Actually, I know there are. There is a breeding population in the Sicilian Channel, where the water is warm and rich. That’s one of the things about all those refugee ships at Lampedusa: there’s really not a worse place to have to swim for your life than right where they sink. But I am not in the Sicilian Channel, I am on a sport dive off Thessaloníki with a girl named Cherry who, after three weeks of pneumatic screwing and no conversation, inexplicably announced this morning that she thinks she’s going to be my wife. Maybe the shark will eat her.