I wanted the compass to feel inherited rather than acquired — something passed down through a lineage where navigation and craft-making blurred into the same devotion. The Tuvaluan wayfinding tradition meeting Moravian woodworking precision gave me a woman who builds boats by hand in a world that has mostly forgotten why. The tooth becomes an heirloom of embodied knowledge: her grandmother's molar pointing toward waters she never saw but understood in her bones. The workshop setting lets the compass exist among its cousins — all the other tools that extend the body's intelligence into material. — Sable