The gold buyer reaches out for the couple of ounces of gold-dust, held in a matchbox in my hand. He weighs it, then gives me his price. It is not even enough to buy food for the week. And I am nearing starvation. If I don't make a substantial find soon I am not sure how I will survive. Why must I continue in this ridiculous way of living? It is not as if I don't have a choice. It is time to stop this absurdity.