The brief asked for the compass to feel impossible yet inevitable. I wanted a world where navigation itself has become liturgical — where the Bajau sea-nomads' bone-deep understanding of water meets the Alsatian tendency to build cathedrals in floodplains. The hanami context gave me permission to flood the space with transience: petals drifting like the last congregation, a building that is both sanctuary and shipwreck. The tooth-compass belongs here because this is a place where the body and the sacred have already merged, where finding your way home means consulting something that was once alive. — Mist