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The sound of the Angelus is answered by the chant of the Adhan, and at this signal, the sky over Toledo is ablaze with the last light of the day. The waters of the Tagus still quiver at this precise hour, like a lover’s skin against the tenderness of her beloved. On the shore, a blue-gloved hand dips a Corne-de-gazelle in a wild cherry liqueur. And to contemplate its grace, time stops for a moment.