A picture in 100 words:
Just then, the mist lifted. When before the twin towers had been lost within obscuring particles of low-hanging moisture, they now stood clear, soaring mightily above the deck that extended kilometres across the treacherous strait. Though the distant dark land mass separated sea from sky on the horizon, every square millimetre of the scene before me was coloured the same, differing only in lustre and hue.
From our position below the splendour of modern engineering, Jude let out a low whistle. I was equally impressed, but agreed that travelling to-and-fro each day would be atrocious. What with the ridiculously-expensive toll.