sunflowers or roses? skirts or dresses? books or movies? long sleeves or short sleeves? quiet libraries or crowded coffee shops? sweet or sour? city or countryside? Nutella or peanut butter? romance or drama movies? pictures of flowers or pictures of the sky? skin care or hair care? watermelon or honey melon? horses or ponies?
H.P Lovecraft, 1936, The Shadow Over Innsmouth: I cannot even begin to describe the abominable results of the unspeakable unions between humans and the monstrosities that lurk in the depths of the Stygian abyss. Our language is mercifully unable to convey the horror spawned by these crimes against all which is good and right in the world, the awful truth made evident by those bulging, unblinking eyes and nauseating rubbery skin.
Guillermo Del Toro, 2017, The Shape Of Water: So, there’s this woman and there’s this fishman. They’re gonna love each other and fuck, just fyi.
Although Yinsen had remained vigorous with his ablutions,
Stark had let himself go. This had nothing to do with any sense of giving in to
misery or despair, as might have once been the case. Instead, for Tony Stark,
this was business as usual. In the normal course of his normal life, once Stark
became caught up in the throes of creation, personal hygiene went out the
window. It usually fell to the disembodied promptings of Jarvis, or failing
that, the corporeal prodding from Pepper, to remind Stark that he should think
about changing the clothes he’d been wearing for three days or maybe run a
razor across the bushy growth that was accruing on his face.
After the first day or so, Yinsen had simply taken to
staying the hell out of Stark’s way. He had even stopped asking Stark if he was
hungry since he tended not to receive answers. Instead, every so often, he
would just put out food for Stark, who would - sooner or later - eat it without
looking at it or even noticing that he was doing so.