¤¤¤¨¤¨¤¨¤¤ ¤¨¨¤¨¤¨¨¤¤
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¤¤¨¨¨¨¤¨¤¤ ¨¤¨¨¤¨¨¤¨¨
¨¤¨¨¨¤¤¤¨¨ ¤¤¨¤¤¨¤¤¨¤
¤¤¨¨¤¨¨¤¨¨ i follow the tire tracks west. they go ¨¤¤¨¤¤¨¤¤¤
¨¤¨¤¤¨¤¤¨¨ parallel with the railroad, with its ¤¨¤¤¨¤¤¨¨¨
¤¤¤¨¤¤¨¤¨¨ endless mirrors looking kinda oily. an ¤¤¨¤¤¨¤¨¨¨
¨¨¤¤¨¤¤¤¨¤ incredible power bound there... there's ¨¤¤¨¤¤¤¨¨¤
¨¤¨¤¤¨¨¤¤¤ a wire fence to separate the two roads. ¤¨¤¤¨¨¤¨¤¤
¤¤¤¨¤¨¤¨¨¨ ¤¤¨¤¨¤¤¤¨¤
¨¨¤¤¤¤¤¨¨¤ even though there's a foggy quality to ¨¤¤¤¤¨¨¤¤¨
¨¤¨¨¨¨¤¨¤¤ the air, the path i follow is glowing. ¤¨¨¨¤¨¤¨¤¨
¤¤¨¨¨¤¤¤¨¨ a yellow-green moss has taken hold ¤¨¨¤¤¤¤¤¤¨
¨¤¨¨¤¨¨¤¨¤ where the machines who made these ¤¨¤¨¨¨¨¨¤¤
¤¤¨¤¤¨¤¤¤¤ tracks once disturbed the clover field. ¤¤¤¨¨¨¨¤¨¤
¨¤¤¨¤¤¨¨¨¤ ¨¨¤¨¨¨¤¤¤¨
¤¨¤¤¨¤¨¨¤¨ we're off the season when the birds ¨¤¤¨¨¤¨¨¤¨
¤¤¨¤¤¤¨¤¤¨ sing beautifully. these days it's just ¤¨¤¨¤¤¨¤¤¤
¨¤¤¨¨¤¤¨¤¤ screeches, or calls for help. ¤¤¤¤¨¤¤¨¨¨
¤¨¤¨¤¨¤¤¨¤ ¨¨¨¤¤¨¤¨¨¨
¤¤¤¤¤¤¨¤¤¨ i think of the jackdaw i maimed ¨¨¤¨¤¤¤¨¨¤
¨¨¨¨¨¤¤¨¤¨ yesterday. i fear the dreaming gate. ¨¤¤¤¨¨¤¨¤¨
¨¨¨¨¤¨¤¤¤¨ ¤¨¨¤¨¤¤¤¤¨
¨¨¨¤¤¤¨¨¤¨ ¤¨¤¤¤¨¨¨¤¨
¨¨¤¨¨¤¨¤¤¤ ¤¤¨¨¤¨¨¤¤¨
¨¤¤¨¤¤¤¨¨¨ ¨¤¨¤¤¨¤¨¤¨
¤¨¤¤¨¨¤¨¨¨ ¤¤¤¨¤¤¤¤¤¨