The (increasingly nostalgic) exploration of my Wintory/Weinberger lineage continues today with another of Sonja Eisenberg's poems (performed here by my father, Terry Wintory).
The content of these poems can be enough to give me chills, let alone instant inspiration. I have been going back and forth on my interpretation thanks to the word "Pretends." Is it beneficial to lose ourselves in the temporary emotional release offered by, in this case, music? Or is it simply that-- temporary, an escape that leaves us no closer to confronting our fears when we return to them? Regardless, I visualized this as an attempt to wash dirt from ones hands. Soap protecting us and washing us clean. It is also a bit beyond my bedtime...