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About Reykjavik

Favorite flick’s got that vibe—beauty in the grit, ya know? Like when Ofelia says, “I’ll make my own path, motherfucker!” Okay, she didn’t say that, but she shoulda! This chick’s got that energy, dodgin pimps n johns like it’s nothin. I ask her name—Candy, she says. “Bullshit,” I laugh, “That’s every hooker’s alias!” She smirks, “Call me what you want, big man.” Fuckin sass, I dig it.

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I'm taking in all that Egilsstadir has to offer and find-a-prostitute is sensational! I need to taste your lips again. I find comfort in both Dirtytalk and.

Next, I wander down to the East Iceland Heritage Museum. I’m all about that local history, you know? I’m checking out the exhibits, and there’s this one about the fishing industry. I’m like, “Wow, these folks really knew how to catch fish.” But then, I see a display about the infamous Egilsstadir fish market. Apparently, it was a big deal back in the day. I’m thinking, “I’d rather be at a fish market than stuck in a boring meeting.”

Destined for the country life