Dynamo walked quickly out of the shanty, scanning the ground for anything aluminum. He was something of a scavenger. He took old pallets home to use as firewood, and he had gotten himself into a few precarious situations in the pursuit of renegade pop cans. He sold these cans as scrap metal, which struck me as odd. None of us were hurting for money in the mill. Still, Dynamo’s scavenging was strangely refreshing. I had already given up my recycling campaign with the water bottles, and it was nice to see that someone still had a feverish desire to reuse and repurpose the mill’s waste.
