Outside a café, regular customers drink their coffee reading the newspaper. We can hear the sound of the paper crunching the reading, in their hands, when they turn the pages, when their concentration is put to the test by a draft, when they readjust their seat after having coughed up the poison dropped by the passing of a car right under their noses. It is the taste of espresso, of routine, of news; it is a flavor of urban landscape. With the help of the digital, the sweetness of this crispy has disappeared. Like Yas, my friend Yas.