We are not what you think. To you who come on airplanes, who descend upon us, we are invisible as air. We are the `āina and the sum of its parts. Mauka and makai, past and present. Born of its waters, we are haumāna and kūpuna, ageless and ancient. The keepers of the stories, the watchers, the listeners. You think you’ve been here, you think you know us, you have the pictures to prove it. The pictures are wrong. You’ve seen nothing at all. We are not here for you. We were here before you came, and will be here when you leave. We are Hilo, one. We are we.
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