[After a long hiatus, the jagged zigzag of the Cat's so-called penmanship returns. The ink is thick and
dark.]
The whispers do so deny me the pleasure of rapport, true as they are in their cruelty. Waxing and waning, saturnine, lunary and catamenial—quicksilver, the Moon changeth her nature. I must ask once and again. Twice and again. As it refers to preference, which is ideal, as a generalisation of the monstrous, generated of the putrefaction of the earth, the fork or the spoon?