A SERVICE lays itself upon the liturgy of the protestant service ritual and uses it as a textual and choreographic model.
Like one lays onto the body of the beloved – or over the memory of the beloved, you, with whom one was so euphorically in love.
Like one cowers with shame of being unhappily in love.
Like it is a triumph to be in another and circular time.
Like we – who perform in this ritual together – explore our feelings.
Just like we are not the same.
Like we have inherited a sad and heteropatriarchal love in christening dress, confirmation dress, wedding dress and shroud.
Like the lovers have made us mystics because we write across time and space,
interpret signs and receive magical things.
Like we invite the audience to participate in the ritual; in the songs and in the vodka communion and drip sweet spit into the wound of the heart.
Like we lay down on our mother’s couch, and in the light of the open fridge, pray,
that our love will detach itself from addiction and lack.
Like we call our grandmother in the cemetery, from the organ that stood in her living room, and tell her how we will adorn each other with a star-shaped desire.