Restless river zig-zagging like a poisonous desert snake mirroring a non-existent, pale blueish color from the grey hue of the restless sky. On the right, in the forefront, St. Anthony stands in a catatonic state behind a hollow tree trunk that resembles an empty cave where demons play, his hand with painted nails holds the trunk — perhaps for dear life. His forehead partially reflects the shadow from the twisted, carved cross, accenting his sad and somber, melancholic face; he resembles an animal in distress, the saffron tunic replaced with a tight costume – toxic green – accentuating his features, yet he is not man nor woman, he is animal, haunted by his own desires and demons. The joke is on them: the Bishop and King, the centaur and satyr, the jokers and demons; they, in disgust, look away from him, who they want to scare — he, who lost himself in the desert of his soul.