Mei Washio, the senior from the art club who was once my idol. Her genius talent and mysterious atmosphere... everything was cool, a senior I respected. Ten years after graduation, when I went to greet her, she was there in a sloppy, fallen state. No, maybe this is also the appearance of a genius... When I went into her house, things were placed messily there. At first glance, that space seems to be dominated by disorder, but what is drifting among the chaotic clutter is undoubtedly the atmosphere of creation. As expected, it seems that the senior is still immersed in the world of art... This is a record of my summer memories, the runaway of the libido of a genius artist who exposes her heated body in a humid summer and how I was consumed by its eros.
