Every time Andreas left school in the afternoon from the Gymnasium, he liked to stop by his father's café. Especially on winter evenings.

Because then the large round stove inside would be burning, and the warmth was sweet. A charming naval café, with large windows and a low, dark ceiling.

From there, neatly arranged red jugs and braids of garlic hung. Always peaceful, clean, and quiet. 'The good heart.'