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as I see a border, I either race towards it and leap over, or cross it stealthily, with a step. Neither of these two behaviours is conscious, or rooted in a premeditated desire to resist borders; it’s more like sheer stupidity. To be quite honest, once I cross a border, I fall into a deep pit of anxiety. It’s a matter, simply put, of clumsiness. Once I realized that I inevitably fail whenever I try to navigate borders, I decided to stay within the confines of my house as much as possible. And since this house has many windows, through which the neighbours and their children can easily