A surprising juxtaposition of the seventeenth century with classical times.
The experience of stroke seems to fade away for a while and then find a way to remind me of how real and present it is. Sometimes I just can't remember parts of my past. It's as if parts of my experience just vanished, and this seems especially true for objects that (I think) are kept in parts of my house I couldn't use for a long time. I wanted today to perform a simple task, I thought, but I couldn't find stuff I thought I had to do it, couldn't make printers and computers do the things I wanted even if I had the supplies I thought I had.