The tuna cages are a vortex, a maelstrom of giants. In the deep blue water the shoal of bluefin circles slowly around an invisible axis somewhere in the middle of the cage of circular nets. There must be many dozens of them, in a deep whirlpool of fish that reaches to the bottom of the sea. They inch forward, their tailfins swishing majestically through the water. The stately calm disappears as soon as the engine of the boat with fresh fish comes within earshot. Once the sardines, herring and cuttlefish are thrown over the raised edge that keeps the nets of the circular cage afloat, the surface of the water transforms into a whirling mass of dorsal fins, splashing foam and gaping jaws into which the fish disappears. Feeding time at the tuna farm. Tuna is always hungry.
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