A Paradox of Memory

I haven't been to the Viewpoint yet today. I may make it still, but it's getting late, so I'm not sure. When I don't go to the Viewpoint physically, I go there mentally. It's interesting to think about how much we know about something familiar. How accurately do we remember it? I think I know so much about the Viewpoint, but every time I go there, I notice something I've never noticed before. I don't just mean things that come and go, like the constant stream of visitors--human, canine and other--nor the seasonal fluctuations in the plant life of the park, nor the endless shifting of the weather; I also have in mind spatial relationships and other features of the Viewpoint that are constant. How little we recall of the things we look at every day. What's odd is how much better we are at recognizing them than really understanding how they're put together. This is a paradox.