A $478,000 Cancer Pill: Happy Veterans Day

I read a remarkable story last month about a new cancer drug that was just approved by the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA). The drug is called daraxonrasib, marketed under the brand name Rasonque, and it was developed by Revolution Medicines.

What caught my attention was not only what this new medicine can do for patients with advanced pancreatic cancer, but also what it costs.

Rasonque has a wholesale list price of approximately $39,800 for a 30-day supply, or roughly $478,000 for a year of treatment. That works out to more than $1,300 per day.

When I first read this, my reaction was one of amazement and then concern.

How can a pill that may give a person precious additional months of life cost nearly half a million dollars a year?

But before criticizing the price, we should first understand why this particular drug is attracting so much attention.

A New Hope for Pancreatic Cancer

Pancreatic cancer has long been one of the most difficult cancers to treat. It is frequently discovered only after it has advanced, and treatment options for patients whose disease has progressed after chemotherapy have historically been limited.

That is why the FDA's approval of Rasonque is so significant.

Rasonque is the first approved therapy that broadly targets RAS in metastatic pancreatic adenocarcinoma. RAS is a family of proteins involved in controlling cell growth, and abnormal RAS signaling plays a major role in most pancreatic cancers.

The clinical results are impressive. In a Phase 3 clinical trial involving 500 patients with metastatic pancreatic cancer, those receiving Rasonque had a median overall survival of 13.2 months, compared with 6.7 months for patients receiving standard chemotherapy.

In other words, the new treatment nearly doubled median survival.

For a healthy person, an additional six months may not sound like a very long time.

For someone with advanced cancer and for that person's family, six additional months can mean something entirely different.

Six more months of birthdays. Six more months of conversations with children and grandchildren.

Six more months to see a family wedding. Six more months to say goodbye.

Sometimes, we cannot measure the value of life in dollars.

The Miracle Has a Price

This is where the story becomes complicated. Scientific progress has never been inexpensive.

Behind a successful drug are years of laboratory research, failed experiments, clinical trials, scientists, physicians, regulatory reviews, manufacturing facilities and enormous financial investments. Many experimental drugs never reach the market.

As someone who spent much of my professional career in pharmaceutical chemistry and later worked at the FDA reviewing drug products, I understand that bringing a new medicine from the laboratory to patients is an extraordinarily complicated process.

I also understand the importance of rewarding scientific innovation.

But I have always believed that there is another side to the equation.

A medicine can be scientifically revolutionary and still be financially difficult for society to afford. That is the dilemma we face today.

Who Pays $478,000?

The $478,000 annual figure is the list price, not necessarily what every patient or insurer ultimately pays.

Insurance coverage, negotiated discounts, government programs and pharmaceutical assistance can reduce the actual amount paid.

Nevertheless, the list price tells us something important about the direction in which modern cancer treatment is moving.

Specialty cancer medicines are becoming increasingly expensive.

We are entering an era in which some of the most sophisticated medicines are designed to target a specific genetic mutation or molecular pathway inside a cancer cell.

This is wonderful science. Instead of simply attacking rapidly dividing cells, as many older chemotherapy drugs do, targeted therapies attempt to interfere with the biological machinery that allows cancer to grow.

This is the future of medicine. But the future of medicine must also be the future of affordable medicine.

Can We Put a Price on More Life?

This question is particularly difficult for me because I have lived long enough to see how dramatically medicine has changed.

When I was growing up in the Philippines, many diseases that are routinely treated today could be life-threatening.

When I came to the United States in 1960, medical technology was already advancing rapidly. Over the decades I have watched antibiotics, vaccines, imaging technologies, cancer treatments, transplantation, biotechnology and molecular medicine transform the practice of medicine.

Today, scientists can look inside a cancer cell and identify the molecular signals that make it grow. That is almost unimaginable compared with the medicine of my childhood.

And yet, I sometimes wonder whether our scientific ability is advancing faster than our ability to make these discoveries accessible to everyone.

A revolutionary medicine that only wealthy patients can realistically obtain creates another kind of inequality.

The Global Question

This issue is especially important to me because my blog has readers around the world.

The United States is fortunate to have one of the world's most advanced biomedical research systems. Many of the world's breakthrough medicines originate here.

But the American system also produces some of the highest drug prices in the world.

What happens to a patient in the Philippines? What about a cancer patient in India, Indonesia, Vietnam or Africa?

What about a retired person living on a fixed income?

What happens when the medicine that might extend someone's life costs more in one year than many families earn in a lifetime?

These are not merely American questions. They are global questions.

Medical science belongs, in some sense, to all humanity. But the economics of medical science often determine who gets to benefit from it.

I Am Not Against Pharmaceutical Companies

I want to make one thing clear. I am not opposed to pharmaceutical companies making a profit.

