"If the moon was your child, what would you name it?"
"The moon has many names already."
"Yes, that is true. Are they all beautiful names?"
"Is the moon beautiful?"
"Yes, most beautiful."
"Then it would inspire beautiful names."
"Tell me some?"
"Well when the French named their moon, they named it Luna. I think they did this because the name glows in your ears, like the moon glows in your eyes."
"You're right, it does. What are others?"
"The Arabs say that Maha is their moon. Maybe because it's so soft and delicate, just like the moon's light.
"Maha - alluringly diaphanous. Are there others?"
"To the Armenians, the moon is Lucine. I think Lucine sounds like a beautiful woman, who wears swaths of lace and silk, and I think that the moon is also an exquisite lady, worthy of such a winsome name."
"Tell me more."
"Candra means 'glowing like the moon' in Indonesia. Perhaps the same kind of warm glow that a candle provides, a comforting and guiding glow. "
"How do you know all of this?"
"I learned it in much the same way you just did. I was inspired to ask, and so I asked. I was given an answer, and now I have given you an answer."
"Isn't that funny, how questions can become answers can become questions again?"
"I suppose that's the nature of questions. And answers, for that matter. They keep rotating. That's how all great knowledge is passed along - somebody asks, and when they are answered, they can in turn answer others."
"Speaking of questions, you never answered mine."
"I didn't? What was yours?"
"I asked you what you would name the moon."
"So you did. I think I would name it Ayla."
"Because I think it's a beautiful name. And therefore, it's suiting."