I spent most of the last few years floating along, which is why I feel like, at the cusp of the new year, I have been trying to hold on to my memories.

Here is a photo from three and a half months ago—a nondescript body of water, though I’ve divulged the location—and I’m trying to remember what that day in September was like (cold and grey, clam chowder, the freshest oysters, Ragnar Kjartansson’s The Visitors, beer pretzels) and all I can come up with is a list of some parts of it.

I still can’t explain how the sea and the sound from the screens moved me, a hundred and ten days later, but I still remember what it feels like.

2015 will be dedicated to remembering and keeping things whole.