Isn’t it strange how we are able to look back at those brief decades between World War I and World War II and be romantic about it all? Like Woody Allen’s rosy
Midnight in Paris, we remember the glamour, the creativity, the writing and the painting, the decadence and the hedonism at the time, particularly in cities like Paris and Berlin. It was the time of Coco Chanel and Ernest Hemingway, of Otto Dix and the cabaret.
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