I've only ever known Axel as old. We met twenty five years ago when he was turning fifty. Like many men that age, he was improving. I never knew the angry young Axel. The man who spent his youth buying and selling homosexual nightspots in Berlin, Poland, Hungary, in fact the entire gay culture of Eastern Europe was at the mercy of his love affairs, his angry whims. I never knew any of that. But as he grew into middle age, Axel no longer fought his own existence, or that of his parents. His mission to squander his entire inheritance was far too grandiose. He was simply too, too rich. It couldn't be done. As this penny began to drop Axel began buying art. But not just any old art. Before his middle fifties Axel had amassed the greatest collection of erotica in the world. What is this..? I seemed to be paraphrasing my own book about him, Axel. A woman- stunning- short dark hair and the blackest of eyes was smiling at the ground as she walked past the table. In the fractional second- had I caught her eye? Undoubtedly, French women have the fastest eyes in the world. I imagined myself in her thoughts.Salut! Axel was beaming.