And Julio writes:
Oh, Maga, whenever I saw a woman who looked like you a clear, sharp pause would close in like a deafening silence, collapsing like a wet umbrella being closed. An umbrella, precisely. Maybe you remember, Maga, that old umbrella we sacrificed in a gully in Montsouris Park one sunset on a cold March day. We threw it away because you had found it half broken in the Place de la Concorde and you had got a lot of use from it, especially for digging into people’s ribs on the metro or on a bus as you lethargically thought about the design the flies on the ceiling made. There was a cloudburst that afternoon and you tried to open your umbrella in the park in a proud sort of way, but your hands got all wrapped up in a catastrophe of cold lightning shafts and black clouds, strips of torn cloth falling from the ruins of unfrocked spokes, and we both laughed like madmen as we got soaked, thinking that an umbrella found in a public square ought to die a noble death in a park and not get involved in the mean cycle of trash can or gutter.
And next:
Definition of an accumulation point: If a set S is contained in a space Rn, and the point x pertains to Rn, then x shall be the accumulation point of S if every n-open ball centered in x, B(x), contains at least one point of S different to x.
Examples of accumulation points include the grounding vertex points of objects, such as the tip of a lightning rod or of an abandoned umbrella.