Arya

Arya is a woman, a pixen, a devil as well as an angel. In her hair, there lurks the enticing gleam of onyx from the mysterious East, yet, in her heart, there also dwells Hawthorne of her adoptive America. The reader is made to smell her scent; of musk, of Oud, and of incense. Her Catholic past, her Protestant present, mingles and dances with the acquired Eastern Sciences. Her past, her present, lives upon lives she remembers, and dreams about, she shares unabashedly with everyone; baring her spirit to her fellow humans, with whom she knows no division in being. All that she shares with her universal family, without a hint of inhibition, a whisper of doubt, imparting newfound methods of loving, unearthing old adages of creativity in dealing with her world.