Like a Brueghel painting. Time turns on itself. Events are repeated
and altered. Characters both dead and imaginary appear. At the core of
the story is an exhibition of paintings. The paintings tell the story of
the moments before, after, and surrounding the events in Dealey Plaza,
on November 11, 1963. The assassination of John Kennedy. And amongst the
crowd that packs the exhibition at the Zig |Zag bar is a serial
murderer.
“I think you should have included those other pieces.” Sharmaine sipped her coffee.
“The assassination shots?”
Sharmaine nodded.
Willy shook his head.
“Jack
said that they were too gruesome for his bar. He didn’t want his
customers retching. The image of Kennedy’s brain’s splattered across
Mrs. Kennedy’s face doesn’t run up the food bill. And the other one of
Mrs. Kennedy trying to escape by crawling out over the trunk of the
limousine. People still have to drive home. The third one, the autopsy
of Kennedy was my favourite. I love the image of those doctors looking
like Supreme Court judges dipping their fingers into the President’s
head like it was a box of donuts.
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THE EXHIBITION
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