-1.16-1.11-1.47-1.11-1.47c-.91-.62.07-.6.07-.6c1 .07 1.53 1.03 1.53 1.03c.87 1.52 2.34 1.07 2.91.83c.09-.65.35-1.09.63-1.34c-2.22-.25-4.55-1.11-4.55-4.92c0-1.11.38-2 1.03-2.71c-.1-.25-.45-1.29.1-2.64c0 0 .84-.27 2.75 1.02c.79-.22 1.65-.33 2.5-.33s1.71.11 2.5.33c1.91-1.29 2.75-1.02 2.75-1.02c.55 1.35.2 2.39.1 2.64c.65.71 1.03 1.6 1.03 2.71c0 3.82-2.34 4.66-4.57 4.91c.36.31.69.92.69 1.85V21c0 .27.16.59.67.5C19.14 20.16 22 16.42 22 12A10 10 0 0 0 12 2" />
+</svg>

src/icons/gitlab.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="m21.663 9.987l-.028-.072l-2.719-7.094a.71.71 0 0 0-.706-.449a.71.71 0 0 0-.654.522L15.72 8.52H8.282L6.443 2.895a.71.71 0 0 0-.652-.524a.72.72 0 0 0-.707.45L2.362 9.925l-.028.07a5.06 5.06 0 0 0 1.674 5.838l.01.007l.024.019l4.147 3.104l2.05 1.553l1.247.944a.84.84 0 0 0 1.016 0l1.247-.944l2.05-1.553l4.172-3.123l.01-.008a5.055 5.055 0 0 0 1.682-5.845" />
+</svg>

src/icons/gmail.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M20 18h-2V9.25L12 13L6 9.25V18H4V6h1.2l6.8 4.25L18.8 6H20m0-2H4c-1.11 0-2 .89-2 2v12a2 2 0 0 0 2 2h16a2 2 0 0 0 2-2V6a2 2 0 0 0-2-2" />
+</svg>

src/icons/google-drive.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="m7.94 4.146l3.482 6.03l-5.94 10.293L2 14.44zm2.176 10.294H22l-3.482 6.029H6.635zm4.343-1L8.518 3.145h6.964l5.94 10.295z" />
+</svg>

src/icons/google-maps.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M18.27 6c1.01 2.17.78 4.73-.33 6.81c-.94 1.69-2.29 3.12-3.44 4.69c-.5.7-1 1.45-1.37 2.26c-.13.27-.22.55-.32.83s-.19.56-.28.84c-.09.26-.2.57-.53.57c-.39 0-.5-.44-.58-.74c-.24-.73-.48-1.43-.85-2.1c-.42-.79-.95-1.52-1.49-2.23zM9.12 8.42l-3.3 3.92c.61 1.29 1.52 2.39 2.39 3.49c.21.25.42.51.62.78L13 11.67l-.04.01c-1.46.5-3.08-.24-3.66-1.68c-.08-.17-.14-.37-.18-.57a3 3 0 0 1 0-1zm-2.54-3.8l-.01.01c-1.62 2.05-1.9 4.9-.93 7.31L9.63 7.2l-.05-.05zm7.64-2.26L11 6.17l.04-.01c1.34-.46 2.84.12 3.52 1.34c.15.28.27.58.31.88c.06.38.08.65.01 1.02v.01l3.2-3.8a7 7 0 0 0-3.85-3.24zM9.89 6.89l3.91-4.65l-.04-.01C13.18 2.08 12.59 2 12 2c-1.97 0-3.83.85-5.15 2.31l-.02.01z" />
+</svg>

src/icons/google-play.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M3 20.5v-17c0-.59.34-1.11.84-1.35L13.69 12l-9.85 9.85c-.5-.25-.84-.76-.84-1.35m13.81-5.38L6.05 21.34l8.49-8.49zm3.35-4.31c.34.27.59.69.59 1.19s-.22.9-.57 1.18l-2.29 1.32l-2.5-2.5l2.5-2.5zM6.05 2.66l10.76 6.22l-2.27 2.27z" />
+</svg>

src/icons/google.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M21.35 11.1h-9.17v2.73h6.51c-.33 3.81-3.5 5.44-6.5 5.44C8.36 19.27 5 16.25 5 12c0-4.1 3.2-7.27 7.2-7.27c3.09 0 4.9 1.97 4.9 1.97L19 4.72S16.56 2 12.1 2C6.42 2 2.03 6.8 2.03 12c0 5.05 4.13 10 10.22 10c5.35 0 9.25-3.67 9.25-9.09c0-1.15-.15-1.81-.15-1.81" />
+</svg>

