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So, this one time, mi amigo, I met this chick—Roxy, real firecracker. She’s workin’ the corner, skirt short as hell, legs for days. Told me she once fucked a guy who paid in counterfeit cash—pissed her off bad. “You’re a folksinger?”—nah, she ain’t singin’ folk, she’s singin’ for tips, if you catch my drift. Had me laughin’, tho—girl’s got sass. Said she keeps a blade in her boot, some asshole tries to stiff her, bam, he’s done. Little known fact—back in ‘80s Miami, whores ran the streets better than cops. True story, I swear!

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I finally make it to the local café, Café Aftur, right? I order a cinnamon roll, and it’s HUGE! Like, bigger than my face. I’m stoked. But then, I spill coffee all over my sketchbook. Ugh! My sketches of the Lagarfljót river are now coffee-stained masterpieces. I’m both mad and kinda impressed.

From Iceland — Town Guide: Arts, Crafts & Organic Produce In Egilsstaðir