You remember places, smells, sounds, blurry faceless figures of people who were once a major part of your life but now might as well not have existed. A birthday party in a strange, colourful room. A vast, bewildering out-of-town supermarket on a rainy Saturday. A garden patio on a warm summer evening, more youthful versions of your relatives chatting amongst themselves, using words you can't understand. It's unlikely you can recall any specific events, and you probably can't place them in any sort of context, but you remember that they happened. You remember how you felt. You remember being there.