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Where Is The Key?

It is our first day of the 3rd lockdown in France, but it feels very different to the first one in spring 2020. This lockdown is not a hard one. I can go out in a radius of 10 km as long as I want and have to stay at home only by night.   Nevertheless, the meaning of the garden gate to the street has changed. It divides the inside and the outside, the virus-free world and the contaminated one, the supposedly safe existence and unsafe movements. Does my dog see it the same way when he barks at other dogs at the gate? Unlike our increasingly polarising way of debating on social media, I recognise more subtle differentiations in Bilbo's language that often escape my crude perception of humans.   The yard gate does not even serve as a territorial boundary for him - if he wants to defend something, his private space extends to one metre onto the street. I, as a human, secure it with a key and, during storms, additionally with a cord. Fences, gates have displaced the once magical hag-hed

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