Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat

I stopped reading Dylan Dog the day the number 100 was out. I bought it in Rome, at the Stazione Termini, I was there for New Year’s Eve. We were in the dead of winter in Bologna, but Rome was warm. I read it, and all of a sudden the magic was gone. I really didn’t need to know about Morgana, about the bottle ship, and I had turned 20 anyway, Dylan Dog had been my favorite comic through my teen years and that was it. Later on I sold my collection to the old lady of the used bookshop, keeping only my favourite, number 9 Alfa e Omega (always been the sf type), by Tiziano Scalvi and Corrado Roi.

I know nothing about Lillie, but I may decide to read number 121 one day, while I’m deliberately avoiding the movies. Dylan Dog was, is and always will be a young Rupert Everett to me.

Friend V. also saved one number from her own collection, and that was 81 Johnny Freak (she’s never been the sf type), by Tiziano Sclavi and Andrea Venturi. We used to love Johnny Freak very much. I met Andrea Venturi yesterday, and I was ashamed I didn’t have my original copy for him to sign. But 1993 is long gone. Sergio Bonelli is gone too.
Dylan dog is still around, though, and hopefully will be for a long time.

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