That man, that man with the greasy collar dancing violently through his bewilderment his words like static electricity; begging for a way back in time. And you, please treat him kindly. I wanted to make a film about compassion, not too heavy, not too light. I read The Sorrows of Young Werther by Goethe, I studied The Human Voice by Jean Cocteau, talked to some homeless people on the streets, searched my heart for what I haven’t been able to say, I listened to John Mayalls’ song Crying and I envied the work of Robert Ashley,. All of this became tangled in my head to form the idea of Winter. T.J.