In the Greek wilderness, the sun shines through the Rose berry trees and through the thorns on the graceful grape bushes that lay themselves lined across the beautiful grass fields that animals frolic around in. In the middle of the forest, is a man with dark hair and grapes as head dressers, he is slouched over on a large oak tree, a brown leather bag holds glass bottles of a viscous purple substance, one of the bottles laying dormant in the man's hand. The man is shoe-less, yet crowns of thorns wrap themselves around his ankles, knees, elbows, and wrists. He has fair skin, and is quite beautiful, he breathes quietly in his slumber, his head pointed downwards. "..."