Reading Kafka's "Wedding Preparations in the Country". A fragment, an incomplete work. A work that might never have had a chance to complete itself, would Kafka have enough time at his disposal.
A trip that averts and abhors its destination is doomed to eternal procrastination. It is a trip that doesn't want to go anywhere and is all but happy to go nowhere. How can anyone, including Kafka, impart to such a trip a legitimate end? An end of any kind thus be given can only be illegal, almost by definition.
A fragment, this fragment, is born by nature.
It is, therefore, already complete.
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