For a long time, I believed technology could save the world.

I thought that if I learned enough, built enough, understood technology deeply enough, and kept pushing through difficult problems, I would eventually find better ways for people to live and work.

Whenever I saw an inefficient system, my instinct was to digitise it.

Whenever I saw people doing something manually, I thought there should be an app for it.

Whenever I saw an industry moving slowly, I assumed technology was the answer.

And when people resisted a new technology, I often saw that resistance as the problem.

Why wouldn't they adopt the better tool?

Why were organisations still working this way?

Why couldn't people see that this new system was faster, smarter, or more modern?

I thought the technology was ahead and people simply needed to catch up.

Over time, I started to realise that this way of thinking was incomplete.

Before: Technology as the answer

For the past ten years, I have constantly thought about startups, products and side projects.

I enjoyed looking at problems and imagining software that could solve them.

Part of that came from genuine curiosity. Building things is exciting. Technology gives you the feeling that almost anything can be redesigned.

But there was also an assumption underneath it:

If something is broken, there must be a technological solution.

So I kept looking for things to build.

A better platform.

A better workflow.