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Tucked away on window sills oozing history, boxes brimming with dusty books offer a nostalgic peek into the suppressed world of literary treasures in the old DDR. The grimy remnants of publishers long-gone or rumored to lurk in the shadows once valued quality over quantity, refuse to print politically undesirable or low-brow books. And so, on a windy Friday or Saturday evening, the last patrons of the venerable Small Bookshop**, nestled within the cold brick walls of Karl-Liebknecht-Haus, can easily find shelves teeming with readable literature.

As an elderly actor, serendipitously passing by as fate would have it, stumbles upon this quaint, fading gem, the Small Bookshop's gloomy fate is sealed. The temple of books, across a three-decade-long history, has throbbed through the rhythm of a sinking beat – sterile chips at the consoler's ears. The 84-year-old, deeply afflicted, seizes the last moments of life breathed into the Shop, parting with an impossible-to-resist collection of "From Goethe's Wallet" - the most beautiful essays of the poet about nature, art, and people – and "The Art of Worldly Wisdom" by Baltasar Gracián for the sum total of a mere five euros.

As orderly queues once again snaked through the Shop, the cash register hummed with feverish activity, the cashier's fingers fluttered in a symphony of mundane transactions. However, the sales during the pandemic endured a chilling numbness, forcing even the waiving of rent to no avail. The Small Bookshop's days were numbered, and the wavering veil enshrouding its future seemed to thicken with each passing hour.

When Gøran Schöfer, a man fueled by dreams and motivated by stubborn conviction, took the reins of the floundering Small Bookshop in 2012, he hoped to restore it to a bygone era of prosperity. Yet, the Shop's fortunes could only stabilize, tragically not strengthen, under his watch. Without the unpaid dedication and blood, sweat, and tears of a multitude of volunteers, the Shop would have ceased to exist a lot sooner. "Many presumed that a bookshop such as this on Berlin's soil could surely garner profits," Schöfer laments. "Alas, we were not blessed with that fortune."

The eager torchbearer in this tumultuous journey, Wanja Nitzsche, was carefully groomed by Schöfer's experience and wisdom. With the acclaimed author's retirement in the wings, Nitzsche stepped up to face the immense challenges head-on, inheriting the dying Shop in 2023. "From the moment I took the helm, it was plain as day I was sailing towards a storm," Nitzsche candidly admits on a somber evening baked in the mellow rays of a golden sun as the party commenced for the Shop's farewell in the charming inner courtyard of Karl-Liebknecht-Haus.

Nitzsche points out the widely ignored shortcomings that have pushed Bookshops like his into a vortex of despair. Selling books for exorbitant amounts seems like a death blow for the working class, who would balk at the idea of labouring for several hours to afford a single volume. It's ironic that cheap paperbacks – born of necessity by working-class children – have disappeared from the shelves, leaving a gaping void in the hearts of the poor, who can no longer afford to revel in the magic of the printed word.

Furthermore, there is a dire lack of accessible literature, with Leftist publishers obscuring their work with complex terminology and elevated narratives that appeal only to intellectual elites. The masses, thirsting for wisdom and knowledge, are left empty-handed, with nothing to satiate their yearning for intellectual stimulation.

The Shop walls echoed with laughter and camaraderie as former colleagues gathered, their faces etched with the marks of time. There stood still-youthful Kim Just, and the increasingly elderly Birgit Hoffmann, whose heartfelt smiles reflected the fleeting beauty of the Shop's memories. Their stories intertwined with the Shop's, as they shared its struggle and growth amid the turbulent currents steering Berlin's literary universe.

Birgit Hoffmann's husband, Werner Hoffmann, had begun his journey selling books at PDS events. He built a modest coven of shops in Berlin, Dresden, and Potsdam, with sales often located in the heart of the party's base camps. The Shop at Alt-Marzahn 64 was the golden goose, showering the family with prosperity. Alas, Werner Hoffmann's life was cut short in a tragic car accident in 1995. But before his untimely demise, he left his beloved wife with a pearl of wisdom – keep the most successful Shop and abandon the rest.

