Inside

My name is Aila Ma’ana Téwari. Or maybe Aile Molyneaux, depending on who you ask. Sometimes I’m not entirely sure, myself. Maybe both of those are my name, and maybe neither. Maybe something else I haven’t discovered yet.

Every time I think I’ve reached the end of the spiral, everything changes again. And really, I guess, that was another step on an even larger spiral–realizing that they really are spirals, and I’ll never reach “the top”. Ever onward and upward, floating in lazy circles on an updraft, surveying the countryside and smiling at the sun, the sun smiling back at me.

Once upon a time, I thought I was just a little girl who wanted wings. “Human” didn’t enter into it then, ’cause there wasn’t any other option, really. Then les volants came. And somehow I knew that I was meant to be one of them. Somewhere along the way, I became one of them, at least in my mind, and in body for sure.

But over time I’ve started to wonder if that’s really the answer. My “scene” at the party really impressed one thing upon me. I thought back to my first ritual with the Na’aulele and realized that the world is a big, big place, and things are not always as they seem. And I’m not sure the Na’aulele have all the answers, either.