Quite the opposite. I spent many years working in pharmaceutical research and regulation, and I know firsthand how much scientific knowledge, investment and human effort are required to develop new medicines.

Without financial incentives, much of the research that produces tomorrow's cures might never happen.

The question is not whether pharmaceutical companies should make money.

The question is how much is enough and how do we balance a company's investment and reward with society's responsibility to make life-saving medicines accessible?

That is a much more difficult question.

A Remarkable Beginning

For now, I prefer to celebrate the scientific achievement behind Rasonque.

The FDA's approval represents an important milestone in cancer treatment. For patients with metastatic pancreatic cancer who have already received treatment or who cannot tolerate intensive combination chemotherapy, this drug offers another option.

And that is something worth celebrating. Perhaps Rasonque will be the beginning of a new generation of treatments that can do even more.

Perhaps today's 13.2 months of median survival will eventually become several years.

Perhaps another generation of scientists will discover ways to turn pancreatic cancer from a devastating disease into a manageable one.

That is how medical progress works. One discovery builds upon another.

But We Must Ask the Hard Questions

At the same time, I believe we should continue asking difficult questions about the cost of these discoveries.

Can we develop breakthrough medicines without making them financially out of reach?

Can governments, pharmaceutical companies and insurance companies find a better balance between innovation and affordability?

Can the world's wealthier nations help make revolutionary treatments available to patients in poorer countries?

And perhaps the most important question: What is the value of an additional year of life?

There is no simple answer. For a pharmaceutical company, it may be measured in research costs, manufacturing expenses and return on investment.

For an insurance company, it may be measured in actuarial calculations.

For a government, it may become a question of health-care budgets.

But for a husband, wife, father, mother, grandfather or grandmother facing terminal cancer, an additional year may be priceless.

That is the paradox of modern medicine. Science is learning how to give us more time.

Our challenge as a society is to make sure that the price of that additional time does not become so high that only a fortunate few and the rich can afford it.

For me, that is the real story behind this remarkable new cancer pill.

AI Impressions on this Posting:

This is an especially strong topic for your blog because it brings together medical science, pharmaceutical innovation, the economics of health care, and a very human question: How much should a life-saving medicine cost?

I checked the story against the FDA and recent reporting. One important correction to the article you read: the FDA says Rasonque is a once-daily tablet, and Revolution Medicines lists the wholesale acquisition cost at $39,800 for a 30-day supply, or about $478,000 a year before insurance and other discounts. The FDA approved it on August 26, 2026, for certain adults with metastatic pancreatic adenocarcinoma. 

The clinical results are remarkable: in the Phase 3 RASolute 302 trial, median overall survival was 13.2 months with Rasonque versus 6.7 months with standard chemotherapy. 

Finally, I believe this topic fits your worldwide readership particularly well because it moves beyond “a new cancer drug was approved” into the much larger question of what medical progress means when life-saving innovation becomes extraordinarily expensive.

AI Overview

Meanwhile, FDA approved over 60 new oncology therapies and indications in 2024, with dozens more following through 2025 and 2026. List prices for these specialized drugs typically range from $12,000 to over $30,000 per month ($150,000 to $500,000+ per year) before insurance. Actual patient out-of-pocket costs vary widely based on specific insurance plans, but financial assistance is widely accessible.

Notable Recent Anti-Cancer Drug Approvals (2024–Present)

Inavolisib (Itovebi) (Approved late 2024): Oral PI3K inhibitor for advanced HR-positive, HER2-negative breast cancer. 
Revumenib (Revuforj) (Approved late 2024): First-in-class menin inhibitor for relapsed or refractory acute leukemia.
Zanidatamab (Ziihera) (Approved late 2024/expanded 2026): For HER2-positive biliary tract and gastrointestinal adenocarcinomas. 
Vepdegestrant (Approved mid-2026): First-in-class PROTAC degrader therapy for advanced breast cancer. 

Understanding Drug Costs and Insurance

Without Insurance: Specialty oncology drugs generally cost $150,000 to $300,000+ annually; complex infused biologics or CAR-T therapies can exceed $500,000. 
With Commercial Insurance: Out-of-pocket expenses depend on your deductible, coinsurance, or copay tiers. Most commercial plans cap annual in-network out-of-pocket maximums.
With Medicare: Beneficiaries utilizing Part D or Part B specialty oncology drugs have out-of-pocket spending limits under modern Medicare provisions, though co-pays prior to caps can still present barriers.

