I remember being eleven, feeling the magic of imagining my way into other worlds slipping away—and I did NOT like it. Back then, my living room transformed into stormy seas, cardboard ships carried me to island adventures, and a sculpture in front of the fireplace—an upside-down jug with mop hair—became the Great Wise Mop Head. Even though I wasn’t allowed to touch it, my imagination found ways to bring it to life. Everywhere I went, everyday objects became portals to secret worlds filled with wonder.