Lately, it’s been like this — weaving through spaces and inhaling dust. California is on fire right now, yes, but I’m talking about the dust that’s accumulated through pages and pages of back issues and graphic novels. Comics, nowadays, serve as a reprieve. There’s some kind of solace as I traverse the silent world in between shelves and boxes looking for things that I wont necessarily read but keep. Beyond San Francisco, comic shops grow disheveled. Stocks and stocks of product are scattered neatly and everywhere. It makes me wonder why the main city stores aren’t as dense with content but just as small.