▞▘ ▛▙ ▛▞ ▛▟
▝▛▜▞ ▙▚ ▝▖ ▛▛ ▞▛▛ ▞▘ ▛▙ ▛▞ ▛▟ ▝▛▚ ▝▖ ▛▛ ▛▛ ▞▘ ▛▙ ▛▞ ▛▟ ▝▛▚ ▝▖ ▛▛▜▞ ▙▚ ▝▖ ▛
▙▚ ▝▖ ▛▛ ▞▘ ▛▙ ▛▞ ▛▟ ▝▛▚ ▝▖ ▛▛ ▞▛ ▞▘ ▛▙▜▞ ▙▚ ▝▖ ▛▛ ▞▘ ▛▙▙ ▛▞ ▛▟ ▝▛▜▞ ▙▚ ▝▖ ▛▛ ▞
Strip malls and ▘▚▞▞ ▟ ▘ stretches of forest that still remain ▘▚▞▞▘▚▞▞ ▘▚ crunched up into splinters, and soaked in oil between the road dividers.
There's no rhyme or reason, only tangled clocks.
▙▚ ▝▖ ▛▛ ▞▘ ▛▙ ▛▞ ▛▟ ▝▛▚ ▝▖ ▛▛ ▞▛ ▞▘ ▛▙▜▞ ▙▚ ▝▖ ▛▛ ▞▘ ▛▙▙ ▛▞ ▛▟ ▝▛▜▞ ▙▚ ▝▖ ▛▛ ▞
▛▙ ▛▞ ▛▟ ▝▛▚ ▝▖ ▛▛ ▛▙ ▛▞ ▛▟ ▝▛▚ ▝▖ ▛▛ ▙▚ ▝▖ ▛▛ ▞▘ ▛▙ ▛▞ ▛▟ ▝▛▚ ▝▖ ▛▛ ▞▛ ▗▜ ▚▞ ▜▞▘ ▛▙ ▛▞ ▛▟ ▝▛▜▞ ▙▚ ▝▖ ▛▛ ▞▘ ▛▙▜▞ ▙▚ ▝▖ ▛▛ ▞▘ ▛▙
▛ ▗▜ ▚▞ ▜▞ ▙▚ ▝▖ ▛▛ ▞▘▞▘ ▛▘ ▛▙▜▞ ▙▚ ▝▖ ▛▛ ▞▘ ▛▙
▙▚ ▝▖ ▛▛ ▞▘ ▛▙ ▛▞ ▛▟ ▝▛▚ ▝▖ ▛▛ ▞▛ ▗▜ ▚▞ ▜▞▘ ▛▙ ▛▞ ▛▟ ▝▛▜▞ ▙▚ ▝▖ ▛▛ ▞▘ ▛▙▜▞ ▙▚ ▝▖ ▛▛ ▞▘ ▛▙▙ ▛▞ ▛▟ ▝▛▜▞ ▙▚ ▝▖ ▛▛ ▞
▙▚ ▝▖ ▛▛ ▞▘ ▛▙ ▛▞ ▛▟ ▝▛▚ ▝▖ ▛▛ ▞▛ ▗▜ ▚▞ ▜▞▘ ▛▙ ▛▞ ▛▟ ▝▛▜▞ ▙▚ ▝▖ ▛▛ ▞▘ ▛▙▜▞ ▙▚ ▝▖ ▛▛ ▞▘ ▛▙▙ ▛▞ ▛▟ ▛▛ ▞▛ ▗▜ ▚▞ ▜▞▘ ▛▙ ▛▞ ▛▟ ▝▛▜▞ ▙▚ ▝▖ ▛▛ ▞▘ ▛▙▜▞
▛▙ ▛▞ ▛ ▛▟ ▝▛▚ ▝▖
▝▛▚ ▝
▛▞ ▛▟▞▘ ▛▙ ▞▘ ▛▙ ▞▘ ▛▙ ▟▞▘ ▛▙ ▞▘ ▛▙ ▞▘ ▛▙ ▞▖▝▞▞▖▝▞
return to Goodbye Strangers