That was "Il Mister's" dream… They called him "il Mister" because you could see him walking around in misty Venice, with Aloha, his faithful dog and a camera (sometimes, also, a gigantic tripod)… His friend, Andreas F., -another enigmatic and legendary figure of Venice- gave him that name, but nobody remembers why. Except me, of course. The truth is that nobody knew what "il Mister" was doing in Venice either. He and his friends, a group of men and women that met regularly in a mysterious place they called "Azerbaijan", were shrouded by mystery. Were they spies? Were they photographers? Were they secret guardians of the galactic balance? My mission was to find out… And I did. But you will not. Not from me, anyway... In my job, secrecy and discretion are essential for survival. All I can say is that I followed him all the way to Central Park. I went to see him play tennis. I didn't though. All he did was smoke. Well, smoking in Central Park is not all that bad, I thought…
