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This lovely fountain is about six feet tall and about the same width, and stands in the center of a French town just north of Marseilles. What I love about it is this: It has spewed its thermal water through 16 centuries or so, and during this time ox-carts gave way to the horses of the chevaliers and then to the carriages of the burgers who moved into the east side of the street, and finally it became an obstacle to the machines that have increased the pace of life in this city to the point that few noticed this most ancient place-holder in this medieval French city.
Empires have risen and fallen while it patiently flowed. People lived. Babies were born. Young couples married. They loved and died, and their children carried on. All around this fountain life has swirled for over a thousand years. What will it tell in another thousand years?