When a tiger has to spend all their time in the small travelling cage of a circus, only getting out of it for shows, they walk in tight circles. They go round and round, always the same amount of steps, the same turning, the same number of steps back, turning again, repeating that over and over; day in, day out. The cage is so small it only allows for two and a half steps. Turning, going back, always treading on the same spots and making the same movements in every round. Pacing up and down. Every day, every night, every year.
   Then one day the tiger gets sold to a zoo. The cage is taken away, replaced by an enclosure that's many times bigger than the old cage but only a fraction of a wild tiger's territory. There are even some trees, bushes and grass.  
   The tiger walks in tight circles. They go round and round, always the same amount of steps, turning, the same number of steps back, turning again; day in, day out. The ground becomes barren and wasted underfoot. Turning, going back, always treading on the same spots and making the same movements in every round. Pacing up and down. Every day, every night, every year. Two and a half steps.