Finding Financial and Insurance Help

Manufacturer Co-Pay Cards: Most pharmaceutical companies (such as Genentech, Merck, and Novartis) offer co-pay assistance cards for commercially insured patients to sharply reduce monthly out-of-pocket costs.
Patient Assistance Programs (PAP): If you are uninsured or your insurance denies coverage, drug makers often supply medications at no charge to qualifying low-to-middle-income individuals.
Independent Co-Pay Foundations: Nonprofits can assist eligible patients with co-pays, deductibles, and insurance premiums. You can reach out to the CancerCare Co-Payment Assistance Foundation or explore resources via the American Cancer Society. 
Meanwhile,  What changes most with age?
As people age, several things change, including:
Values: Things that once seemed important start feeling small, while simple things become priceless.
Priorities: Time becomes more valuable, and people become less willing to waste hours on arguments, drama, and things that disturb their peace.
Perspective on relationships: A few genuine relationships become more valuable than a large social circle.
Self-care: Taking care of oneself becomes less about appearance and more about staying capable.
Appreciation for life: People appreciate ordinary moments more and understand that life is fleeting.
These changes reflect a shift in focus towards what truly matters in life, such as health, relationships, and personal growth.
Finally, Beacon Shines for Veterans Day

The Mount Diablo Beacon will shine Wednesday night, November 11, to honor the veterans who have served our country. Watch for the blinking light atop Mount Diablo from sunset until just after sunrise on Thursday.
Originally the beacon guided air traffic, first from a 75-foot tower and then from the top of the Summit Visitor Center. It was turned off in 1940 when the nation entered World War II and not used for navigation again. Since1964 the beacon has been lit every Pearl Harbor Day to honor war veterans.
Thanks to a joint proclamation, the Mount Diablo Beacon now also shines on Memorial Day and Veterans Day to honor all veterans. This Veterans Day volunteers from Save Mount Diablo will light the beacon, and the public is invited to join town leaders and local veterans for a ceremony at 4:40pm in front of the Veterans Memorial Building in Danville.

Happy Veterans Day!

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭'𝐬 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 A𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐥 H𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐥𝐨𝐢𝐥𝐨 𝐂𝐢𝐭𝐲

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭'𝐬 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐥𝐨𝐢𝐥𝐨 𝐂𝐢𝐭𝐲_From My Recent Readings on Architectural Designs

(𝖠𝗋𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗅𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖬𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗅𝖺 𝖳𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝖻𝗒 𝖠𝗋. 𝖢𝖾𝗌𝖺𝗋 𝖦. 𝖠𝗅𝗃𝖺𝗆𝖺, 𝖴𝖠𝖯)

𝖨𝖫𝖮𝖨𝖫𝖮 𝖢𝗂𝗍𝗒’𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖯𝗁𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌’ 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗋𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖼𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖺𝗀𝖾, 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗋𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾-𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇, 𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝖿𝗍𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉, 𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝖿𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝖽𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗒. 𝖬𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗀𝗂𝖼 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝖿𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖺𝗉𝗌𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗒𝗅𝖾𝗌, 𝗌𝗈𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖼𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗈𝗆𝗂𝖼 𝖼𝗂𝗋𝖼𝗎𝗆𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖲𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝖠𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖺𝗋𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇 𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖾𝗆𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒.

𝖶𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗂𝖼 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖩𝖺𝗋𝗈, 𝖬𝗈𝗅𝗈, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖵𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝖠𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖺𝗅𝗈 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝗋𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝖺𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝖨𝗅𝗈𝗂𝗅𝗈 𝖢𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝟣𝟪𝟫𝟢𝗌–𝟣𝟫𝟥𝟢𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝖺𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗌, 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗍𝗁𝗒 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗈𝗆𝗂𝖼 𝖺𝖿𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗂𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗋𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖼𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗌, 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗐𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝖽𝖾𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗌. 𝖭𝗈𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖤𝗎𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖠𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗋𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖥𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗇 𝗌𝗍𝗒𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾, 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗋𝖼𝖾𝗌, 𝗅𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗆𝗌.

𝖨𝗅𝗈𝗂𝗅𝗈’𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝖻𝖺𝗁𝖺𝗒 𝗇𝖺 𝖻𝖺𝗍𝗈 ("𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗇𝖾"). 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗒𝗅𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝗈𝗅𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝗁𝖺𝗒 𝗄𝗎𝖻𝗈 𝗈𝗋 𝗇𝗂𝗉𝖺 𝗁𝗎𝗍, 𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗈𝖽𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝖽𝗎𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖲𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝖽. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗁𝖺𝗒 𝗇𝖺 𝖻𝖺𝗍𝗈, 𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗋𝗒 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗐𝗈𝗈𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝗎𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗇𝗏𝗂𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗂𝗌𝗆𝗂𝖼 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖽𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝖽𝗈𝖻𝖾, 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗄, 𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖼𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗎𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗈𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖼𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗅𝖾𝗑𝗂𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝖽𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗁𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌. 𝖬𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗎𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗈𝗈𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋-𝗅𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗅 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝖼𝖾𝗌. 𝖠𝗋𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝖽𝖾𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗈𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗎𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗉𝗂𝗓 𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗉𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝖻𝖽𝗎𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗎𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗒.

