text_original: "Once I was like Allie Lee!" she whispered. "Not so many years ago." And the dark tide of men, the hurry and din, the wind and dust, the flickering lights, all retreated spectral  like to the background of a mind returned to youth, hope, love, home.
text_transcription: ONCE I WAS LIKE ALI SHE WHISPERED NOT SO MANY YEARS AGO AND THE DARK TIDE OF MEN TO HURRY AND BEND THE WIND AND DUST THE FLICKERING LIGHTS ALL RETREATING SPECTRAL LIKE TO THE BACKGROUND OF A MIND RETURNED TO YOUTH HOPE LOVE HOME
phonemes: "wˈʌns aɪ wʌz lˈaɪk ˈæli lˈiː!" ʃiː wˈɪspɚd. "nˌɑːt sˌoʊ mˈɛni jˈɪɹz ɐɡˈoʊ." ænd ðə dˈɑːɹk tˈaɪd ʌv mˈɛn, ðə hˈɜːɹi ænd dˈɪn, ðə wˈɪnd ænd dˈʌst, ðə flˈɪkɚɹɪŋ lˈaɪts, ˈɔːl ɹᵻtɹˈiːɾᵻd spˈɛktɹəl lˈaɪk tə ðə bˈækɡɹaʊnd əvə mˈaɪnd ɹᵻtˈɜːnd tə jˈuːθ, hˈoʊp, lˈʌv, hˈoʊm.