the anti-heroine of an era of bathtub gin, organized crime, and jazz, clouded in the smoke of fired guns and cigarettes.
'Red, I feel my soul on fire.
Black, my world if she’s not there.
Red, the color of desire.
Black, the color of despair.'
Black, my world if she’s not there.
Red, the color of desire.
Black, the color of despair.'