Oliver Sacks' 'The man who mistook his wife for a hat' made me think how much of what I assume is inseparable to my internal experience is really something I ta

Oliver Sacks' 'The man who mistook his wife for a hat' made me think how much of what I assume is inseparable to my internal experience is really something I take for granted. I haven't finished it but Foucault's 'Archaeology of knowledge' is enlightening in many ways not least because of its precise language on transformations of fields of knowledge.