Wo many people live in one place, that place is good to see. There are tall buildings, interchanges, TV towers and lights in the night. Large dots mark cities on the map. They say: what lies here is important. And that’s how many townspeople talk. But many people live in many small places. As a result, they can only be seen on closer inspection. It is particularly worth looking at in the west. The cities are close together there, Dortmund, Essen, Cologne, Düsseldorf, and they grow into the surrounding area. Lots of big dots on the map. Anyone who still keeps their distance wants it that way. He is not left behind, not forgotten, but deliberately in the village. Such a village is in the far west, even more west than Aachen, in the municipality of Selfkant. It has fewer than four hundred inhabitants: the westernmost village in Germany.
The village of Isenbruch stretches out under a flat sky as if under a blanket. All around are flat fields, emerald green corn, golden yellow stubble of wheat that has already been mown. White and brown cows look after cyclists. Cyclists look after cyclists. The joys of life only quietly advertise themselves. In the well-groomed gardens the apples are already turning red, and on the walls of some houses dots of the sun cast by the water of the swimming pools dance. But soon it will be loud for a few days. Then there is the summer fair. Cast-iron stands await on flagpoles in the front gardens, and the marquee at the entrance to the village has been resplendent for a few hours. In front of them two men who are more important here than Chancellor and Federal President: Schützenkönig Thorsten and Schützenbrüder Jens. Jens cycled over to have a look at the junction box, and Thorsten, who happened to be driving by in the car with Birgit, the queen of marksmen, stopped to look at the tent, but also at Jens.