src/icons/gumroad.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M12 0A12 12 0 0 0 0 12a12 12 0 0 0 12 12a12 12 0 0 0 12-12A12 12 0 0 0 12 0m-.007 5.12c4.48 0 5.995 3.025 6.064 4.744h-3.239c-.069-.962-.897-2.406-2.896-2.406c-2.136 0-3.514 1.857-3.514 4.126s1.378 4.125 3.514 4.125c1.93 0 2.758-1.512 3.103-3.025h-3.103v-1.238h6.509v6.327h-2.855v-3.989c-.207 1.444-1.102 4.264-4.617 4.264c-3.516 0-5.584-2.82-5.584-6.326c0-3.645 2.276-6.602 6.618-6.602" />
+</svg>

src/icons/hacker-news.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M0 0h24v24H0zm12.8 13.446l4.339-8.303h-1.871q-2.143 4.018-2.839 5.786l-.375.96l-.32-.75a49 49 0 0 0-3.022-6.243l.129.243H6.857l4.286 8.2v5.52H12.8z" />
+</svg>

src/icons/heart.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="m12 21.35l-1.45-1.32C5.4 15.36 2 12.27 2 8.5C2 5.41 4.42 3 7.5 3c1.74 0 3.41.81 4.5 2.08C13.09 3.81 14.76 3 16.5 3C19.58 3 22 5.41 22 8.5c0 3.77-3.4 6.86-8.55 11.53z" />
+</svg>

src/icons/imdb.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M18.8 13.768v-1.875l.001-.044q0-.207-.057-.395l.002.01q-.054-.16-.32-.16t-.268.59v.16a8.1 8.1 0 0 0 .115 2.409l-.009-.051q.054.107.24.107a.23.23 0 0 0 .24-.159v-.002c.035-.125.055-.27.055-.418l-.001-.065v.003zm-4.607-3.322a1.3 1.3 0 0 0-.083-.545l.003.009q-.08-.16-.455-.16v4.5q.375 0 .455-.187a1.7 1.7 0 0 0 .08-.621v.004zM24 2.572v-.045c0-.696-.287-1.326-.749-1.776L23.25.75A2.47 2.47 0 0 0 21.473 0h-.047h.002H2.526A2.47 2.47 0 0 0 .749.75L.748.751a2.47 2.47 0 0 0-.75 1.777v.046v-.002v18.901c0 .696.287 1.326.749 1.776l.001.001c.451.463 1.08.75 1.777.75h.047h-.002h18.903c.696 0 1.326-.287 1.776-.749l.001-.001c.463-.451.75-1.08.75-1.777v-.045v.002zm-18.8 6v6.858H3.429V8.573zm6.054 0v6.858H9.751v-4.661l-.64 4.661H7.983l-.64-4.554v4.554H5.786V8.573h2.303q.16 1.018.429 3.161l.054.054l.375-3.214zm4.66 2.41v1.446a13 13 0 0 1-.115 2.21l.008-.067c-.1.383-.408.675-.794.749l-.006.001a14 14 0 0 1-2.327.107l.024.001h-.8V8.572h1.5a6.7 6.7 0 0 1 1.488.114l-.042-.007c.499.108.881.509.959 1.011l.001.007a4.3 4.3 0 0 1 .11 1.131v-.007zm4.608.96h-.058v1.929a3 3 0 0 1-.166 1.146l.006-.021a1.01 1.01 0 0 1-.968.479h.004h-.035c-.448 0-.852-.184-1.143-.48l-.054.429H16.5V8.567h1.66v2.25a1.47 1.47 0 0 1 1.21-.508h-.004a.99.99 0 0 1 .935.451l.002.004a2.25 2.25 0 0 1 .214 1.188l.001-.009z" />
+</svg>

src/icons/instagram.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M7.8 2h8.4C19.4 2 22 4.6 22 7.8v8.4a5.8 5.8 0 0 1-5.8 5.8H7.8C4.6 22 2 19.4 2 16.2V7.8A5.8 5.8 0 0 1 7.8 2m-.2 2A3.6 3.6 0 0 0 4 7.6v8.8C4 18.39 5.61 20 7.6 20h8.8a3.6 3.6 0 0 0 3.6-3.6V7.6C20 5.61 18.39 4 16.4 4zm9.65 1.5a1.25 1.25 0 0 1 1.25 1.25A1.25 1.25 0 0 1 17.25 8A1.25 1.25 0 0 1 16 6.75a1.25 1.25 0 0 1 1.25-1.25M12 7a5 5 0 0 1 5 5a5 5 0 0 1-5 5a5 5 0 0 1-5-5a5 5 0 0 1 5-5m0 2a3 3 0 0 0-3 3a3 3 0 0 0 3 3a3 3 0 0 0 3-3a3 3 0 0 0-3-3" />
+</svg>

