He moves nearly silently, an enigmatic mirage at times. His robes of knowledge do not make a sound when they swirl around the Hafiz poem that is his channel of knowing. He is changing water. He might flow quickly and find joy in several quick pivoting steps, some playful rushes at a curving metaphorical shoreline or he might wade deeply into an eddying flowing to joust around ideas, sparing his words, considering each as a droplet that carries a moon in it, and "conducting the affairs of the whole universe"