Croc Colch ran his clean, peach coloured fingers through the feathers of his Tabasco ostrich. Fans of dry gravy, an ornate crown of lead, and a trumpet of the same. Fuchsias with fuzzy pouches. He was far from home: among long warehouses, slanted corrugated roofs, and gilded crowns above their doors. Dirty gravel underfoot, cool … Continue reading "Croc Colch Going Home"