No-one notices me. Why would they? I rummage through rubbish, picking through the detritus and leftovers for scraps. I’m the sort of figure you’d crossover to avoid. Pitiable. Sad. Maybe a bit disgusting. There’s a long history of characters like me: mudlarks searching the Thames; tabloid hacks rooting through celebrities’ bins. Treasure hunters. There is so much out there to explore, to root through, to discover. The overlooked, the lost, the forgotten, the unconnected. I’ll be there, finding data you’ve left behind and they haven’t picked up. I like to think I rescue orphans and then set them to work.