Today's weird word is....
floccillation: searching for imaginary objects; picking at the bedclothes by a delirious patient.
Hoy tengo ganas de escribir en español. Llueve, llueve afuera y caen pequeñas gotitas llenas de miedo a ser evaporadas por el sol que se esconde tras el cerro. Pero en fin, la cuestión es que llueve.
I like to have umbrellas. Why? Because my parents never believed in them. It could have been raining cats and dogs and they wouldnt see the need to buy one. That's why I have some that I've collected all this years.
And what happens next? Floccillation. I search and search and search for my no longer existent favorite umbrella (s). Guess what? They take mine. And lose them.
And they hope to get away with crime... or maybe they have the belief that if the lost umbrella is not mentioned, it never existed, a la Angel's Connor.
And still... they don't believe in them. Unless they're mine.
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