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1 " Ow!" Aideen suddenly hollered which earned a bark from my bedroom." Go back asleep you fat shite!" Aideen shouted when I swiped the antiseptic wipe over a small cut above her eye.I hissed at her, " Leave him alone, he isn't fat. He just has a thick coat!" Aideen laughed through her hissing. " Yeah, a thick coat of blubber." I gave her a firm look. " Don't slag me baby when I'm cleanin' you up. Me finger might slip and jam into your eye. "
2 " Mia stood between the bed and the broken window, holding an active plasma blade at waist-height in front of her. A thick coat of blood stained the plasma nearly from hilt to tip, hissing as it dribbled from blade to floor.“Are you all right?”Mia gave her a wan, distant smile. “It’s okay. I’ve done it before. "
― G.S. Jennsen , Relativity (Aurora Resonant #1; Amaranthe #7)
3 " When I lived on the Bluff in Yokohama I spend a good deal of my leisure in the company of foreign residents, at their banquets and balls. At close range I was not particularly struck by their whiteness, but from a distance I could distinguish them quite clearly from the Japanese. Among the Japanese were ladies who were dressed in gowns no less splendid than the foreigners’, and whose skin was whiter than theirs. Yet from across the room these ladies, even one alone, would stand out unmistakably from amongst a group of foreigners. For the Japanese complexion, no matter how white, is tinged by a slight cloudiness. These women were in no way reticent about powdering themselves. Every bit of exposed flesh—even their backs and arms—they covered with a thick coat of white. Still they could not efface the darkness that lay below their skin. It was as plainly visible as dirt at the bottom of a pool of pure water. Between the fingers, around the nostrils, on the nape of the neck, along the spine—about these places especially, dark, almost dirty, shadows gathered. But the skin of the Westerners, even those of a darker complexion, had a limpid glow. Nowhere were they tainted by this gray shadow. From the tops of their heads to the tips of their fingers the whiteness was pure and unadulterated. Thus it is that when one of us goes among a group of Westerners it is like a grimy stain on a sheet of white paper. The sight offends even our own eyes and leaves none too pleasant a feeling. "
― Jun'ichirō Tanizaki , In Praise of Shadows