There's debate on the spelling

aah such embraceable speakers billowing diaphanous vibrations. These delicate electrics march upon ear canals utterly submissive. Droll licks mesmerise to shift comprehensions all a-haze in stop-motion avalanche of almost-grasped recollections or recognitions. It's so slow and tremeloguous encroachment shivers in reverse cascades up the spine, thoroughly unfamiliar yet coursing mute spasms, effervescent semi-conscious reflex. Magicians, willful witchery. I care not to keep up or track of the undulating noted matrices; too many levels of invocation and all with guile enough to maintain elusivity. Upon the fade of the audible come the physical tender-shook, the in-vain shudder of hopeful discharge... but there's no release, the energy lingers for want of an earth. The spells have hooked beyond the tactile, far beyond the comprehensible. Luckily there's no time to recap before the next tide surges in to envelop and distill bewilderment to levels far fathoms beyond reason... and not a moment too soon. "Behold, the sisters of mercy!"

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