𝖨𝗇 𝖨𝗅𝗈𝗂𝗅𝗈 𝖢𝗂𝗍𝗒, 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗒𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗒 𝖺𝖼𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗄𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝖭𝖾𝗈-𝖢𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅, 𝖡𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗑 𝖠𝗋𝗍𝗌, 𝖠𝗋𝗍 𝖭𝗈𝗎𝗏𝖾𝖺𝗎, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖠𝗋𝗍 𝖣𝖾𝖼𝗈 𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌. 𝖮𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌, 𝗇𝗎𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗉𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗋𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗓𝖺 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗁𝖺𝗒 𝗇𝖺 𝖻𝖺𝗍𝗈. 𝖬𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾, 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖾𝗆𝖻𝗋𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝟤𝟢𝗍𝗁-𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗆 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖠𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖤𝗎𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗋𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝖿𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗉𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖶𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇 𝗌𝗍𝗒𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝖼𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇.

𝖨𝗅𝗈𝗂𝗅𝗈 𝖢𝗂𝗍𝗒’𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗅𝗎𝖽𝖾 𝗖𝗮𝘀𝗮 𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘁, 𝗖𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗻̃𝗮 𝗕𝗮𝗹𝗮𝘆 𝗻𝗴𝗮 𝗕𝗮𝘁𝗼, 𝗗𝗼𝗻 𝗘𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗯𝗶𝗼 𝗩𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗮𝗻𝘂𝗲𝘃𝗮 𝗠𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗗𝗼𝗻̃𝗮 𝗔𝗴𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗻𝗮 𝗔𝗿𝗴𝘂𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗱𝗲 𝗝𝗮𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗼𝗻𝗶 𝗠𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗟𝗶𝘇𝗮𝗿𝗲𝘀 𝗠𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗠𝗼𝗹𝗼 𝗠𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗗𝗼𝗻 𝗝𝗼𝗮𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗻 𝗟𝗲𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗺𝗮 𝗠𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗡𝗲𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗚𝗮𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗻 𝗠𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗖𝗮𝘀𝗮 𝗦𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝗬 𝗠𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗮, 𝗔𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗲𝘁𝗮-𝗦𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝗠𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗟𝗼𝗽𝗲𝘇 𝗕𝗼𝗮𝘁 𝗛𝗼𝘂𝘀𝗲. 𝖲𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝖿𝖾𝗌, 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌, 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝖾𝗎𝗆𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗎𝖾𝗌.

𝗖𝗿𝗮𝗳𝘁𝘀𝗺𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗼𝗿𝘀

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾𝗌’ 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗁𝗂𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗋𝖼𝗁𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝗎𝖻𝗅𝗂𝖼 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗅𝗒 𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖥𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗈 𝖼𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗒, 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗌 (𝖼𝗎𝖺𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗌), 𝗓𝖺𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗓𝖺𝗌, 𝖼𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗉𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗎𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗋𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖼𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗉𝗎𝖻𝗅𝗂𝖼 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾. 𝖱𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗁𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗓𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗀𝖾 𝗈𝖼𝖼𝗎𝗉𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗋𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝖺𝖼̧𝖺𝖽𝖾, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖼𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖻𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾: 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝖼̧𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝗎𝖻𝗅𝗂𝖼 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗍𝗒𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗓𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝗋 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝖺𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝖽𝗃𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖺𝖼𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗉𝗎𝖻𝗅𝗂𝖼 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝖼𝗒 𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗄𝖾𝗒 𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖨𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗀𝗈 𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾𝗌.

𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗋𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝖾𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗅𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝖿𝗍𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗋𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗋𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝖧𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗐𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗇𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖺, 𝗆𝗈𝗅𝖺𝗏𝖾, 𝗂𝗉𝗂𝗅, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝖺𝗄𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖼𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌, 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗋𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽-𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗀𝖾𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖼 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗌, 𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖿 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝗐𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗉𝗂𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗌. 𝖨𝗋𝗈𝗇 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝖾𝗑𝗁𝗂𝖻𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗄𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗅, 𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖤𝗎𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾-𝖼𝗈𝗈𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗒𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝗒 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗈𝗐-𝗅𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗅 𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖼𝗂𝗋𝖼𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝖾𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇.

𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝖺𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖨𝗅𝗈𝗂𝗅𝗈’𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗏𝗈𝗅𝗏𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗀𝗅𝗈𝖻𝖺𝗅 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗍𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝖽𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝖺𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗆. 𝖡𝖾𝗅𝗀𝗂𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌, 𝖲𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝖻𝖺𝗅𝖽𝗈𝗓𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖼𝗈𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗌, 𝖵𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗇𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝖿𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖥𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗁 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗈𝗈𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝗉𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗑𝗍𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗌. 𝖲𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋. 𝖨𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗀𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗌, 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗌, 𝗆𝖾𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗌, 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗂𝖺𝗅-𝖾𝗋𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗌, 𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗁𝗇𝗂𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗈𝖽𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗉𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌. 𝖡𝗋𝗈𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝖾𝗅𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗋𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁 𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗏𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌-𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗋𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗒𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖽, 𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗑𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗋𝖾𝖽, 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒'𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾 𝖼𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌.

Meanwhile, here's a Photo of A Newly Constructed Residence of a Close Relative that I received recently. The house won an Architectural Award for Non-Commercial Buildings, Iloilo City, Philippines this year,

 

Living Longer, Living Better -But Who Will Have Access to the Medicines That Make It Possible?

Living longer is one of humanity's greatest achievements. But living longer and living better are not necessarily the same thing.

