I was just trying to find a cheap place to sleep, hiking through the Belgium Ardennes with a backpack that kept digging into my shoulder. The forest was quiet, almost too quiet, and then—there it was. A rusted WWII tank, half-swallowed by moss and time, sitting in the middle of nowhere like it had been waiting for someone to notice. I didn’t feel brave or adventurous. Mostly, I felt small. History isn’t always in museums; sometimes it’s just rotting in the woods, and you trip over it when you’re tired and lost. I took a photo but never posted it. It felt too strange, too heavy—like proof that not everything you find on the road is meant to be shared. #Travel #BackpackingConfessions #UnexpectedHistory