Staring out the window of my back porch.
I’d guess that the washed out wooden fence separating neighbor from neighbor would be easier to breach than its metal-framed gate. The one with the concrete stumps and rusted, broken latches.
What if only the gate were left standing?
A defined place from which to enter, when even the physical barriers between us no longer really mattered. An explicit demarcation of personality and self-interest