¨¨¨¨¨¨¨~†@                                          @†~¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨¨.:†@                                          @†:.¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨.~:†@@¶##                                          ##¶@@†:~.¨
¨.~:†@@@@#                                          #@@@@†:~.¨
¨.~:†@@¶##                                          ##¶@@†:~.¨
¨¨¨¨¨¨.:@¶ 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.   ¶@@†::.¨¨¨
¨.~:†††@¶#                                          #¶@†††:~.¨
¨.~:†@@¶##                                          ##¶@@†:~.¨
¨¨¨¨¨..:@@                                          @@:..¨¨¨¨¨
¨.~:†@@¶##                                          ##¶@@†:~.¨
¨¨¨¨¨¨.~†@                                          @†~.¨¨¨¨¨¨