Until Egon Ammann called me and said: "I like your book, I'll do it, you've found your publisher." It was more than that, it was a home. Of course, "Snow over Havana" was not a success, but Egon Ammann gave me the greatest happiness an author can have: someone believes in him, praises him, comforts him, cares. Demands more, we quickly switched to using the informal "du" form, his motivation is unforgettable: "You know, the first book is usually not a success, you just have to keep writing, it will come."
Egon Ammann lived books, breathed books, loved books. For him, art was never a matter of bread and he was well deservedly lucky that he had patrons who enabled him to live his belarus rcs data love. In 2010, the Ammann publishing house closed down and there could be no successor, because there is no other Egon Ammann; he lived in Berlin for the last few years that he had left. He had always been out of touch with the world, an artifact from another time. E-books, Amazon, unfiltered "content" that anyone can put on the Internet - that was not his thing.
As so often in life, there were far too few encounters, far too often " ". Unforgivable, and you only notice it when someone who should really be immortal is no longer with us. His eternal companion and wife Marie-Louise Flammersfeld must now come to terms with this loss. She knows, as do all of us who had the great privilege of knowing him: oh, you are missed. "What remains, however, is created by the poets," wrote Friedrich Hölderin. He forgot to mention that this also requires publishers such as Egon Ammann. What remains, however, are all the works that became books thanks to him. And as long as there are still people who read books, he will remain in this world, and that is the only consolation after his death.