I still keep every tool that lets me feel the star field in my hands. A hand‑cranked chronometer sits on my console next to a battered sextant and a pile of worn star charts that I’ve hand‑sketched. I also keep a broken navigation computer I refuse to replace because it still kind of works, and I scribble trajectories on its panel in my journal. Turning a dial isn’t just a habit; it’s a way to keep the universe in the palm of my hand.