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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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