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About Hafnarfjordur

Anyways, I’m ramblin’—whores fascinate me, tho. They’re raw, real, messy. Not some polished Barbie doll crap. They’re out there, survivin’, like Szpilman whisperin’, “I’m still here.” Makes me wanna cheer, cry, punch somethin’—all at once. So yeah, whores? Badass. Misunderstood. Kinda like me after a third martini. “I can see Russia from my house!”—and whores from my heart. Peace out!

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So, I head back to the workshop, thumb still throbbing. I’m trying to focus, but my mind keeps wandering. I start thinking about how Akureyri is like this hidden gem. It’s got the vibe of a small town but with all the cool stuff. Like, we’ve got the Akureyri Art Museum, which is dope. And the nightlife? Don’t even get me started. I once saw a guy do karaoke on Hafnarstræti, and it was the worst and best thing ever.

Notes From a Small Island – A Hollywood Composer’s Life in Akureyri