A man stands by the shore without memory. He gazes out at the ocean of floating objects spreading outwards further than the eye can see. The fragments that are the furthest away always seem clearer and more familiar. He waddles through the water, trying desperately to get closer, but the objects always crumble away and fade to white when they are within touch. 

Dawn comes and the man is exhausted. He sits down on the muddy shore. For the first time, he looks down at his arms and legs, and realizes that he was the one that was white - the colorful fragments were merely stained by his own blank touch.