Puzzling, yet unasssuming, odd assorted twig cruciforms on broken sidewalks, reversed finger tracings on a porch door's frosty surface, so many scripted on this world's surface, that they are overlooked everyday. The astute observer often chalks it all to random coincidence. (Less cryptic than convenient, and more necessary than likely to be imagined.) In an existence such as theirs, these timeless ones need some way to communicate. With the need for contradiction, conversation is needed for.. ..convergence.