"Really? I would have thought you'd live in an older home."

"I have older estates, but I came here a while back to close a deal with a client who was purchasing a mint condition 13th dynasty Egyptian sarcophagus. When the man died I bought the property, tore down the standing home and built this one."

"Why this place? Other than the beautiful location obviously."

"There are two reasons. Let me show you," he said smiling. He walked upstairs to the bedroom. The entire east wall of the bedroom was a series of sliding glass panel doors that opened to the Atlantic. It was an incredible view. He slid the doors all the way back until the room was completely open on that side. The breeze ruffled the mosquito net canopy above the bed. The sound of the ocean crept in slowly but steadily until every vestige of silence had been pushed back down the stairs.

"I've had a sleeping disorder in my last three trips," he said. "Come over here." He pointed to a crescent of land that knifed out into the sea about a quarter mile up the coast. "That point," he said, "and that group of rocks down the coast form an acoustic chamber of sorts. It amplifies the sound. The constant sound helps me sleep. I actually have a recording of this sound that I keep in Zurich."

"This sleep disorder has followed you through three trips?"

"Followed is a good word to use. It only comes to me after I've started to remember my past. I never have the problem as a child."

"Was there something, some event that brought it on?"

"No. It just happened, but it brought me to this wonderful location," he said, walking through the opening to the veranda.

"What was the other reason?"

"I was courting Zohra. Her family lived in Rabat, and I knew if I could keep her close to them her decision about marriage would be easier."

I nodded then walked out to the railing and panned slowly, taking in the whole horizon. The sounds of the ocean seemed to come in stereo. 'The most beautiful place in the world,' he had a good argument for that.

"Come, let me show you your room," he said, stepping back inside.

The guest room was downstairs facing the beach. The tan sand lay just beyond the single sliding glass door. A large, mosquito net canopied bed sat in the far corner.

"Do you have a problem with mosquitoes here?"

"Not them so much. We have biting flies this time of year." I looked at him somewhat surprised. "This is Africa my friend," he said laughing. "I'll show you the best part of the house after we eat. Come on, let's see how she's doing."

The dining room was open to the kitchen. Three place settings sat around the small black lacquered table. Samas cleared his throat to get her attention. She was bent over looking into an oven.