The Love Letter

Dear Lutz and Stian,

This is my love letter to you. My neighbours. Well, actually, the only ones living with me in this house in the Bergen harbor. After you’d told me about your project You only tell me you love me when you're drunk, there was really nothing else for me to do but to get you so drunk that you told me you loved me.

(I’m actually drunk right now, writing this to you. I brought a bottle of stolen rom to your studio. You went out and I stayed in. Lutz, you looked disappointed, but then you smiled and said: ”It’s just as good. It always goes to hell when we drink with you.”)

The day after we met, I woke up at 5.30 in the afternoon, naked on the balcony in my studio. You knocked on the door, Lutz. Red-eyed, your hair looked like some remarkable bird’s nest. You said: "The last thing I remember is swimming towards you.”

I hung bottles of Swedish Aquavit on your door. I came by with Jack D and raspberries that I’d picked and I filled your apartment with flowers. I climbed trees to give you the sweetest cherries, and then I drew sad little faces on the naked seeds. You danced with my Jim B on the table until you fell, Lutz, and had to walk with a limp for two weeks.

And all it came down to was me turning into a wreck. It’s hard to make a wreck out of a wreck, but you managed.

So how do you make a wreck out of a wreck? This is the Lutz and Stian way:
You wrap it up in sloppy packaging and send it around the world.
(Well, I've done that already.)
Ok. So maybe you found the beautiful pieces in the trash, and you created something new from them. That’s how it felt, hanging out with you. When we were drinking I turned into your sculpture, and you created something beautiful out of the wreck that is me. Remember that night you took me to your gallery? It was empty then, and Stian, you looked at me and you said: ”Maybe we should just exhibit you.” (You were already doing it.)

I fell in love with both of you that first night in the studio.
Because you dance yourselves to destruction.
Because you love destruction.
Because you reconstruct love.
Because you swing over the autobahn.
Because you carry your bones in suitcases.

I love you because you let me sleep in your bed so that I can watch the moon over the fjords. The fjords and the city at night, glued to the mountain like thousands of fallen stars. I love you because you skinny-dipped with me in the midnight water. I love you because you didn’t see me taking naked pictures of you afterwards.

Stian, you said that Lutz would go swimming tonight, and I said that he should watch it so he doesn't get stung by a jelly fish. You looked at me then, as if to tell me that I should know that I’m more dangerous than a jelly fish. But you, you don’t seem to care about that, and for that I love you. I was alone here before you came. And I will be alone after you leave.

I love you because when you do I’ll still be a wreck, just a little bit more beautiful than I was before.

And, well, tonight it finally happened.
Me: Let's have a big dinner together before you leave me.
Stian: I know what we should eat!
Lutz: You always know what we should eat.
Stian: I want to cook you sheep head.
Me: I would love to eat sheep head with you!
Stian: I love you!

…

You only tell me you love me when I want to eat sheep head.

Love, K