src/icons/kofi.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M23.881 8.948c-.773-4.085-4.859-4.593-4.859-4.593H.723c-.604 0-.679.798-.679.798s-.082 7.324-.022 11.822c.164 2.424 2.586 2.672 2.586 2.672s8.267-.023 11.966-.049c2.438-.426 2.683-2.566 2.658-3.734c4.352.24 7.422-2.831 6.649-6.916m-11.062 3.511c-1.246 1.453-4.011 3.976-4.011 3.976s-.121.119-.31.023c-.076-.057-.108-.09-.108-.09c-.443-.441-3.368-3.049-4.034-3.954c-.709-.965-1.041-2.7-.091-3.71c.951-1.01 3.005-1.086 4.363.407c0 0 1.565-1.782 3.468-.963s1.832 3.011.723 4.311m6.173.478c-.928.116-1.682.028-1.682.028V7.284h1.77s1.971.551 1.971 2.638c0 1.913-.985 2.667-2.059 3.015" />
+</svg>

src/icons/lemonsqueezy.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="m7.492 10.835l2.374-6.511a3.15 3.15 0 0 0-.065-2.342C9.031.183 6.943-.398 5.293.265c-1.65.664-2.583 2.17-1.781 4.04l2.82 6.561c.219.51.97.49 1.16-.03m1.68 1.097l6.533-2.776c2.17-.922 2.722-3.69 1.022-5.29l-.068-.063c-1.667-1.547-4.422-1.002-5.37 1.036l-2.932 6.295c-.234.503.295 1.02.816.798m.372.87l6.646-2.512c2.208-.835 4.62.745 4.589 3.04l-.003.09c-.048 2.236-2.393 3.737-4.553 2.947l-6.672-2.442a.595.595 0 0 1-.006-1.123M9.16 14.73l6.437 2.976a3.3 3.3 0 0 1 1.666 1.7c.769 1.8-.283 3.639-1.933 4.3c-1.65.663-3.41.236-4.21-1.635l-2.802-6.57c-.217-.508.328-1.008.842-.771" />
+</svg>

src/icons/letterboxd.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M8.224 14.352a4.45 4.45 0 0 1-3.775 2.092C1.992 16.444 0 14.454 0 12s1.992-4.444 4.45-4.444c1.592 0 2.988.836 3.774 2.092c-.427.682-.673 1.488-.673 2.352s.246 1.67.673 2.352M15.101 12c0-.864.247-1.67.674-2.352c-.786-1.256-2.183-2.092-3.775-2.092s-2.989.836-3.775 2.092c.427.682.674 1.488.674 2.352s-.247 1.67-.674 2.352c.786 1.256 2.183 2.092 3.775 2.092s2.989-.836 3.775-2.092A4.4 4.4 0 0 1 15.1 12zm4.45-4.444a4.45 4.45 0 0 0-3.775 2.092c.427.682.673 1.488.673 2.352s-.246 1.67-.673 2.352a4.45 4.45 0 0 0 3.775 2.092C22.008 16.444 24 14.454 24 12s-1.992-4.444-4.45-4.444z" />
+</svg>

src/icons/line.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M19.365 9.863a.631.631 0 0 1 0 1.261H17.61v1.125h1.755a.63.63 0 1 1 0 1.259h-2.386a.63.63 0 0 1-.627-.629V8.108c0-.345.282-.63.63-.63h2.386a.63.63 0 0 1-.003 1.26H17.61v1.125zm-3.855 3.016a.63.63 0 0 1-.631.627a.62.62 0 0 1-.51-.25l-2.443-3.317v2.94a.63.63 0 0 1-1.257 0V8.108a.627.627 0 0 1 .624-.628c.195 0 .375.104.495.254l2.462 3.33V8.108c0-.345.282-.63.63-.63c.345 0 .63.285.63.63zm-5.741 0a.63.63 0 0 1-.631.629a.63.63 0 0 1-.627-.629V8.108c0-.345.282-.63.63-.63c.346 0 .628.285.628.63zm-2.466.629H4.917a.634.634 0 0 1-.63-.629V8.108c0-.345.285-.63.63-.63c.348 0 .63.285.63.63v4.141h1.756a.63.63 0 0 1 0 1.259M24 10.314C24 4.943 18.615.572 12 .572S0 4.943 0 10.314c0 4.811 4.27 8.842 10.035 9.608c.391.082.923.258 1.058.59c.12.301.079.766.038 1.08l-.164 1.02c-.045.301-.24 1.186 1.049.645c1.291-.539 6.916-4.078 9.436-6.975C23.176 14.393 24 12.458 24 10.314" />
+</svg>

