Curator’s Note for ISSUE #19: EXIT

The sky looks the same every day from my window. The colour is same, the clouds look the same, cars travel in the same way every day. It rains sometimes, and it gets dark. There isn’t much that differentiates this day today from a day two years ago.

Time doesn’t tell you it needs to get on. It just does, with or without your approval.

Your face looks older. Your back feels sore more often than it used to. Listicles about turning 30 have become your thing.

When did one thing stop (bright-eyed youth, fashionably concealed with blasé mehs), and another begin (more fiber in your diet for good digestion)? Why were there no road signs announcing where we were — not even a bland border marker?

We just left ourselves, and didn’t even say goodbye.

Thirty years from now, if this magazine survives its inevitable link rot, it will be two things for me. One – a snapshot of us and our thoughts and likes (and loves) that maybe we’ve grown out of. Two – a space we created for ourselves, made at a time when we couldn’t even afford a room for ourselves. It turned out the space could fit more people than any room ever could. This magazine turned out to be about personal passions but with a purpose – writers writing for others to write.

Some of them will continue to write their own dreams and spaces, and new others will write from what they wrote.

This is ISSUE: EXIT. This is the last ISSUE.

Thank you, and goodbye.




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