The face of the earth is characteristically human... slowly aging, much slower than we can even comprehend. Her face is smooth in the plains, wrinkled through the Appalachians, pitted and furrowed in the desert southwest. She is dark, light, barren and freckled. Carved out, scarified, embossed, painted... unkempt, manicured into a patchwork quilt of crops. I hate corporate-speak, but - quite literally - from the 10,000-foot-view, the Earth's face is familiar. I'm sure if I were on the moon long enough, gazing back down at her blue face, I'd eventually distinguish her features. I'm not sure I want to know what face she is making, or how it has changed since we [humans] arrived on the scene.