Three green chameleons race one another across the terrace; one pauses at Madame’s feet, flicking its forked tongue, and she comments: ‘Chameleons. Such exceptional creatures. The way they change color. Red. Yellow. Lime. Pink. Lavender. And did you know they are very fond of music?’ She regards me with her fine black eyes. ‘You don’t believe me?’
—Truman Capote, Music for Chameleons, 1980.