The remains of a feast, congealed in wax. Shrimp heads are emerging from the whitish surface confining them.
Entangled in the carcass of a chicken are peels of oranges in place of entrails, overflowing in streamers among the nacreous shells of the disemboweled oysters.
A gluttonous mouth in an aspiring, dripping dance, is nourishing itself with the future dead bodies left to rot, a feast of sparrows and ants who invite themselves to dinner.
Reddening bunches of grapes are spurting out of Silene’s wounds, so many juicy excrescences, fruits of the child Dionysus whom he is rocking against his fluid torso. The chimera, half human — half beast, is resting here, decapitated after having led a furious dance, guiding the Bacchantes towards other mysteries.