«My own father was eating lunch in a restaurant in Montreal when he dropped his fork and slipped sideways to the floor. He was bundled into a taxi and would not tell the driver where he lived or be taken to a hospital till twenty-five dollars and most of his life was gone.»
Joyce Marshall, «Avis de Vente», Matrix, automne 1984, reproduit dans Michael Benazon (édit.), Montreal mon amour. Short Stories from Montreal, Toronto, Deneau, 1989, xix/290 p., p. 228-236, p. 236.
(Une définition du zeugme ? Par là.)
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