ersatz_17 cuckoobird chapter 17 in which peet asks questions to the cat in a punt "excuse me," i chirped assertively. "may i ask you a question?" she offered me a soundless meow, pitiful, for her eyes were nearly shut with thick mucous. she sneezed. i took it for an affirmative. "have you seen the lost soul of vide the giant?" i asked. i tried to bring espoir's solipsism along with my words. "what does it look like?" the cat scrawled the response query across its paper-thin body, like tapping dusty white chalk across a hard slate blackboard. "his friend maris said it looks like a younger version of himself, the artist as a young man, i guess." "maris is dead." the words were sharp and final as death its cryptic self. "i saw her ragged body floating on the surface of this new sea." "she did good work," i said, thinking of how she gave us vital information to help us along our way. "and she will go on doing it elsewhere," the cat wrote out. "where are we going?" i asked, considering there was nothing visible except open water. "to the end of the world," the words appeared this time as though from a typewriter. 120825 what's it to you? who go blather from