As I often do, this morning I revisited a movie I saw a few years ago, The Constant Gardener.
In that movie, a British activist and a Kenyan doctor work to expose the pharmaceutical companies that experiment with new drugs on Kenyan people, who die from the experimental drugs. The activist and the doctor get gunned down by Kenyan hired thugs.
No big deal, so why am I weeping every time I think of it?
So this morning I looked at it.
This is what I saw:
It’s a purely cultural rule to see value in life. Without that rule, human gre
I wonder if you ever pondered where nightmares like most Doctor Who stories are, come from?
