Chi Rho Iota bursts goldenly in Kells, thousands of leaves on a Melbourne May morning. Everything glows in the sun. X is like no X you have ever seen, where creation is everything that is the case, curving everywhere like a gift from a wise man. Intricacy and simplicity alike are everything in the eye of the beholder. The stylus point that unwound this X felt pushed. Time will scatter the golden hour, singling out the X at crossed purposes, leaving it hanging there, nameless in space. Turn the topsy-turvy page to meet the everyone miracle of where we’re at.