Elizabeth Gilbert muses about the source of genius and determines it's from outside the self. She plays around with words like "mystical fairy juice" but it sure sounds like a Creator involving himself with His creation.
A quivering mass of neurons stored on a dusty shelf in a jar of cerebrospinal fluid. A single dying 9 volt battery with corroding contacts powers the filmy container. A lone led winks on and off, casting dim shadows against the storeroom walls.
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