¨,-†$%¶@##                                          ##@¶%$†-,¨
¨,-†$%%&&&                                          &&&%%$†-,¨
¨¨¨¨,††%&@                                          @&%††,¨¨¨¨
¨,-†$%&¶@#                                          #@¶&%$†-,¨
¨,-†$%&¶¶@                                          @¶¶&%$†-,¨
¨¨¨¨¨¨,-$& i follow  the  tire tracks west. they go &$-,¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨-††%¶¶ 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 ¶¶%%†,,¨¨¨
¨,-†$%&¶@@ sing beautifully.  these days it's  just @@¶&%$†-,¨
¨,-†$%&¶@@      screeches, or calls for help.       @@¶&%$†-,¨
¨,,,,††%&¶                                          ¶&%††,,,,¨
¨,-†$%&¶¶@ i   think  of   the   jackdaw  i  maimed @¶¶&%$†-,¨
¨¨¨¨--$%&¶   yesterday. i fear the dreaming gate.   ¶&%$--¨¨¨¨
¨,-†$%&&¶@                                          @¶&&%$†-,¨
¨¨¨¨¨--†%¶                                          ¶%†--¨¨¨¨¨
¨,-†$%¶@##                                          ##@¶%$†-,¨
¨¨¨¨¨--$%¶                                          ¶%$--¨¨¨¨¨
¨,-†$%&¶@#                                          #@¶&%$†-,¨