BACL-anglaisLV1-sujet-2016

Document A
Now, here it was, the last Saturday in March, and Eddie settled down with his
rod. He’d left his studio in the dark, and it was hardly daybreak when he began to
fish. On both sides of the Hudson the sky was struck with a hazy pink glow. He’d
brought along night crawlers1 and crusts of bread in an old tin pail. Eddie avoided the
5 Harlem River—it was overcrowded and overfished, even more so than the Hudson,
littered with oystering boats.