From China Mieville's short story "Covehithe", in his collection "Three Moments of an Explosion."
For context "the thing" here refers to an oil rig walking out of the ocean where it had sunk years before.
In the glow of the thing's own flame they saw edificial flanks, the concrete and rust of them, the iron of the pylon barnacled, shaggy with benthic growth now lank gelatinous bunting.
The information density here is unmatched. The precision of language. The rhythm. The reverence when describing a fairly silly thing (oil rig walks out of the ocean to lay eggs on the shore, like the world's worst turtle). And just... say it out loud! It's fun!
