Multiple carats thrown over-board by an heiress on a cruise, who found her hubby on the upper deck with a waitress?
Or maybe it was just one Bacardi too many and it slipped from her slim finger as she staggered and caught herself on the rail of the ship–
What a pity!
But the insurance,
and all the other jewels!
She’ll have something else glittering on her finger by the time she’s sobered up, so it’s not really a loss.

Is there a diamond ring in the Mediterranean for me?
I stand in the turf, in January, gazing at the dusky hills of Morocco, Africa, just there, not far, really, on the other-side-of-the-sea, until my feet ache to the bone, with cold.
Africa.
Huge, huge mysterious continent, unimaginable turmoil, right there! And packed full of diamonds, stones, they say, that people die for.
My feet sink in the sand as the waves pull out.
People die for so many things; money; government; religion; love; power; selfishness; ambition; passion; revenge; territory; sex;
Diamonds.
Could there be a diamond ring in the Mediterranean for me?
Doubtful.
But like every other fool, I keep hoping anyway.

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