src/icons/link.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M11 17H7q-2.075 0-3.537-1.463T2 12t1.463-3.537T7 7h4v2H7q-1.25 0-2.125.875T4 12t.875 2.125T7 15h4zm-3-4v-2h8v2zm5 4v-2h4q1.25 0 2.125-.875T20 12t-.875-2.125T17 9h-4V7h4q2.075 0 3.538 1.463T22 12t-1.463 3.538T17 17z" />
+</svg>

src/icons/linkedin.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M19 3a2 2 0 0 1 2 2v14a2 2 0 0 1-2 2H5a2 2 0 0 1-2-2V5a2 2 0 0 1 2-2zm-.5 15.5v-5.3a3.26 3.26 0 0 0-3.26-3.26c-.85 0-1.84.52-2.32 1.3v-1.11h-2.79v8.37h2.79v-4.93c0-.77.62-1.4 1.39-1.4a1.4 1.4 0 0 1 1.4 1.4v4.93zM6.88 8.56a1.68 1.68 0 0 0 1.68-1.68c0-.93-.75-1.69-1.68-1.69a1.69 1.69 0 0 0-1.69 1.69c0 .93.76 1.68 1.69 1.68m1.39 9.94v-8.37H5.5v8.37z" />
+</svg>

src/icons/linux-mint.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M2 3.23V6.8h1.5c1.09 0 1.28.73 1.28 1.75v6.31c0 3.26 2.87 5.91 6.4 5.91h8.72c1.1 0 2.1-.7 2.1-1.77V9.2c0-3.27-2.87-5.92-6.4-5.92h-3.67v-.01zm4.62 2.23h1.75v8.99c0 1.2.82 2.14 1.79 2.14l5.97.02c1.25 0 2.22-.86 2.22-1.88l-.01-4.77c0-.31-.1-.55-.34-.77a.94.94 0 0 0-.75-.33c-.31 0-.54.1-.75.33c-.23.22-.34.46-.34.77v4.09h-1.85V9.96c0-.31-.1-.55-.31-.77c-.23-.23-.46-.33-.78-.33c-.3 0-.54.1-.76.33c-.22.22-.32.46-.32.77v4.09h-1.85V9.96c0-.81.29-1.52.86-2.1c.57-.57 1.28-.86 2.07-.86c.78 0 1.46.28 2.02.82c.55-.54 1.23-.82 2.01-.82c.8 0 1.51.29 2.07.86c.57.58.87 1.29.87 2.1l.01 5.1c-.09.85-.45 1.61-1.07 2.25c-.73.73-1.63 1.11-2.63 1.11H9.83c-.83-.08-1.54-.47-2.14-1.06c-.69-.71-1.07-1.57-1.07-2.57z" />
+</svg>

src/icons/linux.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,9 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<g fill="none" fill-rule="evenodd">
+		<path d="m12.594 23.258l-.012.002l-.071.035l-.02.004l-.014-.004l-.071-.036q-.016-.004-.024.006l-.004.01l-.017.428l.005.02l.01.013l.104.074l.015.004l.012-.004l.104-.074l.012-.016l.004-.017l-.017-.427q-.004-.016-.016-.018m.264-.113l-.014.002l-.184.093l-.01.01l-.003.011l.018.43l.005.012l.008.008l.201.092q.019.005.029-.008l.004-.014l-.034-.614q-.005-.019-.02-.022m-.715.002a.02.02 0 0 0-.027.006l-.006.014l-.034.614q.001.018.017.024l.015-.002l.201-.093l.01-.008l.003-.011l.018-.43l-.003-.012l-.01-.01z" />
+		<path fill="currentColor" d="M8.264 15.29a1 1 0 0 1 .822.522l1.892 3.493a1.809 1.809 0 0 1-1.856 2.65l-3.93-.582a1 1 0 0 1-.672-1.563l.623-.89l-.174-.984a1 1 0 0 1 .811-1.159l.985-.173l.623-.89a1 1 0 0 1 .876-.425Zm6.347-.024a1 1 0 0 1 .858-.043l.116.057l.94.543l.966-.259a1 1 0 0 1 1.188.596l.037.111l.259.966l.94.543a1 1 0 0 1 .154 1.623l-.103.078l-3.315 2.188a1.809 1.809 0 0 1-2.805-1.46l.003-.158l.238-3.965a1 1 0 0 1 .524-.82M12 2a4 4 0 0 1 4 4v1c0 1.214.502 2.267 1.166 3.354l.736 1.165c.1.16.195.315.28.457c.32.541.628 1.14.788 1.781a7 7 0 0 1 .194 1.358a2 2 0 0 0-1.932-.516l-.565.151l-.582-.336a2 2 0 0 0-2.996 1.613l-.238 3.965c-.021.345.022.684.121 1.003l-.269.005h-.406q-.114 0-.226-.004c.22-.71.152-1.492-.214-2.167l-1.891-3.493a2 2 0 0 0-3.397-.195l-.385.55l-.33.058a5.4 5.4 0 0 1 .024-1.16c.037-.285.086-.567.152-.832c.198-.792.535-1.459.857-2.02l.437-.74C7.74 10.28 8 9.722 8 9V6a4 4 0 0 1 4-4m-1.438 5.778l-.822.41c.224.597.572 1.156.897 1.6l.204.269l.184.225l.081.094l.25-.141l.329-.197c.176-.109.368-.232.566-.367c.604-.412 1.225-.91 1.662-1.427l-2.316-.58a1.5 1.5 0 0 0-1.035.114" />
+	</g>
+</svg>

