Now the Writer considers if one student was the whole, a studier of everything; across time, a renaissance man, with all these studies within him, but at once more like a chameleon, able to blend in with any field. And would this chameleon not grow large as a dragon, swelling with all of his environment, or does he merely contain the facade of each identity within him, or does he actually become the green frog, the yellow canary, the blue bluebird, or is he always merely the chameleon, not an actual shape-shifter, but only a master of disguise changing his mask?

The chameleon who changes his color with his surroundings, what color is the chameleon if there were no colors, would the chameleon cease to exist? Or would the chameleon take on the color of nothingness? Or would the Chameleon remember his past colors and put one on despite it serving no purpose to blend into a background of nothingness. How pathetic is my attempt at resisting conditioning, if even my resistance itself is a product of conditioning?

Is the Writer the Chameleon, with only guises. Or is he God, with all of it within him?