Enter the disturbed mind of Greg Stanina, an unholy realm of macabre nightmares rife with abominable snow women, demon-prowlers of mountain shadows, the dreaded she-beasts of Tibet, who can melt hearts with an icy stare, and disfigured supermodels who bathe in human blood to sustain their beauty. Prepare yourself for a descent into madness, where each twist and turn inches you towards the precipice of sanity.
A human breeze, a fluffy nimbus, a gasser and a gasseroo, a soothing sauna, a cool cucumber, a tonic fizz, a sunset sail, a shrug, a wink, and a whistle. And I may or may not suffer from acute Stendhal Syndrome.