"The office was becoming unbearable (...). He went through the motions of his work in a kind of numbness: 'And most of the time in the office I do what I am supposed to, am quite calm when I can be sure that my boss is satisfied, and do not feel that my condition is dreadful.' At night the demons – 'the great agitation in me' – returned to torment him in his lonely room in a house where he felt no one understood him, and where he watched in the middle of the night the lights and shadows thrown on the walls and ceilings by the electric lights of Niklasstrasse and the Cech Bridge. Kafka's Prague was sometimes reduced to this: a tight domestic web wrapped around him as if he were a trapped insect."
Nicholas Murray. Kafka. London: Abacus, 2014, p. 93