Beyond that was grey mist.

Inside my circle I could see the sand quite plainly and Denton's footprints.

If I moved a little to the left, the wash of the waters would lap under the edge of that grey curtain.
If I moved to the right, I came to cliffs.

The nearer I drew to them, the farther up I could see, but I could never see to the top.

It used to amuse me to move this area of consciousness about to see what I could find.