Io sono Ambra e questo e’ un muro
Today I’ve started three posts about lunch and air conditioning and the concierge’s plates. But I haven’t finished one of them.
Today was an uncertain day. It started with a text message about an incident in a nearby neighbourhood, which turned out to be a false alarm, but it was a little too close for comfort- on the same page as us in the Zawarib map.
And in the south and the north the alarms aren’t false.
And all I can think about is the green hill in Sardinia, where you can smell the trees and see the sea and hear the land take deep steady breaths. Where the house is, and where the little girl next door, 2 years old with dark chocolate eyes, stood by me in the front garden under the jasmine and said
Io sono Ambra e questo é un muro
I’m Amber and this is a wall.
She knew who she was and what was in front of her. And that was all that mattered.
Oh Lebanon. I wish you peace. I wish you calm. I wish you Amber’s certainty that everything will be alright.