&@%;«~¨¨¨¨                                          ¨¨¨¨~«;%@&
#&@%;«~¨¨¨                                          ¨¨¨~«;%@&#
##&@%;«~¨¨                                          ¨¨~«;%@&##
###&@%;«~¨                                          ¨~«;%@&###
##&@%;«~¨¨                                          ¨¨~«;%@&##
#&@%;«~¨¨¨ 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.   ¨¨~«;%@&##
###&@%;«~¨                                          ¨~«;%@&###
##&@%;«~¨¨                                          ¨¨~«;%@&##
#&@%;«~¨¨¨                                          ¨¨¨~«;%@&#
&@%;«~¨¨¨¨                                          ¨¨¨¨~«;%@&
@%;«~¨¨¨¨¨                                          ¨¨¨¨¨~«;%@