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Let’s Settle This: Is Psyllium Husk Really ‘Nature’s Ozempic’?

GI surgeon Dr Karan Rajan seems pretty fond of psyllium husk.
In a video posted last year, he extolled the virtues of the cheap, soluble fibre-rich supplement, explaining it can help to cure both constipation and diarrhoea.
It is also, he added, pointing to this 2021 review of studies, “useful in some types of IBS.”
But the surgeon never claimed, as others have, that the beneficial addition is “nature’s Ozempic.”
On social media, doctors like Dr Enaka Yembe claim that psyllium husk is a “poor man’s” alternative to GLP-1RI injections, or weight loss jabs like Ozempic or Mounjaro.
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But Dr Duane Mellor, spokesperson for the British Dietetic Association, said: “There’s no magic secret to the effects of psyllium husk – and most high fibre foods, like pulses and oats, will have a similar appetite curbing impact.”
So, we asked doctors what’s really going on.
There is some merit to the argument, but doctors don’t think it stacks up
Dr Brynna Connor, a family doctor and healthcare ambassador at North West Pharmacy, said that psyllium husk really can support weight loss.
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“Psyllium husk is a soluble fibre that absorbs water after consumption, which turns it into a gel-like substance that expands in the stomach,” she told HuffPost UK.
“This gel takes more time for your body to break down, which prolongs the feeling of fullness,” – which is the effect that weight loss injections aim to achieve, but through mimicking the GLP-1 hormone, instead.
Registered dietitian Avery Zenker added that, “Eating fibre can support the body’s own GLP-1 response,” though she adds, “it’s important to understand that this effect is much more modest and variable than what’s seen with GLP-1 medications like Ozempic.”
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So, Dr Connor pointed out, “calling it ‘nature’s Ozempic’ is misleading, as psyllium husk and Ozempic are two very different substances that function differently in the body.”
Additionally, she shared, “There haven’t been any head-to-head studies comparing the effects of psyllium husk and Ozempic on weight loss (however, the individual studies of psyllium husk and Ozempic show that Ozempic leads to greater weight loss).”
Does this mean psyllium husk isn’t helpful?
Not at all. Zenker says that, “Psyllium husk and oats are great sources of soluble fibre, which slows digestion, helps stabilise blood sugar, and can support a feeling of fullness.”
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It can also boost your microbiome, she stated.
Fibre is key to good heart, brain, and gut health, and even a reduced risk of bowel cancer. 90% of us do not eat the NHS-recommended 30g of fibre daily; the supplement may help you reach that goal.
Still, while psyllium husk is a welcome addition to many peoples’ diets (though you should consult your GP if you have a history of Crohn’s or intestinal blockages), no, it is not “nature’s Ozempic.”
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So, That Sweet Little Kid You Knew Grew Up To Be A Jerk…

You adored them as a kid – their joy, their wonder, their lopsided art projects and endless asking of “why?” But now they’re 19 and only care about TikTok, or designer shoes, or conspiracy podcasts.
Or maybe they’ve grown into someone you find unrecognisable, even unsettling.
It’s a quiet heartbreak many family members and caregivers face but rarely talk about: What do you do when a child you love grows into a teen or adult you don’t really… like anymore?
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Mandy Morris, a licensed professional counsellor and EMDR clinician, said it’s “a particular kind of heartbreak I find quietly devastating: when a child you once loved deeply grows into an adult whose beliefs or behaviours you find difficult, or even impossible, to reconcile with your values,” she said.
Maybe they’re casually cruel, deeply self-absorbed, or espousing problematic ideologies. Maybe they’re just… not who you hoped they’d be. Experts say all of the above are quite common, and that it’s OK to feel grief, anger and even guilt in relation to a beloved child who is now a confusing, semi-grown human.
Ahead, here are tips for how to process those feelings, how to find the line between individuality and harmful behaviour, and how to draw boundaries that protect your peace and the possibility of reconnection in the future.
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Selfish phase or a personality type?
It’s important to acknowledge that there are myriad reasons we may find ourselves disliking how a grown child is behaving at the moment. Each of those reasons falls somewhere on a wide spectrum – from disappointing to deeply deleterious. Let’s start with the former.
