I prefer not to write a long analysis of this remarkable short story by Herman Melville. The net is full of different interpretations of this deceptively simple tale. Suffice to say that Bartleby's gradual passive detachment from his expected professional and social obligations is in itself a powerful statement on the human condition. We are born into a life of constraints. We take our choices and our prefabricated lives for granted. Like puppets on a string we give great performances, we bow to routine and turn the giant clock's hands on the hour, every hour. As integrated parts of a system we cannot afford to stop. The show must go on and then... Bartleby prefers not to. He finds it more interesting to just stare at the wall. Many an analyst in the internet, especially after reading Melville's "explanation" at the end of the story, talk about how dead Bartleby is. But I wonder. Maybe Bartleby while staring at the wall actually found the door. But that is another story by H.G Wells.