Touch me not, Flore! is obviously not the beginning of a new creative stage for Márton, but rather a delightful story written by a writer liberated from some oppressing weight. The style of this book shows another facet of Márton's prose: here, his usual ”narrative arbitrariness” follows the pattern of pulp novels and operetta librettos.
"What makes one a writer? Probably it is not being locked up, because then we would be chock full of writers, but undoubtedly, for someone who does not want to be a writer but ends up becoming one, like me, such an event can prove crucial."
A master, a student and a woman are trying to extricate themselves from the dead end situations of their life in typical present-day Budapest scenes. Can we step out of the shadow of the past, or will we carry it within ourselves forever?