Carnie Tales In Technicolor
I never imagined working at a carnie, joining the ranks of society’s oddballs: the clowns, the “mystics”, the giants and dwarfs, and the creepy redheaded puppeteer twins. But here I am, looking ridiculous in a straw fedora, a big red bow tie, and old-timey suspenders, a vision cut from the 50s, celebrating the end of summer, fireworks painting the midnight sky with thunderous bursts of colorful light. Your strange steam punk troupe, Airship Craven you called it, a mishmash of characters that...