I’ve already mentioned the reach of my territory: between my park and the sewers that spill on the river. The park is my main dominion. Most of my awaken hours I’ll spend traversing the sandy paths, assessing the contents of the trashcans, sitting down on a bench or behind a statue. I must point out that even though my park belongs to me in its entirety, I’ve never been opposed to sharing it with other homeless people, and I’ll benevolently allow nocturnal lovers to seek their pleasures on my lawn.
I’m also the owner of all the trashcans that can be found between my park and Turd’s sewer. From that point on, his area starts. His is not a bad area at all, in my opinion, but Turd has never known how to exploit his estate in any efficient manner. He wields the excuse that he is above any notions about properties and hunting grounds, he says to have enough with his sewer, and he’ll even accuse me of being a bourgeois, although I have my doubts he really appreciates the meaning of that word, poor insect.
It’s true that he obtains from his sewer all his clothing, and also, I fear, most of his nutrients. Nonetheless, I think it’s a waste, a real pity, all those trashcans going unattended. A true pity. Similarly astonishing is how, given what he eats, he’s still alive.