I started a project last year where I wrote the sunset every day. At first, I struggled with shaping my day to mark the edge of day. But then it became a sort of instinct–even when I didn’t physically get to see the sunset on an idyllic horizon, my body still felt the transition. I’d be in a conversation and stop for a tick, noting that the day had ended.

My year of every sunset ended in September, but I still find myself pulled west-ward at the end of the day.