2007
The First Contemporary Art Biennale of Thessaloniki, Archeological museum of Thessaloniki, Greece
The text on the wall reads:
“Try bromide of potassium,” said John. “It’s very soothing in twenty-grain doses.”
Arthur Conan Doyle (English writer)
Dear Master […] What to tell you about myself? I am not stiff, I have … I don’t know what. Bromide of potassium has calmed me and given me eczema on the middle of my forehead […] Abnormal things are going on inside me. My psychic depression must relate to some hidden cause. I feel old, used up, disgusted with everything, and others bore me as I do myself.
Gustave Flaubert (French writer)
“Yes. Can’t say exactly. Everything points to one of the cyanides. No distinctive smell of Prussic Acid, probably Potassium Cyanide. It acts pretty well instantaneously.” The judge said sharply: “It was in his glass?” “Yes.”
Agatha Christie (English writer)
Since it is still winter, look here, let me go quietly on with my work; if it is that of a madman, well, so much the worse. I can’t help it. However, the unbearable hallucinations have ceased, and are now getting reduced to a simple nightmare, in consequence of my taking bromide of potassium, I think.
Vincent van Gogh (Dutch painter)
May 18. I have just come from consulting my medical man, for I could no longer get any sleep. He found that my pulse was high, my eyes dilated, my nerves highly strung, but no alarming symptoms. I must have a course of shower baths and of bromide of potassium.
May 25th. No change! My state is really very peculiar. As the evening comes on, an incomprehensible feeling of disquietude seizes me, just as if night concealed some terrible menace toward me. I dine quickly, and then try to read, but I do not understand the words, and can scarcely distinguish the letters. Then I walk up and down my drawing-room, oppressed by a feeling of confused and irresistible fear, the fear of sleep and fear of my bed.
Guy de Maupassant (French writer)
He [Dr. Juvenal Urbino] arose at the crack of dawn, when he began to take his secret medicines: potassium bromide to raise his spirits, salicylates for the ache in his bones when it rained, ergosterol drops for vertigo, belladonna for sound sleep. He took something every hour, always in secret, because in his long life as a doctor and teacher he had always opposed prescribing palliatives for old age: it was easier for him to bear other people’s pains than his own. In his pocket he always carried a little pad of camphor that he inhaled deeply when no one was watching to calm his fear of so many medicines mixed together.
Gabriel Garcia Marquez (Colombian writer)
[Till the day came,] The day that [Ali-Akbar] Sa’idi [Sirjani] fancied tahini. For an hour or two I searched all over southern Tehran to satisfy the maestro’s will. Tahini caused him a severe constipation. One night we took him to another safe house. Sa’idi was suffering from flatulence, whimpering. A Brother gave me a suppository.”Deus ex machina” said he. Sa’idi went to the lavatory to take it. When he came back his face was blackened and sweaty. A few moments later we heard a sudden cry. Sa’idi was jumping up and down. Some were applauding and laughing, some singing a song, accompanying Sa’idi’s jig. Potassium suppository did it. Brother Hashemi took a photo of us with his lifeless body.
Sa’id Emami[?] (Iranian intelligence agent)
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نخستین دوسالانهی هنر تسالونیکی، موزهی باستانشناسی تسالونیکی، یونان