.^~*†¤&@##                                          ##@&¤†*~^.
..^~*†¤&@#                                          #@&¤†*~^..
.^~*†¤&@##                                          ##@&¤†*~^.
..^~*†¤&@#                                          #@&¤†*~^..
.^~*†¤&@##                                          ##@&¤†*~^.
..^~*†¤&@# 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.   ##@&¤†*~^.
..^~*†¤&@#                                          #@&¤†*~^..
.^~*†¤&@##                                          ##@&¤†*~^.
..^~*†¤&@#                                          #@&¤†*~^..
.^~*†¤&@##                                          ##@&¤†*~^.
..^~*†¤&@#                                          #@&¤†*~^..