src/icons/mastodon.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M20.94 14c-.28 1.41-2.44 2.96-4.97 3.26c-1.31.15-2.6.3-3.97.24c-2.25-.11-4-.54-4-.54v.62c.32 2.22 2.22 2.35 4.03 2.42c1.82.05 3.44-.46 3.44-.46l.08 1.65s-1.28.68-3.55.81c-1.25.07-2.81-.03-4.62-.5c-3.92-1.05-4.6-5.24-4.7-9.5l-.01-3.43c0-4.34 2.83-5.61 2.83-5.61C6.95 2.3 9.41 2 11.97 2h.06c2.56 0 5.02.3 6.47.96c0 0 2.83 1.27 2.83 5.61c0 0 .04 3.21-.39 5.43M18 8.91c0-1.08-.3-1.91-.85-2.56c-.56-.63-1.3-.96-2.23-.96c-1.06 0-1.87.41-2.42 1.23l-.5.88l-.5-.88c-.56-.82-1.36-1.23-2.43-1.23c-.92 0-1.66.33-2.23.96C6.29 7 6 7.83 6 8.91v5.26h2.1V9.06c0-1.06.45-1.62 1.36-1.62c1 0 1.5.65 1.5 1.93v2.79h2.07V9.37c0-1.28.5-1.93 1.51-1.93c.9 0 1.35.56 1.35 1.62v5.11H18z" />
+</svg>

src/icons/medium.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M13.41 12.007c0 3.45-2.779 6.247-6.205 6.247S1 15.458 1 12.007S3.778 5.76 7.205 5.76s6.204 2.797 6.204 6.247m6.806 0c0 3.248-1.39 5.88-3.102 5.88c-1.714 0-3.103-2.633-3.103-5.88s1.39-5.88 3.103-5.88s3.102 2.633 3.102 5.88m2.784 0c0 2.91-.489 5.269-1.091 5.269c-.603 0-1.091-2.36-1.091-5.269s.488-5.269 1.091-5.269S23 9.098 23 12.008" />
+</svg>

src/icons/messenger.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M12.001 2c5.634 0 10 4.127 10 9.7s-4.367 9.7-10 9.7a11 11 0 0 1-2.895-.384a.8.8 0 0 0-.534.039l-1.985.876a.8.8 0 0 1-1.123-.707l-.054-1.78a.8.8 0 0 0-.269-.57c-1.945-1.74-3.14-4.258-3.14-7.174c0-5.573 4.366-9.7 10-9.7M5.996 14.537c-.282.447.268.951.689.631l3.155-2.394a.6.6 0 0 1 .723 0l2.336 1.75a1.5 1.5 0 0 0 2.17-.4l2.937-4.66c.282-.448-.268-.952-.689-.633l-3.155 2.396a.6.6 0 0 1-.723 0l-2.337-1.75a1.5 1.5 0 0 0-2.169.4z" />
+</svg>

src/icons/meta.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M16.92 4.5c-1.851 0-3.298 1.394-4.608 3.165C10.512 5.373 9.007 4.5 7.206 4.5C3.534 4.5.72 9.28.72 14.338c0 3.165 1.531 5.162 4.096 5.162c1.846 0 3.174-.87 5.535-4.997c0 0 .984-1.737 1.66-2.934q.356.574.75 1.238l1.107 1.862c2.156 3.608 3.358 4.831 5.534 4.831c2.5 0 3.89-2.024 3.89-5.255c0-5.297-2.877-9.745-6.372-9.745m-8.37 8.886c-1.913 3-2.575 3.673-3.64 3.673c-1.097 0-1.749-.963-1.749-2.68c0-3.672 1.831-7.427 4.014-7.427c1.182 0 2.17.682 3.683 2.848c-1.437 2.204-2.307 3.586-2.307 3.586m7.224-.377L14.45 10.8a45 45 0 0 0-1.032-1.608c1.193-1.841 2.176-2.759 3.347-2.759c2.43 0 4.375 3.58 4.375 7.976c0 1.676-.549 2.649-1.686 2.649c-1.09 0-1.61-.72-3.68-4.05" />
+</svg>

