The oldest story. The oldest delusion. — Once upon a time in a small village just north of Gdansk, there lived an old inventor. Except that maybe it was New York, 1922, and the old man was a failing producer. No, wait, I don’t think it was. The hero of our tale is an ambitious plastic surgeon, Berlin, July 13th, 2005. It doesn’t matter. My story is the same. Does it ever change? Now, the old man sits by his window, and watches all the great beauties of Gdansk flood past the markets. And he sees their fading youth, their uneven teeth, and their creasing skin. “Oh!” He says. “If only I could have a perfect bride.” …