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.#.#....## #.#.#.#.#.
##.#...#.# #.#.#.#.#.
.#.#..##.# #.#.#.#.#.
##.#.#.#.# 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. #.#.#.#.#.
##.#.#.#.# #.#.#.#.#.
.#.#.#.#.# #.#.#.#.#.
##.#.#.#.# #.#.#.#.#.
.#.#.#.#.# #.#.#.#.#.
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