Der niegeküßte Mund: Drei Erzählungen

In a quiet Franconian town the yellow, pentagonal tower looms over a narrow street lined with orderly houses, a bustling market square, and a modest school where sixty‑five children gather each day. The rhythm of life is measured by the steady clang of the town clock and the occasional whistle of passing trains, which carry with them faint scents of a world beyond the valley. The town’s modest buildings—an inn, a doctor’s office, a synagogue of red brick—frame a landscape that feels both timeless and gently restless.

At the heart of this community stands Philipp Unruh, a schoolmaster whose calm demeanor masks a restless curiosity. By day he guides the pupils through the basics of reading and arithmetic; by night his modest room fills with towering volumes of chronicles, memoirs, and histories from every age. Through these pages he sails across centuries, imagining battles, revolutions, and distant courts, while the present remains a quiet backdrop to his inner voyages.