Micah Azariah

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“What do you mean?” he asked. “I mean, do you try to determine if the ore came from child labor like Arran uses or some other kind of abuse?” He laughed and lit a cigarette in the candle at our dining table. “One does not ask such questions here,” he said. “Why not?” “There would be no cobalt left to buy.”
Cobalt Red: How the Blood of the Congo Powers Our Lives
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