The dandelion withers

The beauty must die, the people and gods atque. (Friedrich Schiller, Bunge) Already pile up the sales pile, the throbbing begrabbelt, piece by piece away. The opinion-after Harry Rowohlt "best bookstore in the world," the Taraxacum in Leer, takes his farewell, closed the doors at year-end.

Amid the old town nestles at the old building between the picturesque gables. Majestic wooden pillars share and support the sales room, solid, ancient wooden shelves on the walls provide the host read-worthy works maintenance. Sometimes up almost to the edge of caricature, yet immensely lovable embodies the Taraxacum refuge for the small südostfriesischen Bohčme.

Here one could not only buy the special book. Carafes elegance and dignity aged in barrels with a variety of fine wines there too. And in a cozy cafe could existenzialistisch assist students and adults with beret and black wool felt like Sartre in "Les deux magots" or to selbstgedrehter cigarette and delude dunkelpigmentiertem red wine, the group of 47 swimmers. The Arts and Literature interested in the region, and also the small and medium-sized artists and writers had their little nest here.

Here they were among their own kind, here they were human, she's had here, and is also celebrated a little. Be it in the lunch break, be it at a dinner yarn.

Gern also in the cultural evenings with readings outstanding writer who, thanks to the rotational lively of the two brothers buschbärtigen booksellers and the cozy ambience always pleased to return to the East Frisian province lost. Arno Schmidt, Harry Rowohlt, Urs Widmer, Elfriede Jelinek, Friederike Mayröcker and many more.

In homey atmosphere in the bookstore wuselten also like jazz musicians on buttons and fingerboards, plinkerten rotlockige Harfenistinnen from Scotland in green silk wrapped railways, grölten stoutfahnige full-bart blut-Iren Celtic ways.

But the target group is too small, much remained idealistic subsidy business, the arts, the profit pressure is not resisted. At the end of the year closes the Taraxacum the gates. Enormous pity. Do it well, it was nice to Dir