As you are

Zul An­dra, Ed­i­tor-in-chief

Esquire (Singapore) - - This Way Out -

De­pend­ing on where you stand, next to a lover or a record player (or both), this could mean one of many things. Love is, af­ter all, a many-splen­doured thing.

My love for Esquire is rooted in its found­ing verses—its in­abil­ity to con­form to the whims and the de­sires of trends; never sat­is­fied, al­ways cu­ri­ous; a place where medi­ocrity in­flicts a type of psy­cho­so­matic pain in the scro­tum; where Muham­mad Ali plays Saint Se­bas­tian; a 10,000word pro­file piece on a war crim­i­nal; a cel­e­brated in­ter­view with a pro­file who re­fuses to be in­ter­viewed; where fic­tion reads like non-fic­tion… stan­dard stuff through the halls of Esquire.

I’d opine that great sto­ry­telling has a place in any world. Around a camp­fire, in a mag­a­zine or those vir­tual re­al­ity things. Esquire’s sto­ries have a voice un­like any other. Its melody is what one re­turns to when the world gets too noisy. It holds you down to the re­al­ity of things be­fore fal­sity ends up bury­ing you alive.

But times, they are chang­ing. The power of your be­ing, your rea­son, your story, don’t have to change along with it. I will con­tinue to love the voice of Esquire from a dis­tance and re­turn to it with a good ear.

But try­ing to de­scribe love is like try­ing to de­scribe what wa­ter tastes like. It’s... al­right? Al­right then. That’s the way love goes. Be good, eat well and drink more wa­ter. This is my stop, I’ll see you lot around. This way out.

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