Who do you get when you capture a person? How you see or who they show? Or who they think you want to see? Or do you catch the person they secretly wish to be?

The possibility of spinning around the Sun at this particular moment, with you reading these words, is so extravagantly delicious it almost hurts to wish for more. The pictures in this gallery celebrate "Being here," on this glorious orb, spinning, warmed by a star.

I was lucky to have my childhood ripped to pieces by my desperate mother. She fled my aging and inconoclastic father, and he was forced to make a choice about the winter of his life: freedom, or raising three children? He chose to keep us. We hit the road and went into hiding. I've been traveling ever since.

Seat 27B across the Atlantic, and your new iPod, and motion detectors in the back yard . . . at what cost, and when do you pay? The world will survive our erector sets and consumption of its treasures, but when do we punish the profiteers who do nothing to erase the scars they've carved into the planet?