ESCAPE TO THE BATHROOM PART !
Dear friends,
I write to you from the bathroom of a French investment bank in Manhattan. I fear being discovered by the intrusive coworker beasts and this is the only means of concealment I have found as yet. Also, this bathroom features auto-flushers that go off at the slightest movement. I must be quiet and still.
I fear I will not survive this place. That the zombie-faced analysts shall eventually resort to eating me alive. That the stacks and shelves of files upon files will continue to papercut my poor fingers until I die a torturous Death of a Thousand Cuts as was used in the ancient Orient. Or that the sheer hours of solitude shall wreak havoc on my mind and destroy what semblance of sanity I have left. This place is a test of my stamina, my strength, and my will to make it out alive.
I know not whether this letter will ever reach you. I know not whether I’ll ever see your smiling faces again, or hear the peels of your carefree laughter. I will, however, write whenever I have the chance. I intend to persevere.
With all my heart,
The Adventurer
