“My blood is in the letterbox, en route to the lab, and now there is no way back,” writes Freya Zandstra. ‘Do you know from those stories that you don’t want to know how they end? This is such. Could this end with ‘and she lived happily ever after’? Nobody dares to say it. At the end of this story I know if I live in a paradise infected with PFAS. ”
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