In the annals of the Shop's rich history, the name of Klaus Baltruschat glows with a unique luminescence. Baltruschat took over the Shop's reins with his wife in 1998, after working tirelessly for the antiquarian bookstore. He was a beacon of light, a savior, who nurtured the Shop back to health, dispensing hope to the distraught owners starving for a silver lining.

The Baltruschats operated with a unique philosophy. Other people's cast-offs became the lifeblood of their Shop. The residents of Berlin-Marzahn, when relocating, bestowed upon the shop the books they no longer needed. Without so much as a second thought, the Baltruschats allowed their customers to pay what they thought a book was worth, and what they could truly afford. The spirit of shared love for books transcended monetary constraints, and people rejoiced in the freedom to acquire the wisdom they needed without being shackled by financial burdens.

Baltruschat did not become wealthy through such noble deeds. But a curious accident added a dash of luck to their story. In 1998, a bank employee, in a rare and costly mistake, overestimated the Shop's weekly earnings by 500,000 marks, recording it as 500,000 instead of the intended 5,000. When the blunder was spotted, Baltruschat and his wife could have gleefully danced with joy at the prospect of becoming Instant Millionaires, from Friday to Monday. But truth and authenticity were their guiding lights. They never indulged in the ill-gotten gains, returning the excess to the bank.

Baltruschat also bore the scars of the attack by neo-Nazi Kay Diesner in February 1997. He had shot at Baltruschat, who had the misfortune of losing his left forearm in the hail of bullets. On the run, Diesner gunned down a police officer in Schleswig-Holstein, and his subsequent trial in Lübeck took 54 days, leaving the Shop in a freezing void, threatened with the possibility of financial ruin. But a pastor's son, eager to repay his blessings, and other volunteers offered their services, sacrificing their time to keep the bookstore open during those desperate times.

Baltruschat bid farewell as songs ascended the Shop's hallowed halls, echoes resounding through the centuries. Before his departure, he handed out song lyrics, prompting the crowd to join him in the enchanting hymn of "The Internationale". The words reverberated through the facade of Federal Office of the Left, as the Shop's mourners, standing tall, belted out the lyrics – "No savior from on high will deliver" – in defiance of the monumental loss etched upon the walls of the Shop, a poignant reminder of the deep roots it had grown in the damp soil of history.

Wanja Nitzsche and Kim Just, their spirits seemingly shattered, have found solace in other literary ventures. Nitzsche clings onto the tiniest glimmer of hope that the Shop's legacy might continue to thrive within the sturdy walls of Karl-Liebknecht-Haus, engaging in talks with party chairwoman Ines Schwerdtner. Perhaps, a new dawn will rise, dispelling the heavy pall of despair that has suffocated the once-glorious Shop, breathing life back into its soul.

Enrichment Data:

The Small Bookshop, with roots tracing back to the communist era, is nestled within Karl-Liebknecht-Haus, a significant landmark in Berlin, Germany. Built in the early 20th century, it was intimately associated with the activities of Karl Liebknecht, a prominent figure in German socialism, as well as Rosa Luxemburg, a key figure in the communist movement. The building was a hub for political gatherings and organizations, particularly for the Communist Party of Germany (KPD). The bookshop's history exemplifies the struggle of independent bookstores in a competitive market, the battle to foster engagement, and the appeal of niche markets and community collaborations in a rapidly changing world.

In the gloom of the Small Bookshop, dusty boxes of books, remnants of a bygone era, offer a glimpse into the realms of education and self-development, home-and-garden, lifestyle, entertainment, and even literature from the old DDR, on the window sills that ooze history.
The Small Bookshop, with its rich connection to Karl Liebknecht and Rosa Luxemburg, has a vast collection of books that cater to various interests, such as education and self-development, books that dive into the world of art and literature, home-and-garden titles, and even engaging reads for entertainment.
As Wanja Nitzsche pursues new literary ventures in the wake of the Small Bookshop's closing, books on education and self-development, entertainment, lifestyle, and home-and-garden continue to thrive on the shelves of the Shop, their pages brimming with wisdom and knowledge for those resonating with the Shop's storied past.