“When my goddaughter started going to this fancy private high school, everything changed,” said Liana*, in Tennessee. “Suddenly all she cared about was, I don’t know, absurdly expensive shoes? And we used to be super close when she was little, so now I’m like, I don’t know how to connect with her anymore. Do I just… buy her the shoes? Or is it my job to push back and call out that she’s become so superficial?”
Mary, an American who lives in Italy, said her stateside nephew’s “very obnoxious behaviours were never corrected when he was younger,” and it has led to difficulties being around him now that he’s older. As a little kid, “he could be fun and silly,” but as a teen he “doesn’t say hi… he’ll pull his hoodie around his face at the dinner table, he’ll barely utter a ‘thank you’ for gifts,” Mary explains. “Unfortunately, it’s hard not to blame the parenting.”
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Therapist Sloane Previdi specialises in families navigating boundaries and conflicts, and notes that the teen tendency towards selfishness or consumerism is certainly nothing new. But it’s important to remember that “as kids grow, they develop into their own person – shaped by many things outside your influence,” Previdi said.
To the aunties and godparents wondering what, exactly, your role should be when a beloved teen tends towards the selfish or misanthropic: “Your job isn’t to fix them,” Previdi said. Rather, your job is to stay grounded in your own values. “Hold space for complexity,” Previdi adds. “People change – but they don’t always do it on your timeline.”
When your fears are confirmed
Of course, sometimes you monitor the situation for a decade and realise that kid is now nearly 30 and certainly not going back to their old, big-hearted self anytime soon. Andrea, from New York, had to make some changes in how she deals with her younger brother due to his problematic politics.
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“We were very close as kids, and got each other through a lot of shit,” she said. “As he turned into a young adult, it started to emerge that he was more conservative. Which, OK, fine. Nowadays I’m nostalgic for the days when I was just ragging him for voting for Mitt Romney – oh, if only Mitt Romney were our problem in 2025!” Andrea says her brother’s vote for Trump in 2016 led to a real falling-out between them, and he started to post racist and transphobic comments.
“We didn’t speak for nearly a year,” Andrea said. “And it wasn’t because I was pissed; it was because he was pissed. He blocked me because I wasn’t on board with his politics.”
Today, they can at least see each other at family events — but only because they’ve made the unspoken decision to never talk politics.
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“It hurts my heart because the kid I love is in there somewhere,” Andrea said. “I want to believe that little kid believes in his heart that, you know, trans kids should have human rights. But I just don’t know.”
“That emotional dissonance — the clash between who they were and who they’ve become — isn’t just disorienting; it’s grief.”
– Mandy Morris, LPC, EMDR Therapist
Coming to terms with a loss like this – the loss of the brother Andrea imagined she’d grow up to have – is huge. Previdi said you may feel guilt or confusion towards a once-beloved child who has changed, and “it’s OK to feel all of that. But your love can remain, even if your relationship changes,” she explains. One of the best coping mechanisms, Previdi adds, is “accepting that love and disappointment can coexist.”
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“Maybe they’ve adopted ideologies rooted in misogyny, racism, or other forms of harm,” Morris said. “And maybe you remember when they were 8 years old and asked you to read them one more bedtime story. That emotional dissonance — the clash between who they were and who they’ve become – isn’t just disorienting; it’s grief. And not the kind of grief we’re taught to expect.”
Morris explains that psychologists call this “ambiguous loss,” a form of mourning that comes without a death “when the person is physically present but emotionally or morally unrecognisable,” she said.
What about Andrea’s decision to simply not talk about the issues with her brother? Therapist and licensed clinical social worker Jennifer Kelman said it’s a valid way to cope.
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“Sometimes, taking a step back and letting things be” can be a great compromise, Kelman said, especially “if you feel that if you voiced your opinions, that it could fracture the relationship.” On the other hand, “if you feel that the potential of the fracture is worth the risk, then it might be time to sit with this loved one and share your feelings.”
When behaviours cross the line
Alex, from North Carolina, has had to actively distance himself from a cousin whose behaviours took a turn for the worse.
