N: the range or limit that is covered by something (such as a law).
Say the ambit of Italy is the sea, you rather find your way back or your way finds you back.
Back, back, back. The turbulence is behind you, the chaos is ahead of you, say we are in the midst
of multilingual doom.
The night, the sea and the noise of mothers calling their kids back into life, or another innate who
suddenly becomes the snapping arms of the ocean.
Ambit is where you are until the Naval says it is a good time to go back home, until your country
calls for you, until the Earth says it is now.
Ambit is the limit you could go until your body says it is over and your legs disown the road.
It is the apogee where plane becomes ashes and horses become dust, men become a spring of
worms.
It’s someone’s Agadez, someone’s Accra, someone’s Tripoli, or Lampedusa. It’s best as someone’s
Berlin.
The lawyer calling to tell you that your application has been granted, but you are no more.
