You know the ones. Like this, on street corners.
Question. What happens inside after you leave and the door closes? Exactly? I sometimes get bothered when there are things I do not know. I need an accomplice. To enter one with me; they would leave; I could stand on the lid inside (maybe with an umbrella, certainly a raincoat) and observe the self-cleaning shenanigans up close and personal.
I just want to know.
Also, I have some self-adhesive sheets of A4 paper and I have had the idea of printing poems on them – with a pseudonym – and attaching them to the walls of public toilets, inside, so folks have something to read. So I need to understand the self-cleaning rituals in case there are any spots where they would just be slowly washed away.
I would need a second accomplice too, as female-only toilets are difficult to access. If not an accomplice, a lot of dieting and a nice frock.
Large post-its are available. Handmade free poetry dispensers. With glitter. Anything that puts anonymous poems where poetry books and magazines don’t go. Like toilets.