I read this in an hour. An hour. Sixteen chapters of 18-25 pages in a single hour. That’s a record that may never be broken.
It’s garbage. Complete garbage. There are no other words to describe how unbelievably painful it was to try and comprehend this story. Everything about it is absolutely putrid. Art, story, characters. Everything. An absolute waste of time. An absolute waste of effort. An absolute waste of a title. If anyone were to give this story anything over a three, I’d assume they were joking, or a prepubescent teenage boy who gets off to the thought of fucking their relatives. Ugh.
The Visualist's Veranda 