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Where the birds don’t fly

We look out of the window onto a small patch of garden. The view isn’t always clear, sometimes distorted by reflections of us or the light from the room. No-one can see into our sterile box, because the glass is tinted. If they could see, would they understand?

There are no birds in the garden. They are not allowed to fly here. High above the garden is a large net to keep them out. It’s a strange world, where the birds don’t fly.

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