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a large audience watching me, I was now in front of the diving board.

"Come on..." the instructor said. I advanced with the spirit of one who goes to the guillotine and while all around were taking pictures, I looked for my mother in the crowd to probably give her the last farewell with my hands intact. My mother, unaware of everything, smiled cheerfully at me. And so did Mary and Juan.

I leaned over to the bucket, caught a fish, held out my arm, and closed my eyes. As I was covered in spray I felt a slight pull, opened my eyes and saw that the fish was gone and my hand was still all there. I caught another fish, stretched out my arm again, and closed my eyes again. I then decided to face reality with more courage and to watch what the dolphins were doing.

They darted, dived and plunged back, very fast and cheerful, as I had seen them do so many times on the ocean. As soon as they saw me bending over to the bucket they gathered under the diving board; as soon as I stretched my arm they projected straight into the air, at various times because it was not easy to get so high and to the exact point where the fish was. It was wonderful to see the dolphins flying, but I was happy when the fish were finished. While the management handed me a Master-Showjumping certificate with my name, a red ribbon and a gold seal, I doubted that I had not been chosen by chance among so many visitors. Papa had certainly preordained everything, without suspecting that my amusement would be spoiled by the stupid joke of the instructor because, stupid of me to fall for it, now I only understood that the mild and very precise dolphins would never have torn off my fingers.

At Marineland I had my typically American breakfast in a large bright room where glasses of milk, mugs of coffee, plates full of corn-flakes and fragrant...