src/icons/neovim.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M2.214 4.954v13.615L7.655 24V10.314L3.312 3.845zm4.999 17.98l-4.557-4.548V5.136l.59-.596l3.967 5.908v12.485zm14.573-4.457l-.862.937l-4.24-6.376V0l5.068 5.092zM7.431.001l12.998 19.835l-3.637 3.637L3.787 3.683L7.43 0z" />
+</svg>

src/icons/netflix.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M6.5 2h4l2.94 8.83L13.5 2h4v20c-1.25-.22-2.63-.36-4.09-.42L10.5 13l-.07 8.59c-1.4.06-2.73.2-3.93.41z" />
+</svg>

src/icons/nintendo.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="m4.447 12.546l-1.202-1.942h-.864v2.793h.864v-1.942l1.202 1.942h.856v-2.793H4.44zm6.828-1.001v-.279h-.451v-.376h-.841v.376h-.458v.279h.458v1.852h.841v-1.852zm-5.491 1.844h.834v-1.852h-.834zm0-2.213h.841v-.572h-.841zm14.663.233c-.676 0-1.224.467-1.224 1.039s.548 1.039 1.224 1.039s1.225-.467 1.225-1.039s-.549-1.039-1.225-1.039m.338 1.431c0 .293-.173.414-.338.414s-.346-.121-.346-.414v-.783c0-.294.173-.414.346-.414c.165 0 .338.12.338.414zm-2.659-1.212a1.1 1.1 0 0 0-.473-.166c-.601-.053-1.067.482-1.067.971c0 .648.496.881.571.919c.285.128.646.135.961-.068v.105h.827v-2.785h-.827c.008 0 .008.595.008 1.024m.008.828v.331c0 .286-.196.361-.331.361s-.331-.075-.331-.361v-.662c0-.287.196-.362.331-.362c.128 0 .33.075.33.362zm-9.556-1.001a1.02 1.02 0 0 0-.668.278v-.196h-.834v1.852h.834V12.17c0-.158.172-.339.398-.339c.225 0 .383.181.383.339v1.219h.834v-1.008c0-.731-.631-.942-.947-.926m6.798 0a1 1 0 0 0-.668.278v-.196h-.834v1.852h.834V12.17c0-.158.173-.339.398-.339s.383.181.383.339v1.219h.834v-1.008c0-.731-.631-.942-.947-.926m-1.75 1.016c0-.572-.556-1.054-1.232-1.054c-.683 0-1.232.467-1.232 1.039s.549 1.039 1.232 1.039c.564 0 1.044-.324 1.187-.76h-.834v.112c0 .339-.225.414-.345.414c-.128 0-.353-.075-.353-.413v-.385zm-1.517-.655a.35.35 0 0 1 .293-.166c.112 0 .225.053.293.166c.052.09.052.203.052.361h-.698c0-.158.007-.263.06-.361m9.893-.866q0-.135-.203-.135h-.188v.474h.113v-.196h.06l.09.196h.128l-.105-.211c.067-.022.105-.068.105-.128m-.218.068h-.06v-.136h.052q.104 0 .105.068c0 .053-.029.068-.097.068m.007-.392a.433.433 0 0 0-.428.43c0 .233.196.429.429.429a.429.429 0 0 0 0-.859zm0 .776a.35.35 0 0 1-.345-.346a.35.35 0 0 1 .346-.347a.35.35 0 0 1 .345.347a.35.35 0 0 1-.345.346zm-.938-2.364H3.132C1.254 9.03 0 10.386 0 12.004s1.254 2.959 3.14 2.959h17.72c1.886 0 3.14-1.34 3.14-2.959c-.007-1.618-1.269-2.966-3.147-2.966m-.008 5.202H3.14c-1.495.008-2.404-1.001-2.404-2.236s.917-2.228 2.404-2.236h17.705c1.487 0 2.404 1.001 2.404 2.236s-.909 2.236-2.404 2.236" />
+</svg>