“I grew up playing with my little cousin Brad all the time,” Alex said. “We’d go to the beach together every summer. Then, when I was in my 20s and he was an older teen, he would get drunk and kept trying to start physical fights with me.” Alex had begun to be successful in his career and had moved away from their small town. Meanwhile, he saw his younger cousin start leaning more into problematic stereotypes about masculinity and inciting violence.
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“I think it stems from mental health issues in the family that nobody talks about – which are often deeply rooted, Southern family dynamics,” Alex explains. As for the physical fights, “I refused to do it,” Alex said. He stopped seeing Brad entirely. Now in his 40s, he and his former favourite cousin are “not in touch. I don’t think he’s doing well. If I run into him by accident, he doesn’t ever look well.”
Alex said he knows many of Brad’s family members have struggled with drug abuse, and he assumes his little cousin has also gone down that path.
When “behaviours become harmful, such as with addiction and aggression, it’s time to set boundaries,” Previdi said. That doesn’t necessarily mean cutting someone off entirely. Instead, it can mean saying, “I love you, and I also won’t tolerate this behaviour.”
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“Dangerous or chronically dishonest behaviour deserves your firm limits,” Previdi adds. “It’s loving to say no to harm.”
Morris said that staying in connection with a problematic young person without sacrificing your own emotional safety “might look like declining certain conversations, stepping back from constant contact, or clearly stating what behaviours you won’t tolerate.” She reiterates that if the behaviour crosses into harm, whether physical, verbal, ideological, or psychological, “it’s not just acceptable to step away; it may be necessary.”
The pain behind the problem
Whether the grown kid you’re struggling with has veered into harmful territory or is just plain annoying, it’s important to remember that many “problematic” teens and young adults were once children conditioned to shut down their feelings, said Rachel Marmor, a licensed mental health counsellor.
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“The neurotic adaptations they made to survive often persist into adulthood, manifesting as cynicism, disconnection, or extremism,” she explains, adding that a young adult spewing hate or retreating into their phone is likely still protecting an old emotional wound.
So start with compassion.
“Be with that person and show your empathy, concern and care,” Kelman said, “and let them know that you are worried for them.” She urges adults not to judge or accuse, but rather “lend an open ear and a warm heart.” Marmor agrees, and says to “speak honestly, even if it’s painful. Invite emotional openness, even if it’s rejected.” Set your boundaries, but don’t give up on the possibility of connection in the future.
And remember: You’re not alone in your disappointment. “Many adults are grieving the loss of a child they once knew,” said Marmor. “But grief can open the door to a new kind of relationship — one based on the adult-to-adult honesty that allows for healing.”
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How to move forward
It’s not your job to save someone from the beliefs they’ve chosen to adopt. “You can’t out-love someone’s commitment to harmful thinking,” reminds Morris.
What you can do, however, is “choose what role you want to play going forward,” Morris adds. That might mean continuing to express care from a distance. It might mean breaking off the relationship.
“And it might mean holding space for the version of them you once knew,” she says, “while accepting that the present version is someone you have to relate to differently.”
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“Many adults are grieving the loss of a child they once knew. But grief can open the door to a new kind of relationship — one based on the adult-to-adult honesty that allows for healing.”
– Rachel Marmor, LMHC
Perhaps most importantly, though, if you’re struggling with a child you love turning into someone you don’t like or understand, know that disliking them doesn’t make you unloving.
“It makes you human,” Morris said. “And protecting your peace is not a betrayal of the bond you once had with that child. It may, in fact, be the only way to honor it.”
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*Names of those who shared their personal stories have been changed throughout this piece to preserve anonymity.
I Work With Grandparents Of Trans Kids. I’m Constantly Stunned By What I Hear Them Say.

As a gender therapist, I’m used to seeing parents reach out in crisis, teachers struggle to find the right language, and young people vacillate between moments of quiet confidence and deep fear and uncertainty in the current landscape. But there’s one group that continues to surprise me in the best possible way: grandparents of trans youth.
When people imagine advocates for kids, they don’t usually picture these individuals. But week after week, these elders show up — choosing to learn, to grow, and to fight for a future they may not live to see.