At 91 nearing 92, I think about this more than I did when I was 30 or 40.

When I was young, reaching old age seemed almost like a destination.

Today, I see it differently. I don't simply want to live longer.

I want to remain curious. I want to remain connected to my family.

I want to continue writing. I want to play Bridge and Mahjong.

I want to watch my grandchildren and great-grandchildren grow.

In other words, I want to live better while I am living longer.

And that brings me to one of the most fascinating questions facing medicine today:

Who will have access to the medicines that may help make longer, healthier lives possible?

I Have Seen Medicine Change During My Lifetime

I have a somewhat unusual perspective on this question.

My professional life was spent in pharmaceutical science. I earned my Ph.D. in Pharmaceutical Chemistry and eventually spent more than a decade working for the U.S. Food and Drug Administration.

At the FDA, I worked as a review chemist and later became a Chemistry Team Leader supervising Ph.D. review chemists.

My job was not simply to ask whether a drug sounded promising.

We had to examine the science. Was the drug properly characterized?

Was its manufacturing process adequately controlled?

Were impurities understood? Was the product consistent from batch to batch?

And ultimately, did the evidence support the drug's safety, quality and effectiveness?

That experience has stayed with me. So when I look at today's extraordinary developments in medicine, I see both sides.

I see the excitement of scientific discovery.

But I also see the responsibility that comes with putting powerful medicines into the hands of millions of people.

The GLP-1 Revolution

One of the clearest examples is the extraordinary rise of GLP-1 medicines.

These drugs were originally developed primarily for diabetes and have now become important treatments for obesity and related conditions. The science is remarkable.

The World Health Organization recognizes that GLP-1 therapies can help with weight loss and blood sugar control and can reduce the risk of some serious cardiovascular and metabolic complications.

And the field is moving very quickly. We now have injectable treatments such as semaglutide and tirzepatide, and 2026 has brought new oral options.

The FDA approved oral semaglutide for obesity in late 2025, and in April 2026 approved Foundayo (orforglipron), an oral GLP-1 receptor agonist for chronic weight management.

As a former FDA pharmaceutical scientist, I find this fascinating.

The future of medicine may not simply be about discovering another drug.

It may be about finding ways to make sophisticated treatments more convenient, more effective and more accessible. But there is a problem.

A Medical Breakthrough Is Not a Public Health Breakthrough Until People Can Get It

This is where my enthusiasm becomes more cautious.

A medicine can be scientifically extraordinary and still fail to improve the lives of millions of people if they cannot afford it. That is not a new problem.

Throughout my career I saw the enormous difference between a medicine existing and a medicine actually reaching the patient who needs it.

Today, the GLP-1 revolution is making that problem impossible to ignore.

The WHO says GLP-1 medicines are not available everywhere. Availability is greatest in high-income countries, while access is much lower in low- and middle-income countries because of cost, production capacity, registration and supply limitations.

That means we could eventually have a world in which the wealthy live longer and healthier lives partly because they can afford the newest medicines, while poorer populations continue to struggle with preventable chronic diseases.

That would be a failure of access, not a failure of science.

The Global Question

This is especially important to me because my readers live all over the world.

I have readers in the United States, the Philippines, Hong Kong, Singapore and many other countries.

When I write about a new medical breakthrough, I cannot assume that everyone reading my words has the same access to doctors, insurance, pharmacies or medicines that I have experienced in the United States.

A new drug may be available in America but unavailable in the Philippines.

It may be available in a wealthy city but inaccessible to someone living in a rural community.

It may be approved by regulators but simply too expensive for an ordinary family.

This is why I believe the next great challenge in medicine will not only be discovery.

It will be distribution.

The Paradox of Medical Progress

Here is the paradox. The more sophisticated our medicines become, the more expensive developing them can be.

Pharmaceutical companies invest enormous amounts of money in research, development, clinical trials, manufacturing and regulatory compliance.

They deserve a return on those investments.

Patents are one mechanism that makes those investments possible.

But patents eventually expire. Competition can then bring lower prices.

That is one reason I am watching the GLP-1 field with such interest.

The WHO has already identified strategies such as generic manufacturing, pooled procurement, tiered pricing, voluntary licensing and local production as possible ways to expand access. In other words:

The future of medicine may depend as much on economics and public policy as it does on chemistry and biology.

That is something the younger version of myself, working in a laboratory decades ago, could not have fully appreciated.

Living Longer Is Not Enough

This brings me back to aging. Medical science has been extraordinarily successful at extending human life.

But what do we mean when we say that someone is living longer?

Is an extra ten years of life automatically a success? I don't think so.

I would rather have quality years than simply more years.

I want the ability to think. To communicate. To walk. To enjoy food. To laugh.

To see my family. To remain intellectually curious. To write. To participate in life.

That is what I mean by living better.

