"Twice a day for ten minutes at any point in the world, barring knowledge of cardinal directions, is a span of time when no one can tell if the sun is rising or falling, the night coming or going. The sky takes an indigo-turning-black, but the eyes can still make out every detail of everything around them, like nighttime in the movies, though viscerally natural. It is a transition; a heartbeat as the Earth blinks or opens its eyes, draws back the veil, and reveals a world cloaked in shadow, plain as day."

I wrote this earlier today as a part of the story I'm working on. I've been fascinated by the long hours I've put in that afford me the ability to witness this unusual event: that for ten minutes, dawn or dusk, you can't tell if the sun is coming or going. It's an experience. If you remember this around one of those times, just stand there and try to imagine the sun doing the opposite of what it should. The world can turn upside down if you try it hard enough.