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#@#&¤*†-.¨ THERE'S A MAIDEN ON THE HILL. ¨.-†*¤&#@#
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#&*--....¨ GREY CERAMICS, OVERSHOWERED WITH MOSS, ¨....--*&#
#¤†-¨¨¨¨¨¨ STRETCHING TOWARD THE HORIZON. ¨¨¨¨¨¨-†¤#
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&*--¨¨¨¨¨¨ SHE MOVES HER FEET. ¨¨¨¨¨¨--*&
#@#&¤*†-.¨ THE PATCH IS WET. ¨.-†*¤&#@#
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@@#&¤*†-.¨ WITH HER SHEEP. ¨.-†*¤&#@@
##@#¤*†-.¨ AND NOONE ELSE IS AROUND. ¨.-†*¤#@##
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&&*†-.¨¨¨¨ AS HER FEET MOVE HER HAZILY FORWARD SHE ¨¨¨¨.-†*&&
###&¤*†-.¨ LOOKS AROUND, AND SPOTS ANOTHER ISLAND ¨.-†*¤&###
@@#&¤*†-.¨ ON THE SEA OF FOAM. ¨.-†*¤&#@@
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#@#&¤*†-.¨ STOPS MID-STRIDE. SHE FROWNS. ¨.-†*¤&#@#
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