In the picture she is younger than I am now, would have to be since he’s in a uniform and she’s without a ring. She stands between his arms, uses her own to lean against the railing of a ship -- the spray of moving water barely showing down below. Must be the ferry boat from Auckland out to Devonport, since I can see the lighthouse in the background of the shot: a seaside town, a sunny afternoon, a Yank, a Hershey bar, a stolen cigarette, a hand beneath a hem, a sigh, then back across in time for evening tea, except her eyes are narrowed like a channel waiting for the tide, peering not at Devonport, or even back at him, but out into the harbor mouth.
Ali Fischer