##**%::-~, ,~-::%**##
#**:::~,,, ,,,~:::**#
####*%:-~, ,~-:%*####
##@#*%:-~, ,~-:%*#@##
##*%:--~,, ,,~--:%*##
###%:::-~, 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. ,~-:%*#@##
####*%:-~, ,~-:%*####
##@#*%:-~, ,~-:%*#@##
#@*%--,,,, ,,,,--%*@#
####*%:-~, ,~-:%*####
##@#*%:-~, ,~-:%*#@##