src/icons/notion.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M6.104 5.91c.584.474.802.438 1.898.365l10.332-.62c.22 0 .037-.22-.036-.256l-1.716-1.24c-.329-.255-.767-.548-1.606-.475l-10.005.73c-.364.036-.437.219-.292.365zm.62 2.408v10.87c0 .585.292.803.95.767l11.354-.657c.657-.036.73-.438.73-.913V7.588c0-.474-.182-.73-.584-.693l-11.866.693c-.438.036-.584.255-.584.73m11.21.583c.072.328 0 .657-.33.694l-.547.109v8.025c-.475.256-.913.401-1.278.401c-.584 0-.73-.182-1.168-.729l-3.579-5.618v5.436l1.133.255s0 .656-.914.656l-2.519.146c-.073-.146 0-.51.256-.583l.657-.182v-7.187l-.913-.073c-.073-.329.11-.803.621-.84l2.702-.182l3.724 5.692V9.886l-.95-.109c-.072-.402.22-.693.585-.73zM4.131 3.429l10.406-.766c1.277-.11 1.606-.036 2.41.547l3.321 2.335c.548.401.731.51.731.948v12.805c0 .803-.292 1.277-1.314 1.35l-12.085.73c-.767.036-1.132-.073-1.534-.584L3.62 17.62c-.438-.584-.62-1.021-.62-1.533V4.705c0-.656.292-1.203 1.132-1.276" />
+</svg>

src/icons/obsidian.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M19.355 18.538a68.967 68.959 0 0 0 1.858-2.954a.81.81 0 0 0-.062-.9c-.516-.685-1.504-2.075-2.042-3.362c-.553-1.321-.636-3.375-.64-4.377a1.7 1.7 0 0 0-.358-1.05l-3.198-4.064a4 4 0 0 1-.076.543c-.106.503-.307 1.004-.536 1.5c-.134.29-.29.6-.446.914l-.31.626c-.516 1.068-.997 2.227-1.132 3.59c-.124 1.26.046 2.73.815 4.481q.192.016.386.044a6.36 6.36 0 0 1 3.326 1.505c.916.79 1.744 1.922 2.415 3.5zM8.199 22.569q.11.019.22.02c.78.024 2.095.092 3.16.29c.87.16 2.593.64 4.01 1.055c1.083.316 2.198-.548 2.355-1.664c.114-.814.33-1.735.725-2.58l-.01.005c-.67-1.87-1.522-3.078-2.416-3.849a5.3 5.3 0 0 0-2.778-1.257c-1.54-.216-2.952.19-3.84.45c.532 2.218.368 4.829-1.425 7.531zM5.533 9.938q-.035.15-.098.29L2.82 16.059a1.6 1.6 0 0 0 .313 1.772l4.116 4.24c2.103-3.101 1.796-6.02.836-8.3c-.728-1.73-1.832-3.081-2.55-3.831zM9.32 14.01c.615-.183 1.606-.465 2.745-.534c-.683-1.725-.848-3.233-.716-4.577c.154-1.552.7-2.847 1.235-3.95q.17-.35.328-.664c.149-.297.288-.577.419-.86c.217-.47.379-.885.46-1.27c.08-.38.08-.72-.014-1.043c-.095-.325-.297-.675-.68-1.06a1.6 1.6 0 0 0-1.475.36l-4.95 4.452a1.6 1.6 0 0 0-.513.952l-.427 2.83c.672.59 2.328 2.316 3.335 4.711q.136.317.253.653" />
+</svg>

src/icons/onlyfans.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M24 4.003h-4.015c-3.45 0-5.3.197-6.748 1.957a7.996 7.996 0 1 0 2.103 9.211c3.182-.231 5.39-2.134 6.085-5.173c0 0-2.399.585-4.43 0c4.018-.777 6.333-3.037 7.005-5.995M5.61 11.999A2.391 2.391 0 0 1 9.28 9.97a2.966 2.966 0 0 1 2.998-2.528h.008c-.92 1.778-1.407 3.352-1.998 5.263A2.392 2.392 0 0 1 5.61 12Zm2.386-7.996a7.996 7.996 0 1 0 7.996 7.996a7.996 7.996 0 0 0-7.996-7.996m0 10.394A2.399 2.399 0 1 1 10.395 12a2.396 2.396 0 0 1-2.399 2.398Z" />
+</svg>

