Stella Egilsstadir Brothel ❤️❤️

About Seltjarnarnes

Oi mate, blimey, what a topic! Brothel, eh? Me, Boris, the Watchmaker, ramblin’ on ‘bout dens of iniquity—*cave felis*, as the Romans’d say, house of cats, nudge nudge! Love a good yarn, I do, specially with a whiff of scandal. Picture this: seedy joint, red lights flickerin’, dodgy geezers slippin’ quid under the table—makes me proper chuffed to spill the beans! Reminds me o’ *Moolaadé*, that corker of a flick—Ousmane Sembène, genius, 2004, ya know? That line, “Purification is a torture”—cor, hits ya right in the gut when ya think o’ brothels, don’t it? Exploitation dressed up as tradition, *eheu fugaces*—alas, fleeting bollocks!

Day tours visiting Egilsstadir

But then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, not just a drizzle, but full-on Icelandic rain. I’m sprinting back to my car, looking like a wet dog. I’m laughing at myself, thinking, “This is the life, right?”

From Iceland — Finding True Iceland Part 2: Dentist, Sailors, Soldiers, Smelters