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were part of this.
    In beautiful Topolobampo the night before I chose to take the ferry to Canción I witnessed an American fight a shark in a tank of water. I walked alone but with families toward the lights of a circus tent at the north of the city. The whites of the eyes of the children tainted beneath strung lights painted different colors. The paint curling on the bulbs above long eyelashes. At the entrance to the tent an organ grinder with one arm stood tall and thin with no emotion on his face. He wore a tattered blue coat with shiny brass buttons down the front. The cuff of the one sleeve pinned flat to his chest. He kept the organ pressed tight against his body to be able to crank the arm into its tune. Only I was tall enough to look down into his eyes.
    Bienvenidos niños. He said flatly.
    Ahead a man sat behind black painted wood dowels confined to some cell. After giving him my money I had only enough left for the ferry to Canción for the next morning. It was a foolish decision but I had seen posters of this blond American and the shark on the walls of Topolobampo and felt a great desire to see the fighting for myself. Into a cloth hallway I passed with the children and their parents. Framed paintings hanging from woven gold cord. The wood frames lightened by the sun carried on the backs of wagons traveling throughout Mexico. There was one of a blindfolded knife thrower. A man bound in chains underwater. The American with a knife clenched in his teeth. I stayed to the shadows at the back of the tent while the others found their seats. All of us excited by what was to come.
    Soon the lights dimmed. Two young women walked into the center of the ring balancing on their tiptoes on heavy wood balls. Later there was much applause while a knife thrower threw his knives at one of these young women after the other had tied her to a wall and then placed the blindfold on the thrower to some music. In the bleachers children ate roasted peanuts their mothers helped crack from warm shells. Fathers yawned in the suffocating warmth of the tent.
    After these acts two colorfully dressed young men and the organ grinder pushed a large glass tank to the center of the ring. Hazy water sloshed over the coping made of brass. At the sight of the shark the audience inhaled together. The organ grinder went to the shadows and soon the music from a dull needle set onto an uneven record played a scratchy waltz. The blond American came into the ring and circled the tank. He wore a robe of purple velvet. Walking slowly with the knife from the painting in his teeth for all to admire. The children in the audience looked to their mothers. The shark behind in its tank with its eyes dark pressed against the dirty glass. The wind off the sea outside ran fingernails along the canvas tent like ghosts of poor children begging to come in.
    We watched as the American climbed a short ladder the organ grinder brought from the shadows. At the top of the ladder the American handed the robe to the tall one armed man and then lowered himself into the tank behind the shark. Above this a string of blue light globes made the Americans skin more pale than he already was. His hair white.
    Before the Americans head went under he took the knife from his teeth but his hand failed him then. He did not have the knife secured and it dropped to the bottom of the tank. Falling over itself the blade flashing blue light. The audience exhaled together as the American and the shark began circling each other. The American hit the shark in the nose with his fist while treading water and trying to dive for the knife but stopped when the shark was near and biting at him but missing. Children wiggled from their mothers fingers trying to cover their eyes. Several times the American dove for the knife only to come up for air. Hitting the shark to keep it distant.
    When he finally beat the shark back enough to be able to have the knife in his hand the American stabbed the shark