By Callum 
A single breath of planet. One blue curve against infinity. Clouds trailing white whispers. Oceans swirling with possibility.
Earth 1 is the first, the original. The parent of every map scratched, every horizon chased. She is both cradle and cage: a sphere spinning in the void, carrying life fragile as a petal, strong as stone.
We look at Earth 1, and see color—green lungs, brown bones, blue waters, white ice. But also we see what might be: melting, shifting, rising seas, scorched soil, and the quiet pulse of struggles unseen.
To name her Earth 1 is to remember: there is no Earth 2. Every choice, every tear, every seed, every scar counts. She is one. We are her breath. We are her trace.