La Brújula (The Compass)

I am the Compass, the needle that points north across any sea or desert. I know the latitude of every city, the longitude of every landmark. The cartographer draws from my reading; the navigator steers by my needle. I am the certainty in a world of sand and wave: north is north, and the route home is known.

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A navigator once dropped me in salt water. The needle spun for an hour. When it settled, it pointed not to north, but to the mountain where his mother was buried. He followed me there, missed the caravan, lost his position. But he found her grave. The Compass does not always guide commerce. Sometimes it guides grief. Both are true north.