I think I know what life is for, and yet I cannot live for that. I'm forced to wear a different hat when weather changes are extreme; otherwise, I'd grow too poor to realize a distant dream.
The dream is of a frozen sea that suddenly begins to melt — violent tremors soon are felt by starving souls aboard a ship, who gasp in wonder when they see an island grow beneath the ship.
So while I'm freezing I must eat and wear the hat that warms my head. I must commit my days to bread to keep my strength, my vision clear upon the ground below my feet, which may be far, or may be near.