5
" Who am I? They often tell me I would step from my cell's confinement calmly, cheerfully, firmly, like a squire from his country-house.
Who am I? They often tell me I would talk to my warden freely and friendly and clearly, as though it were mine to command.
Who am I? They also tell me I would bear the days of misfortune equably, smilingly, proudly, like one accustomed to win.
Am I then really all that which other men tell of, or am I only what I know of myself, restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage, struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat, yearning for colors, for flowers, for the voices of birds, thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness, trembling with anger at despotisms and petty humiliation, tossing in expectation of great events, powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance, weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making, faint and ready to say farewell to it all.
Who am I? This or the other? Am I one person today, and tomorrow another? Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others, and before myself a contemptibly woebegone weakling? Or is something within me still like a beaten army, fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?
Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.
Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am thine! "
― Dietrich Bonhoeffer , Prison Poems
13
" The traffic warden looked up. " This your car?" " It is," said Skulduggery. The traffic warden nodded. " Very nice, very nice. But you can't park here, day or night." " I wasn't aware of that." " There's a sign right over there." " I didn't think it applied to me." " Why wouldn't it have applied to you?" Skulduggery tilted his head. " Because I'm special." " Don't care how special you think you are, you're parked in a no parking area and as such you're---" " We're here on official police business." The traffic warden narrowed his eyes. " You're Garda? I'm going to need to see some identification." " We're undercover," said Skulduggery. " This is a very important undercover operation which you are endangering just by talking to us." He opened his jacket. " Look, I have a gun. I am Detective Inspector Me. This is my partner, Detective Her." The traffic warden frowned. " Her?" " Me," said Stephanie. " Him?" " Not me," said Skulduggery. " Her." " Me," said Stephanie. " You?" said the traffic warden. " Yes," said Stephanie. " I" m sorry, who are you?" Stephanie looked at him. " I'm Her, he's Me. Got it? Good. You better get out of here before you blow our cover. They've got snipers. "
