The Echo of Empathy
The jazz of 1920s New York was a frantic mask, a gilded screen designed to hide the hollow ache of a generation that had seen too much blood in the trenches of France. In the penthouse suites of Manhattan, the champagne flowed like rivers, but in the damp, subterranean corridors of the St. Jude’s Asylum for the Incurable, the only music was the rhythmic dripping of pipes and the low moans of...
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