Blink
Sunset, sunrise. Time trickles by, each moment infinitesimally infinite. Tick-
Tock -the seconds rock my mind gently, lulled into blinking, seeing only an infinity in intervals.
What am I to do?
I remember watching the sunrise: orange and yellow searing away the inky grey colour palette Nyx leaves behind. I remember the blasted shadows, retreating, shrinking into shades of shadow, a pale reflection of the unlighted.
Now night and day run together, the shadows grow and shrink as light comes and goes. Now no distinction, only running time.
I remember the slant, the sun's angle at that moment as it ascended, I remember the instant all seemed day, and night scurried away. I don't recall the moment after, or the moment before, but I recall the moment in between.
Of course, I always wonder whether there was a moment, or if I simply blinked around it, created a time-bit with lazy eyes.
Not that it matters.
What I can perceive, that's all I can write, all I can say, all I can grasp to repeat.
I can imagine.
I can imagine the moment before, the ink blots clinging onto light posts for dear life, screaming silently, and then the second after, when, suddenly, there are only shadows of shadow.
I'll imagine it then. That world lost to my blinks. The spaces in between my infinity in intervals.
And so I walk, every step contrary to the one he takes, his decisions opposite to the ones I make.
Here I order coffee;There I order tea.
Here, I smile; There, I grimace.
Which world has a more satisfied me?
It doesn't matter. I can only imagine the other, the opposite, the shadow blasted away in a blink.
