I wanted the recurring object to be a compass — something that promises direction but delivers only memory when the territories it once mapped no longer exist. The Sámi-Ottoman fusion felt necessary because both cultures understood transit and empire differently: the reindeer migration routes, the Ottoman communication networks. This telegraph station is where those worlds might have touched, a place built for messages that outlived their senders. The coat tells that story — Arctic survival wearing the ghost of Anatolian formality. She inherits the compass not as navigation but as proof that someone once knew the way.