49ers
All these years later, the aliens and ghosts are still looking for their touchdown.
The first stop of my bike ride on Saturday was a comic book store. I asked for Jordi Lafebre latest book (“I am their silence”, coming out in English next year from Dark Horse), but the store had run out and was expecting to order more from the publisher this coming week. I have been waiting for Jordi’s next book since he blew my mind with his phenomenal “Always, Never”, and I’m not at all surprised he’s sold out.
I kept pedaling with a few other spots to hit on the way. Dance shoes. Tempura snacks at the street fair. I eventually passed over another comic book store and went in again, this time with another comic in mind. I got lucky and bought the first two volumes of the manga “Dan Da Dan”. A father and his young son were behind me at the counter waiting to pay, and the dad said to his kid: “You see? he’s also buying Dan Da Dan.” I turned to the kid behind me and asked if he had seen the anime, to which he replied that he had, and that he liked it. I told him I saw the anime and liked it as well, that’s what led me to the book, and then asked if he thought the manga was similar to the anime, or if there were many differences. He took a moment to think about it, and said there were pretty similar. I smiled, thanked him and got back to my ride.
We finally stopped to have lunch at a restaurant I like with Latin American inspired cuisine and parking spots for the bicycles. There was live samba playing there in the evening, but after we relaxed, ate our food and drank our drinks, we kept pedaling towards home before my legs failed me and I collapsed in the middle of the street. (also, the tail tight of my bicycle was out of battery and I wanted to get home before dark)
Forty Niners
I turn forty nine this week. When I was a kid, on vacation with my parents, Bá and I got two American football sweater and, like most clothes when we were that young and much more identical, mine was blue and his was red. The color choice was the easiest way to tell us apart, and I believe it was because of that, and not by any affinity to a particular team, that my sweater was of the New York Giants and Bá’s was of the San Francisco 49ers.
Maybe my brother should track down that old sweater from the trunk, and wear it every day for a year to help people tell us apart (as if his current mohawk or my bleached hair aren’t enough).
Be safe, be kind, be curious.
Pa-ZOW!
Fábio Moon
Moon Base, São Paulo
June 2nd, 2025