TransGenerations began in 2023 as a small, educational support group that my colleague Dani Rosenkrantz and I hoped would meet a quiet need. To our surprise, it filled almost immediately. Within weeks, we had to add a second cohort, then a third, then a fourth. When our original partnership with the Union for Reform Judaism ended due to funding, the grandparents themselves urged us to keep the group going. They weren’t done learning — or loving.
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While some of those original members are still with us, the group has grown into a vibrant interfaith, intergenerational community, united by one powerful desire: to show up for the young people they love. We welcome grandparents from all backgrounds and financial circumstances, thanks in part to a scholarship fund that helps make participation accessible to everyone.
In our group, grandparents speak openly about mortality — not with fear, but with clarity. They talk about the time they have left and what kind of world they want to help shape before they go. They know they can’t shield their grandkids from every injustice, but they show up anyway — determined to do everything in their power while they still can.
In a world where older generations are often written off as rigid or out of touch, these grandparents are rewriting the script. They are unlearning decades of assumptions, grappling with rapidly changing cultural norms, practicing pronouns, correcting one another gently, and even educating their adult children. They choose curiosity over certainty, growth over comfort.
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There’s the 81-year-old in Florida who calls the group her “chosen family,” and another in Illinois who ends every Zoom call with, “I love you all.” A grandfather is dreaming of a cross-country documentary tour to share the grandparents’ stories of affirming trans youth. One grandmother in Los Angeles told us her teenage grandchild texted her, “Mommy said you’re in a support group for grandparents of trans kids. That made my heart grow 10 sizes.”
And then there are the harder stories — the ones that show how transformation really happens.
There’s one grandmother who says in nearly every session that she’s not sure her grandchild is really trans. She has tested my patience more times than I can count — something we now laugh about — but her doubts haven’t disappeared. What has changed is her willingness to stay present and talk through her feelings.
At first, I thought she wouldn’t return after I gently challenged her. But she did — and not only that, she had read the articles I sent her. She brought notes. She came back with real questions. Most importantly, she continues to be respectful and affirming toward her grandchild in person. The group has become a space where she can wrestle with her fears honestly and be lovingly held accountable by other grandparents who once felt just like her.
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You can see her softening, session by session. It’s in how she works harder to use the correct name and pronouns, even when it doesn’t come naturally. It’s in how she reflects on her missteps without defensiveness. Recently, after pausing mid-sentence, she said with a wry smile, “I know I shouldn’t care about anyone’s parts — so now I know better than to ask!” The group chuckled — not at her, but with her. Another grandparent added, “That was hard for me too.”
She’s growing. And so are all of us.
One grandfather recently said, “Sometimes I think it’d be easier if my grandchild were just gay.” That comment opened the door to a powerful conversation. Many in the group lived through the AIDS epidemic — when being gay meant watching friends die, being disowned by family, and living with constant fear. “Thirty years ago,” he added, “I would’ve done anything to keep my grandson from that kind of pain. And now, I’m saying the opposite. That’s how much the world — and I — have changed.”
Others, especially among our original Jewish cohorts, carry the weight of family histories marked by persecution and forced assimilation. These grandparents know what it means to be othered — to be told that hiding who you are is the only path to safety. During one session, a grandparent reflected on how deeply that instinct to blend in had been passed down in their family. “We survived by making ourselves invisible,” they said. “But I don’t want that for my grandchild.”
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As the group explored these intergenerational echoes, a theme emerged: the desire to break the cycle. Just as these grandparents would never want their grandchildren to feel they must hide their faith or ethnicity to stay safe, they don’t want them to feel they must hide their gender identity either. That understanding didn’t come from a textbook — it came from their own stories, their own bodies, and a shared sense of what it means to carry inherited fear and choose love anyway.
There’s something profoundly moving about watching a Zoom screen full of people in their 70s, 80s and even 90s — people who could choose comfort or disconnection, but instead, show up week after week with notebooks in hand, eager to learn. One grandmother put it perfectly: “What better reason for becoming a lifelong learner at an advanced age than to love and support our grandchildren?”
