![[Translate to English:] [Translate to English:]](/fileadmin/_processed_/c/6/csm_watcher_1_0086045e56.webp)

A selection of the display options for text and image elements
Someone must have slandered Josef K., because without him having done anything wrong, he was arrested one morning.
Someone must have slandered Josef K.
They could have jumped into the boat, but the traveller lifted a heavy, knotted rope from the ground.
In recent decades, interest in hunger artists has waned considerably.
Someone must have slandered Josef K., because without him having done anything wrong, he was arrested one morning. "Like a dog! " he said, it was as if shame should outlive him. When Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from troubled dreams, he found himself transformed into a monstrous vermin in his bed. And it was like a confirmation of their new dreams and good intentions when, at the end of their journey, their daughter was the first to rise and stretch her young body. "It's a strange contraption," said the officer to the explorer, surveying the familiar apparatus with a look of admiration.
But they overcame each other, crowded round the cage and refused to move. Someone must have slandered Josef K., because one morning he was arrested without having done anything wrong. "Like a dog! " he said, it was as if the shame should outlive him. When Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from troubled dreams, he found himself transformed into a monstrous vermin in his bed.

A wonderful cheerfulness
A wonderful cheerfulness has taken over my whole soul, like the sweet spring mornings that I savour with all my heart. I am alone and enjoy my life in this neighbourhood, which is made for such souls as mine. I am so happy, my dearest, so completely absorbed in the feeling of peaceful existence, that my art suffers as a result. I could not draw now, not a stroke, and have never been a greater painter than in these moments.
When the dear valley steams around me, and the high sun rests on the surface of the impenetrable darkness of my forest, and only single rays steal into the inner sanctum, and I lie in the high grass by the falling stream, and nearer to the earth a thousand manifold grasses become strange to me; when I feel the teeming of the small world between the stalks, the countless, unfathomable shapes of the little worms, the little gnats closer to my heart, and feel the presence of the Almighty, who created us in his image, the wafting of the All-Loving One, who carries and sustains us in eternal bliss; my friend!
Far back, behind the word mountains

Far back, behind the mountains of words, far from the countries of vowels and consonants, live the blind texts. They live in seclusion in Buchstabhausen on the coast of the Semantik, a large linguistic ocean. A small stream called Duden flows through their village and supplies them with the necessary regularities. It's a paradisiacal land where fried sentence fragments fly into your mouth. Not even the almighty punctuation controls the blind texts - an almost unorthographic life.
One day, however, a small line of dummy text, her name was Lorem Ipsum, decided to go out into the wide world of grammar. The great Oxmox advised her against it, as it was teeming with nasty commas, wild question marks and sneaky semicolons, but the little blind text was undeterred. It grabbed its seven capital letters, slipped its initial into its belt and set off.

He heard soft footsteps behind him
He heard quiet footsteps behind him. That didn't bode well. Who would follow him, late at night and in this narrow alleyway in the middle of the infamous harbour district? Just now, when he had done the thing of his life and wanted to disappear with the loot! Had one of his countless colleagues had the same idea, watched and waited for him, only to relieve him of the fruits of his labour?
Or did the footsteps behind him belong to one of the countless law enforcement officers in this city, and the steel figure eight around his wrists was about to snap shut? He could already hear the order to stop. He looked around in a hurry. Suddenly he caught sight of the narrow passageway. In a flash, he turned to the right and disappeared between the two buildings. He almost fell over the overturned rubbish bin that lay in the middle of the path.
When the first hills of the Italic Mountains

As it climbed the first hills of the Italic Mountains, it took one last look back at the skyline of its home town of Buchstabhausen, the headline of Alphabetdorf and the subline of its own street, Zeilengasse. A rhetorical question ran wistfully down its cheek, then it continued on its way. On the way, it met a copy. The copy warned the blind text that it had been rewritten umpteen times where it came from and that all that was left of its origin was the word "and" and that the blind text should turn round and return to its own safe country.
However, all the good-talk couldn't convince it and so it wasn't long before a few insidious copywriters ambushed it, got it drunk with lunge and slogan and then dragged it back to their agency, where they misused it again and again for their projects. And if it hasn't been rewritten, they're still using it. Far back, behind the mountains of words, far from the countries of vowels and consonants, live the blind texts. Living in seclusion