You have walked down the street a thou­sand times. You walk the road – a thread­bare com­mon­place, and yet true. And how many kinds of road there are! Stony and smooth, fall­ing and rising, paved and dusty, straight and wind­ing, snowy and wet, a climb cut into the moun­tain­side or an arrow-straight track across the plain, a pil­grims' way or a quiet street, a foot­path or a thor­ough­fare, a nar­row alley or a bright prom­en­ade… Not to men­tion that at times it fades into noth­ing, or is an out­right dead end.

Of all the many kinds of pav­ing, per­haps the dearest to me is the small cobble­stone. Dili­gent hands set a mil­lion stone cubes side by side – what patience, per­sever­ance and foresight! To think that cubes a few fin­gers wide will one day become a road, one that sets out from some­where and leads some­where, not just any­where, but some­where. The cobbled road is a tri­umph of man's faith, and yet everything begins in the quarry, from where no one can yet see which way the road will lead.

But once the road is trod­den out, soon­er or later it will have fol­low­ers too, who use it, walk it, and reach their goal along it. Was it per­haps human­ity's first step that marked out the road itself, the path for all ages that must be walked? Did everything begin with the first step? And would the first step have marked out every road on the face of the earth, be it a forest trail or a main road? And can all of us only step into someone's foot­prints, is there no untrod­den road for which we might leave the trod­den ones? Are we all, of neces­sity, way­farers and track­ers? Step after step, right, left, right again, and on we go… Some­times you crawl and clam­ber pain­fully on all fours, at other times the road lies smooth beneath your soles and everything goes of its own accord, and now and then you even walk a span above it, though that is no cred­it to the road…

Have you ever wondered what holds the stones togeth­er? What is the magic power that arranges the small stones, which for all their corners would roll off every which way, and keeps them in place? You might think it is the kerb. It is the kerb that makes the road, and where there is no kerb, there is no road either. You your­self sense that the argu­ment is weak and flawed. Just as the riverb­ank does not cre­ate the river, only its bed, for the river is water, noth­ing but water, so the kerb­stone does not make the road either, for the road simply is, it is purely road.

The small stones are held togeth­er by still smal­ler com­pon­ents: grit, sand and even the invis­ible ones, sweat and will. A pav­ing stone by itself rolls away, sand by itself trickles apart. Togeth­er the two hold firm. The bed­ding is what mat­ters. You fill the gaps between the large stones with smal­ler ones, you bed both the small and the large in sand, and when you have fin­ished, you strew sand over it all and with patient strokes work the fine-grained sand into the gaps between the stones. Water car­ries into place the grains of sand the broom could not man­age. Large, smal­ler, smal­ler still…

On such a road the wheel rolls nois­ily, but it grips well. He who goes afoot travels grate­fully, though his soles feel the uneven­ness. This road is not smooth, but that is pre­cisely what makes it sig­ni­fic­ant. From the edges of a sel­dom-used cobbled road the veget­a­tion sets out to con­quer: tendrils and branches bend over the road, grass settles in the cracks between the stones, and where stones have been heaved out, weeds and rank growth take their place in the broken order, the great sur­viv­ors of the harshest con­di­tions.

Lift two such heaved-out cobble­stones from the edge of the road and put them in a glass jar. The jar is full, filled by the two cobble­stones. Add smal­ler stones beside them – now it is really full, you have filled the gaps! Take dry sand and sprinkle it gently into the jar – sev­er­al hand­fuls have gone in, and if you shake the jar, the grains of sand fill the gaps between the stones and pebbles com­pletely – this time the jar is truly full! But take water, and you can still pour that in. The sand soaks up the water, bed­ding the smal­ler pebbles in its damp­ness, and togeth­er they embrace the two stones… Small, a little lar­ger, large…