There are several ways by which man expresses ownership of an area, the most common being that of a paper with his signature ..also called a land title.
I am not a fan of land titles – it has created imaginary lines over the world, allowed a few to put cost over that which nobody owns, and has constantly become the cause of wars. All these resulting to the displacement of millions and the death of more.
Still, I crave for land. Just ‘coz I am not a fan of titles doesn’t mean that I should be opposed to having one. It’s like smoking even if you know it’s wrong. After all, what would you have me do? change the world.. bwahaha!
But while waiting for that day when I could feast over mortgage payments, I am only able to express my territoriality like that of the dog’s – namely, by pooping. I am the master of my toilet bowl; nobody poops in it without my permission. It is not conjugal property ..it is only mine! mine! ..my precioussss!!!
This territoriality however turns its back on me when I feel the urge to defecate in other places. I cannot poop in other places.. and I do not become an inhibited person (ma-arte) until confronted with issues of the public toilet.
I prefer my public toilet to be quiet, like a personal space. This because pooping also serves as a reflective time for me. I use it to pause, reflect and look at my life. It is a daily ritual that ends with the flush!
When pooping, I do not put my feet on public toilets as some people do (i know this because the honesty of men can be very futile sometimes); my conio genes does not permit me to contort to such position. Instead I sit on it like a king to his thrown.
Therefore, it will take me twice the amount of time to poop outside of my home than it would in my own toilet; half of it spent on protecting my germaphobic ass by covering the bowl with tissue which i will not throw afterwards. If you’ve ever seen one in that state, chances are, I was there.