This is how it started: Falling into the spaces between words, between ideas, between sentences. An infinite elbowing out of time, and time and space between. Gaps upon gaps upon gaps upon gaps. Reaching for the next sentence and then, the next word just… fell.
What are we to do when the organ responsible for ordering our experience of the world is compromised? Brain injury inserts doubt and chaos into narrative, thwarting our desire to have events resolve in a knowable story. In her essay for Guernica, Eva Hagberg Fisher walks the strange middle ground of narrating brain injury, at once working doggedly to make sense of what happened and at other times, folding into its uneasy logic.