Réservé aux abonnés DÉCRYPTAGE - Le responsable d’une boutique à Strasbourg a été violemment accusé d’«islamophobie» après avoir refusé à une intérimaire de travailler au motif qu’elle portait un voile. Les menaces sont d’une extrême violence. Le gér... [958 chars]

Con la llegada de las temperaturas cálidas, las sandalias sin duda se convierten en nuestras mejores aliadas para lucir con todo tipo de estilismos, y si son...

Si hay un calzado imprescindible en nuestro armario, ese es el botín negro. Versátiles como ningún otro, son sin duda la pieza necesaria para llevar durante...

Es oficial, hemos encontrado el calzado perfecto para esta primavera. Nuestros pies piden a gritos ser lucidos y no hay mejor forma de hacerlo que con unas...

—cocktail that looks refreshing, smells divine, and tastes like déjà vu trying to warn you. The salt was right. The lime was clean.The grapefruit fresh, the bubbles keen.It hit the tongue with perfect grace,And yet…you didn’t trust its face. Tequila shone, all silver bright,A mirror tilted toward the night.The juice was real. The glass was cold.But something here did not unfold. You sipped again. Your pulse withdrew.The fizz began to look at you.It knew your thoughts. It knew the partOf bitter citrus in your heart.

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Date: Not recordedLocation: Unknown – possibly never locatedChronicle Status: Missing, but confirmedInk Presence: Absent | Emotional Resonance: Moderate to strong upon proximity There is an entry that doesn’t exist. Not forgotten.Not erased.Just never written. And yet… everyone who’s read the Chronicle knows it’s missing. They flip from Entry 99 to Entry 101 and feel a soft skip in their breath. Like a word that was about to be spoken but got caught in the mouth. Like a step they didn’t take, but still landed. There is no page.