From Expos 17, October 1990:

In front of the gaudy, gilt Buddhist temple we stopped, and approached a crowd of people, children mostly, who were squatting around a circular, white, plastic tub. Many small hands swirled in the tub's water. Each hand held a round, metal loop that had white filter paper stretched across its diameter. Hand and metal-paper extension followed swarms of multi-sized goldfish darting around the tub. Each hand and its loop was eager to win a fish by successfully scooping it out of the tub with the water-weakened paper net. Wise hands targeted the large schools of pinky-sized goldfish, hoping to catch at least one light trophy from the crowd. More determined hands chased elusive trophies around the perimeter of the tub.

My attention was diverted when I noticed a more ambitious hand maneuver its paper loop under the largest goldfish in the tub, and lift it swiftly out of the water. I watched the goldfish as it lay tenuously in an iridescent arc, its tail and head hanging over the sides of the fragile circle. In a second it began to squirm and twitch. Tail and head arched spastically upward to meet the other, reversing the direction of its parabolic arc. The goldfish's contorted torso drilled through the water-weakened paper, slipped bodily through the loop in a fluorescent shimmer, and fell, like a leftover firecracker spark, into the water.

I felt my heart and stomach lurch and fall with the fish as it escaped an imminent confinement in plastic bag.

Deep, eh? Three years ago, I thought so. too.