Tsitaadid raamatust «Streets of Berlin»

Broad shoulders, chests pushed out proudly. Black shiny boots and brass buttons on their coats. I paid close attention to them, as though they were guests my mother had called round for afternoon coffee. The quiet, younger one seemed uncomfortable. There was something familiar about him. I gazed at him intently, but it was more than a gaze, I was daring him to look me in the eyes. Though he was too much of a coward and stared at the other officer the entire time. He nodded his head dumbly as the