Love letter to Zach

Dear Zach,

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my name is Ingrid and this year I’ll turn 27. I can still die young. And if I die during the coming year, I will be a part of The 27 Club. How beautiful is that? Don’t get me wrong, this is not a death wish, but I think that if you can see the beautiful things in all sides of life – then love will become real.

I know a lot of things that makes love real: pancakes for breakfast, snow storms, the smell of coffee beans, my grandmothers hands, tights with bright colours, eating burgers made of newly catched fish, being nervous before an exam, wathing «My life as a dog» over and over and over again, do the dishes in silence, or take miserable tourist pictures of my sister. I am pretty sure that you know as many things that can make love real.

Well, you proved it yesterday, in «Tell me love is real» at Avant Garden.

One of my favorite kinds of art is reenactments of other pieces of art. Especially reenactment of reenactments. There’s something funny and meta about it. But I have to admit that I like Dolly Parton’s original of «I will always love you» better than Whitney Houston’s – it’s sensitive, vulnerable and full of love. Just like life itself is. And I’ve never felt so loved as when you sang it to us. Love became real.

Some will say that art is a reenactment of life itself. But the one thing you can’t reenact is love. Love is real. If you want to create love in art, the art becomes love. I guess your piece «Tell me love is real» was just love. As simple as that. I’ve never felt more loved by art. I’ve never felt loved by art, this is a new feeling for me. The best feeling art can make me feel.

With this letter I wanted to tell that you convinced me – love is real. There is someone out there who loves you, and wants to dance with you. Someone who wishes life treats you kind and hope you have all you’ve ever dreamed of. Who wishes you joy and happiness, but – above all – wishes you love.

That someone is Whitney, Paul, Carrie, Amelia, Bruce, Serge, Jean Claude, Jean Claude’s mother, Ingmar, and me. At least.

PS! This is me, trying to kick it like you. I promise I will practice until we meet again.

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–  (love from) Ingrid