The sunny side of Franz Kafka
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amschelkavka.bsky.social
The sunny side of Franz Kafka
@amschelkavka.bsky.social
Had I slept as much as I thought about you, it would have been a lot.

Franz Kafka, 1913.
October 21, 2025 at 6:52 AM
Monday. I think I shall start to write again; many stories, dearest, are drumming their marching tunes in my head.

Franz Kafka, 1913.
October 13, 2025 at 6:41 AM
By the way, I shall be dropping by your place for a moment on Monday at five; if I happen to disturb you in the midst of your work, pretend you're not home.

Franz Kafka, 1909.
October 6, 2025 at 11:29 AM
Take care of yourself. Let everything be for a while.

Franz Kafka, 1913.
September 6, 2025 at 8:40 AM
But now, no more words, only kisses, and many of them, for a thousand reasons, since it is Sunday.

Franz Kafka, 1912.
August 31, 2025 at 9:25 AM
Doing absolutely nothing for an hour, leaning back in my armchair, in my dressing gown.

Franz Kafka, 1912.
August 30, 2025 at 7:40 AM
I'm going to sleep, I only want to greet you with a few strokes of the pen, my dearest, incomprehensibly beloved.

Franz Kafka, 1913.
August 28, 2025 at 7:43 PM
Today I should not complain at all.

Franz Kafka, 1912.
August 26, 2025 at 6:38 AM
I wish you a beautiful Sunday, friendly parents, fine food, long walks, and a clear head.

Franz Kafka, 1912.
August 24, 2025 at 9:25 AM
Yes, that would be lovely, to read this story to you, while I would have to hold your hand, for the story is a little frightening. It is called Metamorphosis.

Franz Kafka, 1912.
August 22, 2025 at 9:19 AM
I got a little lost, but it doesn't matter, because you may have come along, and now we're both lost.

Franz Kafka, 1920.
August 19, 2025 at 1:15 PM
Until midnight yesterday, I spent the evening with you, first in writing then even more in thought.

Franz Kafka, 1920.
August 14, 2025 at 5:40 PM
I was holding my head nice and high again and the next day a girl put on a white dress and fell in love with me.

Franz Kafka, 1904.
August 8, 2025 at 5:27 AM
I think of you with such love and care as if God had entrusted you to me in the clearest words.

Franz Kafka, 1913.
August 7, 2025 at 7:41 AM
The joy of helping you would have exceeded a hundred times any trouble.

Franz Kafka, 1913.
August 6, 2025 at 8:09 AM
Dearest, it's still very early, work is waiting, the boss is waiting..
but I'm still sitting here at the typewriter, spending time on you.

Franz Kafka, 1916.

(Kafka's typewriter at work:)
August 4, 2025 at 8:04 AM
Why, on these few remaining summer Sundays, don’t you go off into the country first thing in the morning?

Franz Kafka, 1916.
August 3, 2025 at 6:47 AM
Bring your head to my chest, which needs you so much more than you can imagine.

Franz Kafka, 1913.
July 31, 2025 at 7:59 AM
Stay with me entirely, dearest, stay for me as you are; I would not wish a single hair on your head to turn any way other than it does.

Franz Kafka, 1912.
July 29, 2025 at 7:23 AM
I am sending you a flash photograph of myself. I haven’t in fact got a twisted face; it’s the flash that gives me that visionary look, and I have long ago abandoned high collars.

The tie is a real showpiece; I bought it on a trip to Paris.

Franz Kafka, 1912.
July 28, 2025 at 8:50 AM
And now tonight, as I say goodnight to you, receive the flow of all that I am and have, and all that is deeply happy, to rest in you.

Franz Kafka, 1920.
July 27, 2025 at 6:56 PM
Oh, darling, it's high time to stop and kiss.

Franz Kafka, 1912
July 26, 2025 at 8:33 AM
Had you not been lying on the ground among the animals, you would have been unable to see the sky and the stars and wouldn’t have been set free.

Franz Kafka, 1915.
July 25, 2025 at 11:27 AM
I noticed her earlier when she and two friends were eating Halberstadt sausages with mustard. She was wearing a white blouse with embroidered flowers that went over her arms and shoulders.

Franz Kafka, 1912.
July 24, 2025 at 10:40 AM
So, my dearest girl, it is evening again after a sleepless afternoon, nothing more is written, only to this girl to whom one always wants to write, from whom one always wants to hear, with whom one always wants to be, in whom one would most like to disappear.

Franz Kafka, 1912.
July 23, 2025 at 7:24 PM