Imagine a smoky lounge filled with people who came to drown there sorrows in whiskey. Then a blanket of silence falls upon the crowd as the curtains pull back and the Bluebird appears, glowing in the halo of the spotlight. The music starts and her voice fills the air. Everyone falls under her spell and for a few brief moments all their troubles fade away.
As the curtain closes, the Bluebird cries. Who's there to listen to her sorrows?