Creativity

I was thinking the other day, that creativity resembles water.

There is groundwater: it is shallow, you can find it easily, you just have to dig a little bit.

Below, far below, is the water from the artesian reservoirs, which you reach with artesian wells: it is the water that gushes out, without pumps, which when you reach it pushes up and up the conduit, to the surface. You put the glass underneath, and you drink.

There was one near home, of artesian well, when I was a child. From a humble pipe, rising from the ground, water always gushed out.

There is one, in Paris, of artesian well, that has stayed in my mind: it's in Butte-aux-Cailles, a suburban neighborhood, where you feel that Paris is very very close. It stands in a small square, next to a swimming pool: the water in the pools comes from the same well. Apart from the beauty of the place, and the architectural beauty of the buildings of the pool, there are the numbers, of the well, which I line up with a certain impression: the water, after long digging and stopping and resuming digging began to gush in 1904, rising from 582 meters deep, where it has been stored for tens of thousands of years, between layers of black clay, at a pressure of up to 60 bars. Chills. Curtain.

In fact, no.

Create.