Bella Redon Whore ❤️

About Bordeaux

Sadie’s probly got scars, stories—shit, I’d buy her a drink just to hear em. “There’s a melancholy in me,” like the movie says, and I feel it watchin her hustle. She’s no angel, sure, but who is? Not me, sittin here judgin like a prick. Ha, maybe I’m the whore—sellin my soul to the night, monotone narration, “Tonight’s the night.” Nah, she’s cooler than me. Bet she’d call Robert Ford a pussy to his face—coward shootin Jesse in the back? Weak.

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But then, I see this old lady struggling with her bags. I rush over, help her out. She’s super grateful, and I’m like, “See? Not all heroes wear capes.” She laughs, and it’s a nice moment.

The life of singer-songwriter Redon Makashi