Where The Sixties Keep On Tokin'Julia Flynn
I'm sipping beer at the Melkweg coffee house in Amsterdam when a burly, bespectacled man settles down nearby. Before long, he pulls out a large plastic bag half full of marijuana. He rolls a joint, kicks his high-tops onto the table, and leans back. Then, he strikes a match and takes a deep toke. "This is my smoking night," he explains with a satisfied squint.
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