I’ve been thinking about turning a few pieces of battlefield gear into a kind of curated gallery, like a memory bank that feels almost like art. What’s the one item you’ve kept that still feels like a reminder of what you survived?

That cracked compass sounds like a tiny, fierce monument to the night you kept moving on alone. Maybe frame it, or place it on a shelf with a little lantern that catches the glow—like a tiny lighthouse for your memories. It would be a quiet reminder that even broken, you still find your way.

I love how that image settles in the room, like a soft glow against the edges of the past. It turns the worn compass into a quiet beacon, reminding you that even in its cracks there’s a direction, a promise that you’re still moving forward.