src/icons/openai.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M20.562 10.188c.25-.688.313-1.376.25-2.063c-.062-.687-.312-1.375-.625-2c-.562-.937-1.375-1.687-2.312-2.125c-1-.437-2.063-.562-3.125-.312c-.5-.5-1.063-.938-1.688-1.25S11.687 2 11 2a5.17 5.17 0 0 0-3 .938c-.875.624-1.5 1.5-1.813 2.5c-.75.187-1.375.5-2 .875c-.562.437-1 1-1.375 1.562c-.562.938-.75 2-.625 3.063a5.44 5.44 0 0 0 1.25 2.874a4.7 4.7 0 0 0-.25 2.063c.063.688.313 1.375.625 2c.563.938 1.375 1.688 2.313 2.125c1 .438 2.062.563 3.125.313c.5.5 1.062.937 1.687 1.25S12.312 22 13 22a5.17 5.17 0 0 0 3-.937c.875-.625 1.5-1.5 1.812-2.5a4.54 4.54 0 0 0 1.938-.875c.562-.438 1.062-.938 1.375-1.563c.562-.937.75-2 .625-3.062c-.125-1.063-.5-2.063-1.188-2.876m-7.5 10.5c-1 0-1.75-.313-2.437-.875c0 0 .062-.063.125-.063l4-2.312a.5.5 0 0 0 .25-.25a.57.57 0 0 0 .062-.313V11.25l1.688 1v4.625a3.685 3.685 0 0 1-3.688 3.813M5 17.25c-.438-.75-.625-1.625-.438-2.5c0 0 .063.063.125.063l4 2.312a.56.56 0 0 0 .313.063c.125 0 .25 0 .312-.063l4.875-2.812v1.937l-4.062 2.375A3.7 3.7 0 0 1 7.312 19c-1-.25-1.812-.875-2.312-1.75M3.937 8.563a3.8 3.8 0 0 1 1.938-1.626v4.751c0 .124 0 .25.062.312a.5.5 0 0 0 .25.25l4.875 2.813l-1.687 1l-4-2.313a3.7 3.7 0 0 1-1.75-2.25c-.25-.937-.188-2.062.312-2.937M17.75 11.75l-4.875-2.812l1.687-1l4 2.312c.625.375 1.125.875 1.438 1.5s.5 1.313.437 2.063a3.7 3.7 0 0 1-.75 1.937c-.437.563-1 1-1.687 1.25v-4.75c0-.125 0-.25-.063-.312c0 0-.062-.126-.187-.188m1.687-2.5s-.062-.062-.125-.062l-4-2.313c-.125-.062-.187-.062-.312-.062s-.25 0-.313.062L9.812 9.688V7.75l4.063-2.375c.625-.375 1.312-.5 2.062-.5c.688 0 1.375.25 2 .688c.563.437 1.063 1 1.313 1.625s.312 1.375.187 2.062m-10.5 3.5l-1.687-1V7.063c0-.688.187-1.438.562-2C8.187 4.438 8.75 4 9.375 3.688a3.37 3.37 0 0 1 2.062-.313c.688.063 1.375.375 1.938.813c0 0-.063.062-.125.062l-4 2.313a.5.5 0 0 0-.25.25c-.063.125-.063.187-.063.312zm.875-2L12 9.5l2.187 1.25v2.5L12 14.5l-2.188-1.25z" />
+</svg>

src/icons/outlook.svg

@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+---
+const props = Astro.props
+---
+<svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="1em" height="1em" viewBox="0 0 24 24" {...props}>
+	<path fill="currentColor" d="M8.56 12.03q0 .38-.06.73q-.11.34-.3.62q-.2.27-.49.43q-.3.16-.71.16q-.42 0-.71-.17t-.48-.45t-.27-.63q-.09-.35-.09-.72q0-.36.09-.72q.08-.35.27-.63t.5-.45q.3-.17.72-.17q.43 0 .72.17q.3.18.48.46q.18.29.27.64q.06.36.06.73M22 12v7.81q0 .39-.27.69q-.28.25-.67.25H7.94q-.39 0-.67-.25q-.27-.3-.27-.69V17H2.83q-.33 0-.59-.24Q2 16.5 2 16.17V7.83q0-.33.24-.59Q2.5 7 2.83 7h5.42V4.13q0-.37.25-.63q.26-.25.63-.25h10.74q.37 0 .63.25q.25.26.25.63v6.91l1.04.6h.01q.08.06.14.16q.06.09.06.2m-5-6.87v2.5h2.5v-2.5M17 8.88v2.5h2.5v-2.5M17 12.63v1.52l2.54-1.52m-6.91-7.5v2.5h3.12v-2.5m-3.12 3.75v2.5h3.12v-2.5m-3.12 3.75v1.69l2.01 1.24l1.11-.66v-2.27M9.5 5.13V7h1.77q.06 0 .11.04V5.12M7 15.32q.73 0 1.32-.26q.58-.26.99-.71q.4-.45.6-1.07q.21-.62.22-1.34q0-.69-.21-1.29q-.2-.59-.6-1.03q-.39-.44-.95-.69q-.57-.25-1.29-.25q-.77 0-1.37.25q-.59.25-1 .7q-.41.46-.62 1.08q-.21.63-.21 1.37q0 .7.21 1.3q.22.59.62 1.02t.97.68q.58.24 1.32.24m1.25 4.18h10.32L12 15.4v.77q0 .33-.24.59q-.26.24-.59.24H8.25m12.5 2.39v-6.03l-4.92 2.95Z" />
+</svg>