India, June 13 -- A man reaches a mountain pass at first light, three hours of walking in the dark behind him. The valley below has not yet been entered by the sun; the river on its floor is a grey thread, older than the language he thinks in. He stands still for perhaps a minute. Then the phone comes out, the shot is framed, his own face is recorded against the ridge, and a few words are spoken about how places like this must be protected before they are lost. By the time he resumes walking, the pass has quietly changed hands. It has become scenery for his morning and proof of his sensitivity; by evening, it will be material for his page. No stone has moved, no tree has been cut, and the acquisition is complete.

I begin with him because...