She scoffed. "That’s not in any pharmacopoeia."
And in the faculty library, under a dusty glass case, Ion Fulga’s leather journal still sits. Its final entry, written in shaky hand the week before he died, reads: “Remember: Pharmacology is the grammar. Compassion is the sentence. Without both, you are just making noise.” Below it, a single dried milk thistle flower, pressed like a bookmark between the pages of a life. ion fulga farmacologie
"That's not science," Ana said. "That's anecdote." She scoffed