This rhythmic pounding was in fact the first sign of trouble—the water was not calm, but rather choppy, dark, and taciturn...
Arriving to Casablanca, I could not have known that it would be precisely here, in this place of cinematic myth, that I would participate in a film of my own, but of an altogether different sort and quite unlike the masterpiece of Michael Kurtis. And yet, for me at least, it was equally memorable.
There, about twenty feet away, was a large, bulky bull shark swimming directly toward me. It swam up from the depths, a calm specter who seemed purposeful… eager… hungry.
A kaleidoscope of wonders await just below the surface of the water.