on comic books.

I don’t remember the first comic book I ever cracked or how old I was when my dad bought it for me. I don’t remember a time before comic books, actually. What I remember, instead, is fluid, an action I did over and over, a looped gif of a memory:

We are at Vernon’s Drugs on Key Biscayne and I am slowly turning the thinly stocked, wire comic rack. Continue reading “on comic books.”