Now bulldozers constructing an immense new oil refinery have crunched through the road to the beach settlement, leaving it isolated from the outside world. Shutters hanging crazily askew, the bistros and "discos" and "dancings", where once Massu's centurions chatted up the local girls, are sliding aimlessly into the sea, leaving a spaghetti-like tangle of reinforcing rods protruding from the ephemeral prefabs. By some miracle, here and there geraniums still flower out of untended window-boxes. But perhaps even by now Plage Jeanne d'Arc has disappeared forever beneath the pounding surf — more immemorably than either Roman Timgad or Tipasa.

Horne, Alistair, A Savage War of Peace- Alge…, loc. 1692