They reflect on the gender roles they were raised with. They unlearn language they never questioned. They practice saying “my granddaughter” or “my nonbinary grandchild” aloud, letting the words settle on their tongues like a promise they’re learning to keep.
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Having lost my grandparents in recent years, facilitating this group has felt like gaining a room full of wise elders I didn’t know I still needed. They come to learn from me, but the truth is, we’re all learning from each other.
And their growth isn’t just meaningful — it’s potentially lifesaving.
More than 1 in 4 LGBTQ+ youths report experiencing homelessness or housing instability at some point in their lives — often as a direct result of family rejection. The stakes are painfully high. But the presence of just one affirming adult can change everything.
According to The Trevor Project, LGBTQ+ youth with at least one accepting adult are 40% less likely to attempt suicide. For trans youth, being called by their chosen name and correct pronouns leads to 71% fewer symptoms of severe depression and a 34% drop in suicidal thoughts.
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That’s the power these grandparents hold — not just to grow, but to protect. Their affirmation can be the difference between isolation and belonging, between despair and hope.
It’s not that they don’t have fears. They worry about their grandchild’s safety. They’re devastated by the current political climate. But they don’t let those fears close their hearts. They keep asking questions. They stay in the room. They volunteer. They sign petitions. They join boards and send money to grassroots organisations. They act.
In a world that often dismisses older adults as immovable or irrelevant, these grandparents are showing what radical love looks like. They’re not just bearing witness to their grandchildren’s identities — they’re actively shaping the legacy they leave behind.
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A legacy of compassion, not silence. Of courage, not fear. Of love, lived out loud.
They won’t be here forever — but what they’re choosing now will outlast them all.
Note: Some details have been changed to protect the identities of individuals in this essay.
If you’re a grandparent — or know someone who is — curious, questioning, or simply wanting to show up for a trans or gender-expansive grandchild, the next TransGenerations cohort begins in late June. No knowledge required — just a willingness to grow.
Rebecca Minor, LICSW, is a queer clinician, consultant and educator specialising in trauma, gender and sexuality. Rebecca is the founder of Prism Therapy Collective, offering therapy and coaching to parents and caregivers of transgender youth. She has authored articles on LGBTQ+ youth, contributed to textbooks, and is frequently quoted as an expert on gender-affirming care. Her internationally recognised consulting and coaching work supports organisations, schools and businesses in building cultural responsiveness and inclusivity. She is adjunct faculty at Boston University and the author of the forthcoming book “Raising Trans Kids: What To Expect When You Weren’t Expecting This” (Row House, 2025).
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Scientists create living building material that captures CO₂ from the air

The idea seems futuristic: At ETH Zurich, various disciplines are working together to combine conventional materials with bacteria, algae and fungi. The common goal: to create living materials that acquire useful properties thanks to the metabolism of microorganisms — “such as the ability to bind CO2 from the air by means of photosynthesis,” says Mark Tibbitt, Professor of Macromolecular Engineering at ETH Zurich.
An interdisciplinary research team led by Tibbitt has now turned this vision into reality: it has stably incorporated photosynthetic bacteria — known as cyanobacteria — into a printable gel and developed a material that is alive, grows and actively removes carbon from the air. The researchers recently presented their “photosynthetic living material” in a study in the journal Nature Communications.
Key characteristic: Dual carbon sequestration
The material can be shaped using 3D printing and only requires sunlight and artificial seawater with readily available nutrients in addition to CO2 to grow. “As a building material, it could help to store CO2 directly in buildings in the future,” says Tibbitt, who co-initiated the research into living materials at ETH Zurich.
The special thing about it: the living material absorbs much more CO2 than it binds through organic growth. “This is because the material can store carbon not only in biomass, but also in the form of minerals — a special property of these cyanobacteria,” reveals Tibbitt.
Yifan Cui, one of the two lead authors of the study, explains: “Cyanobacteria are among the oldest life forms in the world. They are highly efficient at photosynthesis and can utilize even the weakest light to produce biomass from CO2 and water.”
At the same time, the bacteria change their chemical environment outside the cell as a result of photosynthesis, so that solid carbonates (such as lime) precipitate. These minerals represent an additional carbon sink and — in contrast to biomass — store CO2 in a more stable form.
