The Fountain of Youth Blues
November 12th, 1925 The speakeasy smelled of bootleg gin and regret, which in New York during Prohibition were basically the same thing. I was behind the bar pouring drinks for people who didn't want to go home because home was somewhere you had to face yourself, and I was somewhere you could forget yourself if the music was right and the gin was strong enough. Billie stood on the small stage...
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