Smoke it out so he appears, eyes streaming, trying not to breathe, he emerges from where a moment before there was nothing, a blind-spot in experience. He doesn't want to speak but if something needs to said he will step up, he has a crumpled script he pulls from a back pocket and which he can edit on the fly. By that time he would have crystallized into something to be reckoned with, but right now he's just a dream flower, a sort of mirage hovering on the edge of credulity. What is extraordinary is the finish on the thing! Like anything in nature it goes deep in detail, a wonderfully interlaced mechanism that could only have evolved, a mirror to every contingency. You can only admire this craft from the wings, the moment he gets both feet onstage even you fall for the illusion and find yourself taking sides in a show that seems unworthy of so much skill, or such polished projection.