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At one point, as I was walking with a friend, I saw two men walking towards us, both wearing white shirts, brilliantly clear in the late-afternoon sun. I stopped and closed my eyes, and found that I could continue to watch them, seemingly still walking towards us. When I opened my eyes, I was startled to find that the men in white shirts were nowhere to be seen. They had, of course, walked past us, but I was so engrossed in what I“saw” with my eyes closed—an arrested fragment of the past—that I got a sudden shock of discontinuity. I say “arrested,” but what I saw in my mind’s eye had motion, too. The men were walking, striding, yet they remained in the center of my mind’s eye as they walked, without getting anywhere, as if on a treadmill. I had captured this bit of motion, like a film loop, which recycled in my mind even after they had gone. This had a paradoxical quality, like a snapshot of movement without any actual transit. Far worse than the loss of depth was the new limitation on the visual field. My right arm became covered in bruises from running into door frames because my brain was still reacting as if it was getting the full panorama from two eyes. I also often knocked objects off the table with my right arm. In fact, limited scope remains a problem even after 22 years, especially in crowded subway stations where people’s paths may suddenly and silently converge on my right, resulting in occasional, embarrassing collisions. 1. This is an exaggeration—I had no trouble recognizing my parents or my brothers, though I was less adept with my huge extended family and completely lost, sometimes, when I saw photographs of them. I had dozens of aunts and uncles, and when I published my memoirUncle Tungsten, I selected for the hardcover edition a photograph of another uncle, whom I mistakenly identified as Uncle Tungsten. This upset and bewildered his family, who said,“How could you make such a mistake? They look nothing like one another.” (I corrected the error in the paperback edition.) 4. Although I myself am a poor visualizer, if I shut my eyes, I can still“see” my hands moving on the piano keyboard when I play a piece that I know well. (This may happen even if I just play the piece in my mind.) I feel my hands moving at the same time, and I am not entirely sure that I can distinguish the “feeling” from the “seeing.” In this context, theyseem inseparable, and one wants to use an intersensory term like “seeing-feeling.”

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