&&&&@*:~,, ,,~:*@&&&&
&@:~,,,,,, ,,,,,,~:@&
@@#&@*:~,, ,,~:*@@@
###&@*:~,, ,,~:*@##
##@#&@*:~, ,~:*@@##
#@#&@*:~,, ###:~ ~:### ,,~:*@@#
&@:~~~~,,, ~::####::~ ~::####::~ ,,,~~~~:@&
&@::,,,,,, ~~ ~:######:~ ~~ ,,,,,,::@&
#@#&@*:~,, ~~~ ~~ ~~ ~~~ ,,~:*@@#
###&@*:~,, ~~~~ ~~~~ ,,~:*@##
#@#&@*:~,, ~~~ Street Lights... ~~~ ,,~:*@@#
@#@@@*:~,, ~~~~ For Some Reason, ~~~~ ,,~:*@@@#@
#@#&@*:~,, ~~ The Street Lights Always Have A ~~ ,,~:*@@#
##&*~~,,,, Particular Pattern. It Starts With A ,,,,~~*#
&**::::~,, Row Of White Lights, Then It'S Joined ,,~::::**&
@&@*:,,,,, By A Red Row, Then The Blue Ones, And ,,,,,:*@&@
#@#&@*:~,, So On. And Then, There'S A Second Row, ,,~:*@@#
##&@:::~,, Almost Mirroring The First. ,,~:::@#
@&&&@*:~,, ,,~:*@&&&@
#@#&@*:~,, I'Ve Been Counting How Many Of Each ,,~:*@@#
&&&@@*:~,, Shape There Is. ,,~:*@@&&&
##@#&*:~,, I Think It'S A Kind Of Angel Language. ,,~:*@##
@@#&@*:~,, Angel Bodies Made Of Light, Running ,,~:*@@@
#@@:~~,,,, Along The Streets Even At Night. ,,,,~~:@@#
&@@:,,,,,, ,,,,,,:@@&
#@@**~,,,, ~~~~ ,,,,~**@@#
@&&*~,,,,, ~~~~ ~~~~ ,,,,,~*&&@
###&@*:~,, ~~~ ~~~ ,,~:*@##
@##&@*:~,, ~~~~ ~~~~ ,,~:*@#@
@@#&@*:~,, ~~~ ~~~ ,,~:*@@@
#@#&@*:~,, ~~~~ ~~~~ ,,~:*@@#
###&@*:~,, ,,~:*@##
&&&*:~,,,, Like They'Re Looking For Something. ,,,,~:*&&&
@##&@*:~,, ,,~:*@#@
##@#&@*~,, ,,~*@@##
#@#&@*:~,, ,,~:*@@#
##@:~~,,,, ,,,,~~:@##
#@#&@*:~,, ,,~:*@@#