In winter, I can't go outside for long unless I wear a house to keep me warm. So, I go about in a nomadic mansion of heavy clothing. Warm hallways lead to boot-and-mitten bedrooms for my feet and hands, and there's a chimney hole through which I poke my toque-roofed head. Heat's generated by my belly-furnace, and my brain-library's in the loft. My face is summer's naked exile, peering at winter through an open window.