Deep-sea mining and Queneau
It's neither the moon, nor the earth, but the deep ocean. It's neither essential metals, nor critical metals, but valuable metals. It's neither a car-size, nor a tall, but a bus-sized machine. It's neither to drain, nor to heat, but to vacuum up nodules. It's neither a sentence, nor a prison, but a trial. It's neither the Spanish, nor the English, but the Belgian Group.
It's neither catholics, nor atheists, but ecologists. They're neither disappointed, nor embarrassed, but worried. They're neither regional, nor agencies, but independent. It's neither to invite, nor to acknowledge, but to inform.
It's neither deep-sea commodity, nor deep-sea workers, but deep-sea mining. It's neither awful and incredible, nor ridiculous and unusual, but weird and unique ecosystems. It's neither adequate and subtle, nor substantial and sweet, but abundant and rich. It's neither salt, nor steel, but cobalt. It's neither specific, neither certain, but important. It's neither for electric, nor for digital, but for electronics.
It's neither abandoned, nor collected, but mined. It's neither in the roads, nor in the desert, but in the forests of the Democratic Republic of the Congo. It's neither to consider the seabed, nor to wish the seabed, but to choose the seabed.
It's neither extremists, nor farmers, but environmentalists. It's neither a voluntary, nor enforced, but a precautionary pause. It's neither optimistic, neither questionable, but an uncertain legal framework.
