In his unfinished novel Amerika, Franz Kafka's hero leaves
“The road started to climb and when they stopped from time to time they could see, looking back, the panorama ofOf course whether or not Kafka meant to write '
and its harbour continually unfolding. The bridge that connected New York with New York lay slender across the Boston , and trembled if you narrowed your eyes. It seemed to be carrying no traffic at all, and below it was the smooth unanimated ribbon of water.” Hudson