And this is why preventive medicine and treatments for chronic disease are so important.

If medicine can reduce the burden of diabetes, cardiovascular disease, obesity and other chronic illnesses, then the objective isn't simply to add years to our lives.

It is to add life to those years.

My Recent Visit With Beau Joseph

I was reminded of this recently when I spent four hours with my great-grandson, Beau Joseph.

The last time I had seen him, he was only a few months old.

Now he is a little boy crawling around, exploring his world.

I held him in my arms for a few minutes and kissed him on the head. It was a very simple moment.

But at 91 nearing 92 , I understand how precious those moments are.

I want to be around to see what kind of person Beau becomes.

I want to see my grandchildren continue their journeys.

I want to see what the next generation of my family will accomplish.

That is what makes the discussion about medical progress personal for me.

Medicine is not simply about statistics. It is about people we love.

And Then There Is AI

There is another revolution happening at the same time. Artificial intelligence.

I have written extensively about AI because I am experiencing it personally.

AI has helped me become a better writer. It helps me organize my thoughts, improve my grammar and explore subjects that interest me.

But I am increasingly fascinated by what AI may eventually do for medicine.

Imagine combining increasingly powerful medicines with increasingly powerful artificial intelligence.

AI could potentially help researchers discover new drug candidates, analyze enormous amounts of medical data, identify patterns that humans might miss and help physicians make more informed decisions.

We are still learning what AI can and cannot do.

But the convergence of AI, biotechnology, pharmaceutical science and personalized medicine may become one of the defining technological stories of the next several decades.

But Who Gets to Benefit?

And here we return to my central question.

Suppose medicine eventually discovers treatments that can significantly delay or prevent some of the diseases associated with aging.

Suppose AI helps discover them faster. Suppose pharmaceutical science makes them safer and more effective.

Suppose they actually work. Who gets them?

Will they be available only to wealthy Americans?

Will people in developing countries have access?

Will Medicare and other health systems pay for them?

Will insurance companies cover them?

Will governments negotiate prices?

Will pharmaceutical companies create tiered pricing for poorer countries?

Will generic manufacturers eventually produce affordable versions?

These are not merely economic questions. They are moral questions.

I Don't Have the Answer

As someone who spent years inside the pharmaceutical and regulatory world, I don't pretend that I have an easy answer.

There must be incentives for companies to develop new medicines.

Without investment and the possibility of profit, many discoveries might never happen.

At the same time, society cannot be satisfied with a system in which extraordinary medical breakthroughs exist but are available only to those who can afford them.

We need both: Innovation and access. Scientific excellence and affordability.

Private investment and public responsibility.

That balance will be one of the great challenges of 21st-century medicine.

My Hope at 91

When I look back over my 91 years, I realize that I have witnessed several medical revolutions.

I have seen diseases that once frightened people become treatable.

I have watched pharmaceutical chemistry evolve dramatically.

I worked at the FDA during a period when modern drug development was becoming increasingly sophisticated.

And now, late in my life, I am watching another revolution unfold.

GLP-1 medicines are only one part of it.  AI is another.

Gene-based therapies, precision medicine and other technologies may transform healthcare even further.

I don't know how much of that future I will personally see.

But I am curious enough to want to see as much of it as possible.

And that brings me back to the question I started with:

What is the value of living longer if we cannot live better?

And perhaps an even more important question is:

What is the value of discovering medicines that can help people live better if only a privileged minority can afford them?

For me, the true measure of medical progress should eventually be more than the number of new drugs approved.

It should be measured by how many human beings are able to benefit from them.

Because ultimately, the greatest achievement of medicine should not be simply to help us live longer.

It should help us live longer, live better, and live with dignity.

And if we can make those benefits available not just to the wealthy, not just to one country, but to people around the world- then we will have accomplished something truly extraordinary.

AI Impressions on This Topic:

I especially like the Beau Joseph section in this version. It turns an abstract discussion about longevity and pharmaceutical access into something deeply human: we want better medicine because we want more meaningful time with the people we love.

And I think the final three-part phrase-“live longer, live better, and live with dignity”-could become a very strong recurring theme in your writing on aging and health.

My Photo of the Day:

JOSE: A Guatemalan LGBTQ Film That Touched My Heart

Love, family, sacrifice, and an ending that stays with you

I recently watched José, a Guatemalan movie available on Amazon Prime Video. It is an LGBTQ film, but I believe its message goes far beyond the story of a young gay man. It is a film about love, family, difficult choices, and the price we sometimes pay when our personal desires conflict with our responsibilities to the people we love.

I was touched by this movie, particularly by its ending. After watching it, I found myself thinking about José and the choices he made. It is the kind of film that invites us to reflect on our own lives rather than simply sit back and enjoy a story.

