... With the slow dip and swish of the oar, the boat proceeded into a dim, mist-shrouded past, or a future veiled from view. The sensation made me dizzy, and I gripped the wooden sides of the boat with both hands.
Halfway across the narrow strait, the boat emerged from the sea-mist. I saw the Isle of the White Rock before us, and, turning my head to look behind, saw only the fog bank rising like a solid wall from the gray-green sea. Nothing of the former world remained.
Excerpt from The Paradise War © Stephen R. Lawhead
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