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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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