Cyanobacteria as master builders
“We utilize this ability specifically in our material,” says Cui, who is a doctoral student in Tibbitt’s research group. A practical side effect: the minerals are deposited inside the material and reinforce it mechanically. In this way, the cyanobacteria slowly harden the initially soft structures.
Laboratory tests showed that the material continuously binds CO2 over a period of 400 days, most of it in mineral form — around 26 milligrams of CO2 per gram of material. This is significantly more than many biological approaches and comparable to the chemical mineralization of recycled concrete (around 7 mg CO2 per gram).
Hydrogel as a habitat
The carrier material that harbours the living cells is a hydrogel — a gel made of cross-linked polymers with a high water content. Tibbitt’s team selected the polymer network so that it can transport light, CO2, water and nutrients and allows the cells to spread evenly inside without leaving the material.
To ensure that the cyanobacteria live as long as possible and remain efficient, the researchers have also optimised the geometry of the structures using 3D printing processes to increase the surface area, increase light penetration and promote the flow of nutrients.
Co-first author Dalia Dranseike: “In this way, we created structures that enable light penetration and passively distribute nutrient fluid throughout the body by capillary forces.” Thanks to this design, the encapsulated cyanobacteria lived productively for more than a year, the materials researcher in Tibbitt’s team is pleased to report.
Infrastructure as a carbon sink
The researchers see their living material as a low-energy and environmentally friendly approach that can bind CO2 from the atmosphere and supplement existing chemical processes for carbon sequestration. “In the future, we want to investigate how the material can be used as a coating for building façades to bind CO2 throughout the entire life cycle of a building,” Tibbitt looks ahead.
There is still a long way to go — but colleagues from the field of architecture have already taken up the concept and realised initial interpretations in an experimental way.
Two installations in Venice and Milan
Thanks to ETH doctoral student Andrea Shin Ling, basic research from the ETH laboratories has made it onto the big stage at the Architecture Biennale in Venice. “It was particularly challenging to scale up the production process from laboratory format to room dimensions,” says the architect and bio-designer, who is also involved in this study.
Ling is doing her doctorate at ETH Professor Benjamin Dillenburger’s Chair of Digital Building Technologies. In her dissertation, she developed a platform for biofabrication that can print living structures containing functional cyanobacteria on an architectural scale.
For the Picoplanktonics installation in the Canada Pavilion, the project team used the printed structures as living building blocks to construct two tree-trunk-like objects, the largest around three metres high. Thanks to the cyanobacteria, these can each bind up to 18 kg of CO2 per year — about as much as a 20-year-old pine tree in the temperate zone.
“The installation is an experiment — we have adapted the Canada Pavilion so that it provides enough light, humidity and warmth for the cyanobacteria to thrive and then we watch how they behave,” says Ling. This is a commitment: The team monitors and maintains the installation on site — daily. Until November 23.
At the 24th Triennale di Milano, Dafne’s Skin is investigating the potential of living materials for future building envelopes. On a structure covered with wooden shingles, microorganisms form a deep green patina that changes the wood over time: A sign of decay becomes an active design element that binds CO2 and emphasises the aesthetics of microbial processes. Dafne’s Skin is a collaboration between MAEID Studio and Dalia Dranseike. It is part of the exhibition “We the Bacteria: Notes Toward Biotic Architecture” and runs until November 9.
The photosynthetic living material was created thanks to an interdisciplinary collaboration within the framework of ALIVE (Advanced Engineering with Living Materials). The ETH Zurich initiative promotes collaboration between researchers from different disciplines in order to develop new living materials for a wide range of applications.
Iron overload: The hidden culprit behind early Alzheimer’s in Down syndrome

Scientists at the USC Leonard Davis School of Gerontology have discovered a key connection between high levels of iron in the brain and increased cell damage in people who have both Down syndrome and Alzheimer’s disease.
In the study, researchers found that the brains of people diagnosed with Down syndrome and Alzheimer’s disease (DSAD) had twice as much iron and more signs of oxidative damage in cell membranes compared to the brains of individuals with Alzheimer’s disease alone or those with neither diagnosis. The results point to a specific cellular death process that is mediated by iron, and the findings may help explain why Alzheimer’s symptoms often appear earlier and more severely in individuals with Down syndrome.
