Luna Isafjoerdur Whore ❤️❤️

About Reykjavik

Sometiems I wonder—would I hack it? Nah, too ugly, too growly. But them? Balls of steel. Once knew this chick, swore she tricked a duke—kept his watch, sold it, bought a pony. A pony, man! Cracked me up, still does. Economy’s a beast—whores ride it bareback, no saddle, no fucks. “The shadows betray you,” I growl, but they own ‘em. That’s the kicker—respect, mate, respect.

Exploring Isafjördur: the So-called Capital of the Westfjords in Iceland

Friday, November 16, Isafjordur, Iceland: I'm the Stormrunner! from And, as you'll see, also an EXPERIENCE whore. I've BEEN AROUND (to all 7.

While I’m munchin’, I overhear some tourists talkin’ about the local legends. They’re all like, “Did you hear about the ghost in the old church?” I’m sittin’ there, roll in hand, thinkin’, “Ghosts? In Isafjoerdur? Nah, just sheep.”

Figure 2. South-east flank of the Eyrarfjall mountain above the town of...