Answer:
Never alive but practically extinct. How we miss the letters pressing the ribbon of ink. What is it?
My life can be measured in hours. I serve by being devoured. Thin, I am quick. Fat, I am slow. Wind is my foe.
It's like food but water kills it. What is it?
What do people want the least on their hands?
When it comes in, From sea to shore, Twenty paces you'll see, No less, no more.
Often cooked as fillet, this meat comes from an animal that swims underwater.