He had just started to piss in that limbo of non-thought that always accompanies the moment.
The bathroom door is closed next shot, behind a man came running. Fart thundering in B flat for two and a half seconds. Conclusion triptych rhythm down. Instant
stinks, at least two octaves higher.
The bathrooms of the workplace as a place for recovery of a natural etiquette now lost.
The Indian food at the end literally, is always the one that stinks the most. At least
reported to western standards.
In Europe, the German reign.
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