Articles by Paul Broks
We know where the self is and roughly how it is constructed. So why can't I find Mary in the wreckage of her brain?
Are we more than the sum of our memories?
I am watching a man whose brain is slowly collapsing. He and his wife are trying to enjoy the summer twilight. But he will dance like a puppet to his death
The brain contains infinite space. This is my area of expertise, yet I feel the awe of ignorance