Valentina Reykjavik Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Arbaer

Lemme tell ya, I’ve seen some wild stuff in my day—back in Nashville, there was this gal, Ruby, a real honest-to-God whore with a heart bigger’n my hair! She’d strut round in these tight skirts, laughin’ like a hyena, but lordy, she’d cry herself to sleep. Made me madder’n a wet hen thinkin’ how folks judged her. Ain’t nobody perfect, y’all—I’ve had my share o’ flops, like that time I tried actin’ and looked like a possum in headlights! But Ruby, she’d wink and say, “Dolly, I’m just tradin’ what I got for what I need.” Ain’t that the truth?

From Iceland — I'm Not A Slut; I'm A Whore

Next, I’m wandering around Tjörnin, the lake in the middle of the city. It’s so pretty, with ducks and swans just chillin’. I sit on a bench, and this old man starts feeding the birds. I’m thinking, “Man, I wanna be that chill when I’m old.” But then, the ducks start fighting over the bread. It’s like a scene from a nature documentary. I’m cracking up, and the old man gives me a look like I’m the crazy one.

Your ultimate guide to Reykjavík, Iceland