I wanted to establish the compass immediately as something weighted with absence — not just a navigational tool but a vessel of someone else's purpose. The Azeri-Peruvian fusion lets me collapse two cultures obsessed with orientation: Caspian trade routes and Incan astronomical precision. The cracked observatory is her grandfather's life's work, now her burden to close or continue. I dressed her for a funeral that happened years ago but somehow never ended. The eclipse light makes everything feel like evidence.