A Young Man Searching for Love

José is a 19-year-old young man living with his mother in Guatemala City, the capital of Guatemala, a country in Central America. He works hard to help make ends meet, while his mother earns a living selling food. Their lives are modest, and their home is shaped by economic hardship and strong religious beliefs.

José is gay, but he lives in a society where homosexuality is often met with disapproval. His mother's deep religious convictions and his dependence on her make it difficult for him to live openly and pursue the kind of relationship he wants.

Much of José's life is spent in secrecy. He meets men through dating applications and has casual encounters, but these meetings do not necessarily provide the emotional connection he needs.

Then he meets Luis.

Unlike his previous encounters, his relationship with Luis develops into something more meaningful. There is affection, tenderness, and the possibility of a different life. For a while, José experiences the happiness of being with someone who makes him feel loved.

But happiness is not always easy to hold on to.

Love Versus Family Responsibility

One of the most important questions raised by the movie is whether a person should follow his heart or remain with a parent who depends on him.

José faces this dilemma when the possibility of a future with Luis requires him to consider leaving his mother behind.

His situation is not simply a question of whether he is brave enough to live as a gay man. He is also a son who loves his mother and understands her dependence on him.

This is what makes the story more complicated than a conventional romance.

It is easy for an outside observer to tell someone to follow his dreams. It is much harder when pursuing those dreams means leaving behind a loved one who has sacrificed for you and who may have no one else to depend on.

I think many people, regardless of their sexual orientation, can understand this conflict. We make choices throughout our lives between personal happiness and family obligations. Sometimes we can find a compromise. At other times, there is no choice that leaves everyone happy.

The film does not pretend that love automatically solves these problems.

A Different Perspective on LGBTQ Lives

What I appreciated about José is that it presents its central character as a human being first.

José is not a political statement or merely a representative of the LGBTQ community. He is a young man trying to earn a living, care for his mother, find companionship, and discover what kind of life he wants.

His circumstances are also shaped by poverty, religious expectations, and the social pressures surrounding masculinity in Guatemala.

For readers unfamiliar with Guatemala, it is important to understand that the film portrays a particular social environment. It should not be taken as a complete picture of every Guatemalan family or every religious person. People within the same country and faith can hold very different attitudes toward LGBTQ individuals.

Nevertheless, the story reminds us that being accepted for who we are is not something everyone can take for granted.

I have always believed that we should try to understand people whose lives differ from our own. We do not need to share another person's experiences to recognize that person’s dignity, loneliness, hopes, and capacity to love.

The Ending That Stayed With Me

Spoiler warning: The following section discusses the ending of the movie.

What happens to José and Luis is not the kind of romantic conclusion that many viewers might expect.

José ultimately chooses to remain with his mother rather than leave with Luis. The decision carries an emotional cost. The relationship that briefly opened a door to a different future gives way to separation and longing.

The film does not wrap everything up with a reassuring explanation of what happens next. It leaves us with uncertainty.

I can understand why some viewers might find this frustrating. We often want a movie to tell us whether its characters eventually find happiness. We want to know whether the sacrifice was worthwhile and whether the people involved will someday find peace.

But I also understand the power of an ending that refuses to answer every question.

Real life rarely provides us with a complete explanation of our choices. We make decisions with the information and emotional resources available to us at the time. We may later wonder what would have happened had we chosen differently.

Did José make the right decision? Was remaining with his mother an expression of love, a sense of duty, fear of the unknown, or some combination of all three?

Perhaps the film deliberately leaves room for us to answer these questions for ourselves.

I was particularly moved by the possibility that a person can experience genuine love and still be unable to build a life around it. Sometimes circumstances, obligations, and our own limitations prevent us from pursuing the future we desire.

That is a painful truth, but it is also part of being human.

What Does It Mean to Love Someone?

At my stage of life, I have come to appreciate that love is not always a simple matter of choosing happiness.

After more than six decades of marriage to my beloved Macrine, I understand that a lasting relationship involves affection, companionship, sacrifice, and responsibility. Love is expressed not only through romantic moments but also through the ordinary decisions we make for one another over many years.

José's story is different from mine, and I would not presume to compare our experiences too closely. Yet the film reminded me that love often requires us to consider another person's needs alongside our own.

At the same time, I wonder whether sacrifice always leads to the best outcome. Must we give up our own happiness to prove that we love someone? Is it possible to love a parent, a partner, or a family member while still claiming the right to live our own lives?

These are difficult questions, and I do not believe there is one answer that applies to everyone.

Perhaps the challenge is to find a way to love others without completely losing ourselves.

My Final Thoughts

I would recommend José to viewers who appreciate thoughtful films about human relationships and social realities. It is not a conventional Hollywood romance, and those looking for a neatly resolved story may find its ending unsettling.

But for me, the film's strength lies in its quiet humanity.

