¨¨¨¨,\£###                                          ###£\,¨¨¨¨
¨,«\†£#¶##                                          ##¶#£†\«,¨
¨,«\†£#¶##                                          ##¶#£†\«,¨
¨,«\†£#¶##                                          ##¶#£†\«,¨
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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.   ##¶#£†\«,¨
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