I think of it whenever my mind happens to go blank for a moment.

It was strange.
For a second he could swear he smelled the Sound, like he was at a marina.
"That's strange," he thought.
And it felt like he was breathing cold air into his lungs. Cold, salty air.
But he couldn't hear the ocean. Or see it, really. Just gray.
"Wait a minute," he thought. "We're not near the ocean anyway, are we?"
When did he last see the ocean? "Was it when I landed? In Olympia?"
He wanted to look around. He tried to lift his head but couldn't.
He tried to smell the sea again. All he got this time was wet concrete.
Wet concrete and glue. "That's strange," he thought. "Maybe it's the drugs."
Come to think of it, where was he? "Where am I?"
This was troubling. He should be panicking. But he wasn't.
In fact, he felt rather detached. "Maybe it's the drugs," he thought.
He tried to move his hands but couldn't.
He tried to move his legs but couldn't.
"Where am I?" he thought. "And who is the man who is keeping me here?"