“This is a major clue that helps explain the unique and early changes we see in the brains of people with Down syndrome who develop Alzheimer’s,” said Max Thorwald, lead author of the study and a postdoctoral fellow in the laboratory of University Professor Emeritus Caleb Finch at the USC Leonard Davis School. “We’ve known for a long time that people with Down syndrome are more likely to develop Alzheimer’s disease, but now we’re beginning to understand how increased iron in the brain might be making things worse.”
Down syndrome and Alzheimer’s
Down syndrome is caused by having an extra third copy, or trisomy, of chromosome 21. This chromosome includes the gene for amyloid precursor protein, or APP, which is involved in the production of amyloid-beta (Aβ), the sticky protein that forms telltale plaques in the brains of people with Alzheimer’s disease.
Because people with Down syndrome have three copies of the APP gene instead of two, they tend to produce more of this protein. By the age of 60, about half of all people with Down syndrome show signs of Alzheimer’s disease, which is approximately 20 years earlier than in the general population.
“This makes understanding the biology of Down syndrome incredibly important for Alzheimer’s research,” said Finch, the study’s senior author.
Key findings point to ferroptosis
The research team studied donated brain tissue from individuals with Alzheimer’s, DSAD, and those without either diagnosis. They focused on the prefrontal cortex — an area of the brain involved in thinking, planning, and memory — and made several important discoveries:
- Iron levels much higher in DSAD brains: Compared to the other groups, DSAD brains had twice the amount of iron in the prefrontal cortex. Scientists believe this buildup comes from tiny brain blood vessel leaks called microbleeds, which occur more frequently in DSAD than in Alzheimer’s and are correlated with higher amounts of APP.
- More damage to lipid-rich cell membranes: Cell membranes are made of fatty compounds called lipids and can be easily damaged by chemical stress. In DSAD brains, the team found more byproducts of this type of damage, known as lipid peroxidation, compared to amounts in Alzheimer’s-only or control brains.
- Weakened antioxidant defense systems: The team found that the activity of several key enzymes that protect the brain from oxidative damage and repair cell membranes was lower in DSAD brains, especially in areas of the cell membrane called lipid rafts.
Together, these findings indicate increased ferroptosis, a type of cell death characterized by iron-dependent lipid peroxidation, Thorwald explained: “Essentially, iron builds up, drives the oxidation that damages cell membranes, and overwhelms the cell’s ability to protect itself.”
Lipid rafts: a hotspot for brain changes
The researchers paid close attention to lipid rafts — tiny parts of the brain cell membrane that play crucial roles in cell signaling and regulate how proteins like APP are processed. They found that in DSAD brains, lipid rafts had much more oxidative damage and fewer protective enzymes compared to Alzheimer’s or healthy brains.
Notably, these lipid rafts also showed increased activity of the enzyme β-secretase, which interacts with APP to produce Aβ proteins. The combination of more damage and more Aβ production may promote the growth of amyloid plaques, thus speeding up Alzheimer’s progression in people with Down syndrome, Finch explained.
Rare Down syndrome variants offer insight
The researchers also studied rare cases of individuals with “mosaic” or “partial” Down syndrome, in which the third copy of chromosome 21 is only present in a smaller subset of the body’s cells. These individuals had lower levels of APP and iron in their brains and tended to live longer. In contrast, people with full trisomy 21 and DSAD had shorter lifespans and higher levels of brain damage.
“These cases really support the idea that the amount of APP — and the iron that comes with it — matters a lot in how the disease progresses,” Finch said.
Looking ahead
The team says their findings could help guide future treatments, especially for people with Down syndrome who are at high risk of Alzheimer’s. Early research in mice suggests that iron-chelating treatments, in which medicine binds to the metal ions and allows them to leave the body, may reduce indicators of Alzheimer’s pathology, Thorwald noted.
“Medications that remove iron from the brain or help strengthen antioxidant systems might offer new hope,” Thorwald said. “We’re now seeing how important it is to treat not just the amyloid plaques themselves but also the factors that may be hastening the development of those plaques.”
