All right. . . Johan’s been telling me I need to put the following quotation into Néablog. I accept no responsibility for it, however.

“[. . .] There’s dead metal, that’s angel silver, that won’t rust or pit or tarnish; and dead cloths like this; and plastics like dead wood that won’t dry-rot or get wormy or split. And strangest of all: the angels could make dead food. Food that never gets stale, never rots, never spoils. I eat it.”
“I have food like that. I smoke it.”
“No, no! Not that evil pink stuff! I mean food, food you eat. [. . .]“
John Crowley, Engine Summer, Bantam Science Fiction 1980, p 182