I am from “the Red Planet,” Mars,millions of miles from a place called Earth,which, at night, became a bright, shining star,holding hands with the two enormous moons.

I am from the capital, Crater Thunder,where we played tennis on the red, red dirt,except the game didn’t go past the five-minute warmup,as wasting oxygen tanks was a crime.

I am from the neighborhood right next to the launch site—we wore enhanced earplugs every night to sleep,and woke up to the rumbling of engine fire,signaling the end of a journey for tourists.

But I liked Mars, my true home.Earth is too green, too blue, too brown;too overpopulated, too loud, too free;too clean, too oxygenated, too peaceful . . .. . . and too beautiful.