October 28, 2026
Bayram, the carpet dealer, has offered me an old portal in the heart of Bukhara’s old town as a place for my project.
And here I am, standing slightly above the street, laying out my materials and making sure the ancient stone beneath them is well protected. People pass by. I feel nervous, hesitant. I am a shy person. How am I going to approach people? How do I start a conversation?
I have carried this idea with me for so many years. For so long, I have dreamed of bringing COMMON GROUND to different places around the world. And now I am actually here, in the middle of Bukhara, where people from so many different countries cross paths. It seems the perfect place to begin.
A young man watches me. He walks past, then turns around for another look. I wave to him. He comes back.
He speaks a little English, and I tell him about my project. He listens carefully and finally asks whether it is something political.
No, I say firmly. It is about us as human beings. About the fact that we are one humanity and that we share this Earth.
He nods and goes to fetch his wife and mother. They are from Kazakhstan. His mother tells me that she studied German at university back in Soviet times. Both women are rather shy at first. His wife takes her time, carefully answering my questions in writing.
Then the young man takes off his shoes and puts on the socks I have brought for the project.
He is the very first participant in COMMON GROUND!
What a moment! We are all laughing and delighted. He walks a cheerful circle across the paper, leaving his footprints behind.
When he finishes, everyone applauds. By now, more people have gathered around us. They watch with curiosity and want to know what is happening. I explain my idea, and immediately others want to join in.
Small conversations begin. Questions arise, sometimes even philosophical reflections.
One man looks at the footprints on the paper and says, “Look, everyone follows the first footprints. Nobody dares to walk a different way, let alone dance. That’s how people are.”
I look down at the paper. He is right. Many are following the tracks of those who went before them.
Three hours pass in what feels like no time at all. The paper gradually fills with footprints. People come and go, stop to watch, talk to one another. Again and again, they thank me, wish me luck and tell me how important they find this project. They are happy to be part of it. Some are genuinely proud.
And I, who only a few hours earlier had no idea how to approach anyone, am now right in the middle of it all.
All these encounters, the conversations, the laughter. People who have never met before, who speak different languages, sharing something for a moment.
I am deeply moved.
For so long, COMMON GROUND was an idea, a wish, an image I carried within me. Today, it has become reality.
And as I think about all the people whose paths crossed mine today, I find myself wondering:
Were these encounters really just chance?
Does coincidence even exist?