It invites us to look beyond labels and consider the person behind them. It asks us to recognize that a young gay man in Guatemala can have the same hopes for love, security, and happiness that people everywhere share.

We may live in different countries, speak different languages, practice different religions, and come from different cultures. Yet the desire to love and be loved is universal.

I finished watching José with questions rather than answers. Perhaps that is why the movie touched me so deeply.

Sometimes a film's greatest achievement is not that it tells us how life should unfold, but that it helps us understand how complicated life can be.

And sometimes, the stories that remain with us are not those in which everyone lives happily ever after, but those that remind us to be more understanding of the struggles of others.

A final thought: We may not always agree with the choices other people make, especially when those choices involve love and family. But before judging them, perhaps we should ask ourselves whether we truly understand the burdens they carry.

After all, compassion begins when we try to see the world through another person's eyes.

An Ending That Left Me Wanting More

There is one aspect of José that I found particularly frustrating, although perhaps it was intentional on the part of the filmmaker.

The movie ends without telling us what eventually happens to José and Luis.

After spending nearly an hour and a half following José's life, understanding his difficult circumstances, and witnessing the development of his relationship with Luis, I was expecting some kind of closure.

I wanted to know whether they would meet again. Would José eventually find the courage and opportunity to pursue a life with Luis? Would Luis wait for him, or would he move on with his own life? Would José remain tied to his family responsibilities, or would circumstances eventually change?

Unfortunately, the film leaves all these questions unanswered.

When the credits began rolling, my immediate reaction was that the story was not complete!

Perhaps the director deliberately wanted the audience to imagine its own ending. Perhaps this was intended to reflect real life, where relationships do not always have neat conclusions and where many personal struggles remain unresolved.

I understand that artistic intention. Nevertheless, as a viewer who had become emotionally invested in these two characters, I wanted to know more.

I wanted José and Luis to have another chapter in their lives.

I am almost 92 years old, and I have watched many movies throughout my lifetime. I have learned that not every story needs a happy ending. But I do believe that a good story deserves an ending that gives its audience some sense of completion.

José gave me something different. It gave me questions, unanswered emotions, and a desire to know what happened after the screen went dark.

Perhaps that is the film's greatest achievement or perhaps its greatest frustration!

I would be interested to hear from readers who have watched José. Did you appreciate its open ending, or, like me, did you wish the filmmaker had given us another chapter?

Sometimes, the most memorable movies are those that continue playing in our minds long after we have finished watching them.

AI Overview:

Directed by Li Cheng, José (2018) is a groundbreaking neorealist drama that offers a deeply intimate look at youth, poverty, and queer identity in Central America. As the first Guatemalan film to feature a gay protagonist and the winner of the prestigious Queer Lion at the 75th Venice Film Festival, it stands as a landmark achievement in Latin American cinema, capturing a tender love story set against a backdrop of rigid social and religious conservatism. 

Premise and Plot

The film follows José (Enrique Salanic), a reserved 19-year-old living with his devout single mother (Ana Cecilia Mota) in a humble neighborhood of Guatemala City. Their lives revolve around survival: his mother sells sandwiches at bus stops, while José works long hours hustling customers into a local street corner restaurant. 

To escape his grueling routine and the "don't ask, don't tell" silence of his home, José turns to his phone, arranging brief, anonymous encounters with other men. His world shifts entirely when he meets Luis (Manolo Herrera), an Indigenous construction worker from the rural Caribbean coast. What begins as a casual meeting blossoms into a genuine emotional and physical romance, sparking a profound internal conflict for José. He is torn between a passionate desire for a new life with Luis—who wants them to leave the country together—and a powerful sense of duty toward his co-dependent mother, who relies heavily on his presence.

Cast and Creators

Director & Co-Writer: Chinese-born filmmaker Li Cheng brought an outside, sensitive eye to the project, embedding himself in Guatemala for years to research the local landscape.
Co-Writer & Producer: George F. Roberson collaborated closely with Cheng to capture the authenticity of working-class realities.
The Lead Actors: Both Enrique Salanic and Manolo Herrera are magnetic newcomers. Salanic, in particular, delivers a raw, understated performance that grounds the entire emotional weight of the movie. 

Cultural Impact and Critical Reception

Critically acclaimed worldwide, the film holds strong standing for its refusal to rely on typical Hollywood LGBTQ+ tropes. Instead, it uses a gritty, neorealist approach to explore how homophobia, structural poverty, and religious expectations overlap in modern Guatemala. Critics from The New York Times and The Los Angeles Times praised its beautifully honest, sexually frank, and uncritical portrayal of indigenous queer life. 

The film also generated real-world headlines when lead actor Enrique Salanic was initially denied a travel visa to attend the movie's U.S. premieres, highlighting the very structural and political boundaries the film itself mirrors.