My memory, too, has become a strange shape-shifter, playing hide-and-seek with the obvious. I lose a number or a name for fifteen or twenty minutes and then it returns, so indelible that I can’t quite understand how it was ever gone. Word retrieval is a bit of a challenge, which would be less important if I didn’t have to build a house of sentences almost every day. Conspicuous. Perfunctory. Malfeasance. They hang in the air somewhere to the left of my conscious brain, where my mind could pick them up if my mind had peripheral vision. I can feel the shape of them, the syllables, usually the
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