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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. ¨:=;*¤£@@#
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££*;;=:¨¨¨ 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. ¨::=;*¤£@@
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#@@£¤*;=:¨ i think of the jackdaw i maimed ¨:=;*¤£@@#
#@@£¤*;=:¨ yesterday. i fear the dreaming gate. ¨:=;*¤£@@#
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