Someone's bound to have a ready reference here for the sonnet in which the most illustrious bard, Dub Senior, writes of his love for one with dark hair and foul breath.... Wish I had it here...
When I wrote above about our attraction toward light, I wasn't really saying that we don't have attraction for the dark. Comes a raconteur before you and says, "Would ja' like to hear a story of light and sunshine and happiness, or one that's gots midnight, star-tossed lovers, liver and sech?"...You'd probably say, "Tell me the midnight 'un!" There's nothing quite so wonderful as driving through the fog in the night and suddenly seeing a buck leap over the front of your car--a demon buck quickly there, and quickly gone. And, heh, triboluminescence in the daylight just wouldn't be a big deal, even in the darkest of garderobes.
Best regards,
WordWitch
