Sometimes my tics suddenly pluck a word out of obscurity and through tone, pronunciation, and obsessive repetition, turn it into something surreal.

Today, “mottled” was in for this treatment.

It’s not a word I’ve ever given much thought to, let alone said. But during a ‘ticcing fit’ earlier I noticed Lottie’s lovely tortoiseshell glasses. When I’d recovered enough to speak I complimented her on them and she described their pattern as ‘mottled’.

It was like a red rag to a bull. Our conversation descended into mottled anarchy as I repeated the word over and over again. Lottie and I both found this hilarious and my tics found it all very exciting.

I love surreal moments like this and the strange relationship I have with language.

It’s unlikely that the word ‘mottled’ has ever caused this much joy before.

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