..#..##.##                                          ..##.#.#.#
.##.#.#..#                                          .#.#.#.#.#
..#.#.#.##                                          .#.#.#.#.#
.##.#.#..#                                          .#.#.#.#.#
..#.#.#.##                                          .#.#.#.#.#
.##.#.#..# 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.   .#.#.#.#.#
.##.#.#..#                                          .#.#.#.#.#
..#.#.#.##                                          .#.#.#.#.#
.##.#.#..#                                          .#.#.#.#.#
..#.#.#.##                                          .#.#.#.#.#
.##.#.#..#                                          .#.#.#.#.#