Sometimes wandering doesn’t take us far at all. Sometimes it leads us downward — into basements, backyards, quiet corners where imagination is free to stretch without being explained. Before we knew what we were building, before we knew why it mattered, we wandered simply because something inside us wanted to see what might happen next.

When I was a kid, my parents bought a new washer and dryer. For most children, the excitement might have been the shiny new appliances. For me, it was the large cardboard boxes they came in. My parents planned to burn them, but I asked if I could have them instead. With a nod of approval, the boxes were mine.

I dragged them down into the basement — a cool, dim space that smelled faintly of laundry soap and cement. Armed wi...

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