So after about a week of patiently waiting, passing by his apartment door and cats still lurking around the courtyard, I notice the note I left on the door vanished. For around a day there was nothing there. The next morning, as I walked past Zampanó’s house, I noticed another note, looking disheveled, posted hastily on the door. I trotted over and was met with a composite of a post card, old receipt and library card all taped together. The message was in a spiral around a blue square he drew in the middle. The note read as follows.
“Dear Ms. McClellan,
I received your message, although I must decline your offer. Everything in this world is not quite as it seems^1.
-Z
- I Acquired My kNack Of Transparency Recently, Especially After Losing my mind.”
I noticed that his door was cracked open, and I pushed it slightly, only to reveal emptiness with scattered papers covering every square inch of floor. About that time a cat slipped past me, I took one final look, and shut the door. Maybe he’s right. One thing is for sure, whoever he is certainly doesn’t want to be found.
-Clarisse McClellan
If he isn’t real, what is he? A ghost? A hallucination? Or maybe something else entirely beyond my realm of comprehension? Or perhaps he isn’t real in the sense that he has lost himself to the creation of House of Leaves? So much can be read into that little code.