The silky silt bubbles to the top vigorously after an hour of rigorous tumult. Frothy mountains of bubbling crystal cascade down the filter chain until none is left but the silver threads that tie the veil. Patience was a fools game until the path became as clear as the icy bath that precluded such a glorious murk.
Now only time will tell the sticky paste to gather into a mass as it is sifted from the solution. Now there will be no problems. Joy has already inhabited this place through the method, understanding will follow the result.
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