Today's writing

Maybe it’s here that I decide. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll look back and pinpoint it, say right then. Sometimes I think we only understand life in that glance over our shoulders, that backwards snippet of life that makes us realize how everything lines up. That sense is only made in the posterior, that hindsight. The sun in our eye, setting in a miasma of blood. Don’t try to interpret. Don’t attempt to flee. All you can do is blink.