Horst Evers' texts take place in Leopoldsplatz, in his ground-floor apartment, in corner pubs, or on the night bus, and they tell stories of kind-hearted residents of Wedding, beetles, well-organized alcoholics, or neighbors who still care about their fellow humans, often more than those fellow humans would like. His absurd, subtle humor, the surprising twists and developments in his stories, as well as the often idiosyncratic style of his texts come together to form a small love letter to Berlin's traditional working-class district.