Degrees of IntimacyChapter 3 Tangiers
The waves crashed against the jetty. The same waves, Marla reflected, that might have crashed against the Gibraltan shore on the other side of the straits, waves that were as much Atlantic as they were Mediterranean. Each wave fierce and restful at the same time, built up slowly and steadily out at sea to break sometimes on themselves and sometimes against the concrete jetty that projected into the open water. She glanced down at the postcard on her lap, the same one she'd started writing...