Every time money-- the irresistible stuff-- tangles my not-inborn-greedy mind, I always doubt whence its glamor springs. I put myself into this time-consuming experiment as a guinea pig; year in, year out, I have tried extremely hard probing into every possibility. Finally, I can tiptoe near a conclusion. I am not so much envious of the possession of money as afraid of the very absence of it. Without this sine qua non of life, life can be literally lifeless. The above-mentioned assumption is derived from the episodes my parents and I myself are facing. For want of money (the mere amount for everyday life), my health and their indispensable hobby are both under threat: treatment entails money, so is their recently-acquired hobby which makes them feel reborn. Money in our case is not for luxury, but some basic elements of life, namely the maintainence. Mentally and physically alike, we are unable to fare well without it; all the ensuing hesitation and unwillingness are symptoms of failing to own it a bit more. Under this circumstance, we are inspired, if not forced, to think, and almost act, like the poor. Poverty is not yet a term that looms unbearably large in my present life, but no guarantee can be made for the same sound future to come. Therefore, it seems that I am now running after money the way willing lemming does. It is a gross misunderstanding. In fact, I am just running away from the clutches of povery like crazy. --

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