The study was supported by the National Institute on Aging, National Institutes of Health (P30-AG066519, R01-AG051521, P50-AG05142, P01-AG055367, R01AG079806, P50-AG005142, P30-AG066530, P30-AG066509, U01-AG006781, T32AG052374, R01AG079806-02S1, and T32-AG000037); Cure Alzheimer’s Fund; Simons Collaboration on Plasticity in the Aging Brain (SF811217); Larry L. Hillblom Foundation (2022-A-010-SUP); Glenn Foundation for Medical Research; and the Navigage Foundation Award.
Plants’ secret second roots rewrite the climate playbook

Plants and trees extend their roots into the earth in order to draw nutrients and water from the soil — however, these roots are thought to decline as they move deeper underground. But a new study by a multi-institutional team of scientists shows that many plants develop a second, deeper layer of roots — often more than three feet underground — to access additional nourishment.
Published in the journal Nature Communications, the study reveals previously unrecognized rooting patterns, altering our understanding of how ecosystems
respond to changing environmental conditions. More importantly, the study suggests that plants might transport and store fixed carbon deeper than currently thought — welcome news at a time when CO2 levels are at an 800,000-year high, according to the World Meteorological Organization’s “State of the Global Climate Report” issued in March.
“Understanding where plants grow roots is vital, as deeper roots could mean safer and longer-term carbon storage. Harsher conditions at depth may prevent detritus-feeding microbes from releasing carbon back to the atmosphere,” says Mingzhen Lu, an assistant professor at New York University’s Department of Environmental Studies and the paper’s lead author. “Our current ecological observations and models typically stop at shallow depths; by not looking deep enough, we may have overlooked a natural carbon storage mechanism deep underground.”
The research team used data from the National Ecological Observatory Network (NEON) to examine rooting depth. The NEON database includes samples collected from soil 6.5 feet below the surface, far deeper than the one-foot depth of traditional ecological studies. This unprecedented depth allowed researchers to detect additional root patterns, spanning diverse climate zones and ecosystem types from the Alaskan tundra to Puerto Rico’s rainforests.
The scientists’ work focused on three questions — all with the aim of better understanding plants’ resource acquisition strategies and their resilience in response to environmental change:
- How does the abundance of roots change with depth?
- What are the factors that impact the distribution of roots with depth?
- Are nutrients in deeper soils equally, under-, or over-exploited by fine roots compared with surface soil?
The researchers found that nearly 20 percent of the studied ecosystems had roots that peaked twice across depth — a phenomenon called “bimodality.” In these cases, plants developed a second, deeper layer of roots, often more than three feet underground and aligning with nutrient-rich soil layers.This suggests that plants grew — in previously unknown ways — to exploit additional sustenance.
“The current understanding of roots is literally too shallow. Above ground, we have eagle vision — thanks to satellites and remote sensing. But below ground, we have mole vision,” observes Lu, former Omidyar Fellow who conducted part of this research at the Sante Fe Institute and as a postdoctoral affiliate at Stanford University. “Our limited below ground vision means that we cannot estimate the full ability of plants to store carbon deep in the soil.”
“Deep plant roots may cause increased soil carbon storage in one condition or lead to losses in other conditions due to a stimulation of soil microbes,” suggests coauthor Avni Malhotra, the lead author of a companion study that investigated the connection between root distribution and soil carbon stock. “This discovery opens a new avenue of inquiry into how bimodal rooting patterns impact the dynamics of nutrient flow, water cycling, and the long-term capacity of soils to store carbon.”
“Scientists and policymakers need to look deeper beneath the Earth’s surface as these overlooked deep soil layers may hold critical keys for understanding and managing ecosystems in a rapidly changing climate,” concludes Lu. “The good news is plants may already be naturally mitigating climate change more actively than we’ve realized — we just need to dig deeper to fully understand their potential.”
The study also included researchers from Boston College, Columbia University, Dartmouth College, the Morton Arboretum, the National Ecological Observatory Network-Battelle, Pacific Northwest National Laboratory, and Stanford University.



