My gentle Alan, I’m sorry that I never found the courage to write to you when you were alive. I was young and foolish, as they say. But now, thanks to good people, I have this opportunity, and I took it, knowing that you won’t be able to read this. I want to say thank you for everything you do for me, even from a distance. Thanks to you, I have gained so much and learned so much. For example, I stopped being afraid of meeting people, I’m learning English, I started drawing again, I make edits, I’ve been running social media for more than three years now, sharing my creative work, in which I try to grow and improve. Forgive my laziness. I think you know how sometimes you just don’t feel like doing anything. A fish understands a fish. And I also found friends thanks to my love for you. I still talk to some of them, with others I don’t anymore, but I’m not upset. It’s an experience, and you simply have to learn some kind of lesson from it. Right? I still remember the first time I watched Harry Potter as a child on a CD. And back then, I didn’t yet know that somewhere out there was my favourite person. I’ve known you for a long time, but I only began to love you so incredibly, madly deeply a couple of years ago. Consciously. Not with a childish infatuation, and not because you played Snape, but you, specifically. Ah, I’m crying right now, God. Why was I so late? I’m 25 now, and you died when I was only sixteen. And apparently, I had other plans for my life and other interests. But now you are that very person who helps me stay afloat. Sometimes I calm myself down when I’m afraid to take a step forward: “Alan did it, so I can do it too.” I’ve even started to understand the personalities of your characters, started to see their souls the same way you saw them. Can you imagine? It’s so amazing. Even today, I went to the theatre to see the musical drama Perfume, based on Patrick Süskind’s cult novel. Before that, the last time I had been to the theatre was back in my school years, and as an adult, I didn’t feel like going to the theatre in my hometown, and I didn’t have anyone to go with either. I only go out alone when I have errands to run. But after moving to another city, there were more plays I wanted to see. And sitting in the audience, do you know what I realised? I realised why you loved the theatre so much. To see an actor live through their role, tear their soul apart to convey emotions to the audience, and how they breathe with love for this place. To see how actors work so hard just to hear those long-awaited applause, so that people stay until the very end. It really is a tremendous amount of work. I’m proud of you. I miss you so much sometimes. And it hurts so much, as if I knew you personally. There’s this pressure somewhere in my chest, and I can’t do anything about it. I couldn’t attend your plays, I couldn’t even catch a glimpse of you somewhere on the streets of London, I couldn’t even send you a letter. And it tears me apart to realise that I’ve lost everything. I just want to talk to you for at least a couple of minutes. Just a couple of minutes... Do you know what I dream of? Writing you a real letter and sending it through people who can place it in your memory corner. It’s the only thing I have left to do. I haven’t found such people yet. Perhaps one day I’ll give it to you myself, in person. But don’t worry. I’m strong, you know that. I’ll think of something. I think it’s time to say goodbye in this letter. Rest and regain your strength. You probably have another premiere over there, right? Tell me later how you’re doing, please. I love you so much and I miss you, my little one.