¨-~/†£¤@## ##@¤£†/~-¨
¨¨¨¨¨~/£¤@ @¤£/~¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨-~††¤@ @¤††~-¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨~†††£¤ ¤£†††~¨¨¨¨
¨-~/†£¤@## ##@¤£†/~-¨
¨-~/†£¤@## 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. ##@¤£†/~-¨
¨-~/†£¤@@# #@@¤£†/~-¨
¨-~/†£¤@## ##@¤£†/~-¨
¨-~///†¤@# #@¤†///~-¨
¨-~/†£¤@## ##@¤£†/~-¨
¨-~/†£¤@## ##@¤£†/~-¨