She whispered in my ear, “You’re right. We should just stay here forever.” I felt like we were far from Paris, in a small Mediterranean port. At the same time every morning, we followed the path down to the beach. I still remember the hotel’s address: 2, rue du Grand-Prieuré. Hôtel Hivernia. All throughout the bleak years that followed, whenever someone would ask me my address or telephone number, I would say, “You can always write to me at the Hôtel Hivernia, 2, rue Grand-Prieuré. It will be forwarded to me.” I really should go and pick up all the letters that have been waiting there for me
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