After a night spent in a yurt in the heart of the Karakum desert, we set off on an early morning journey of around three hours by jeep. Our destination: Kounia-Ourguentch, an ancient city on the Silk Road. Ravaged by the Mongol invasion of 1220, it has preserved some moving monuments, including sanctuaries that bear witness to its glorious past. It is here that Sheikh Najm ud-Dîn Kubra, a revered spiritual figure, lies buried.

In one of the best-preserved buildings, the mausoleum of Turabek Khanum, I begin to explore the grounds, still hesitant, when an ageless woman approaches me. She has just returned from the pilgrimage to Mecca and lives nearly 1,000 km from here, a four-hour flight or eleven-hour drive. Our meeting under this dome is no accident," she tells me. I've come to bring you the baraka of Mecca. Her voice is soft and full of deep conviction. She embraced me warmly and gave me a long hug. Moved, she lets tears fall. I'm crying too. At that moment, we were no longer two strangers, but ONE. It's a magical, unique moment that transcends words.

Then a young mother with a little girl in her arms approaches the woman. They exchange a few whispers. A piece of cloth is spread out on the floor, and the little girl is placed gently on it. The healer lifts her garment and begins a quick but precise massage, pressing on certain points of her body, insisting particularly on her navel. A smile, a handshake, and the scene is over as quickly as it began.

Everything happened in the moment. I don't know her name, I don't know anything about her, but that meeting left a deep impression on me. Every day, she comes back into my thoughts. It was intense, brief, and yet of incredible depth. A connection that seems to have transcended languages and cultures. I don't speak Turkmen, she doesn't speak French, and yet we shared a moment of unity. She emanated a vibrancy of maternal love, solidity, strength and tenderness.

I've often wondered whether such an encounter would be possible in Europe. An exchange with strangers whose language and codes you don't share, but where something unspeakable happens, creating a deep sense of belonging to the same family. Perhaps in the East, opening one's heart is more natural. I can't say for sure, but that's the impression I was left with.

Even weeks later, this experience continues to nourish me and move me. Words fail me to express all its richness, so I'll just say: THANK YOU, Life.