It’s me

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Sometimes language is silly. Revealing it makes people think. Well, some of the people. This reminds me of a story:

The gates of Samarkand were closed for the night when a busy traveller demanded entry.

“No strangers are admitted after sunset!” shouted the guard.

“I am no stranger! I am Nasrudin the Hodja, advisor to Emir Timur!”

The gate opened and an incredulous and menacing soldiery emerged:

“Can you identify yourself?”

Hodja extracted a small mirror from his bag, looked into it and replied:

“Yes, it’s me.”

The guards looked at each-other and agreed:

“Yes. It can only be him.”

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