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About Seltjarnarnes

First week, she’s already runnin’ a racket—tradin’ cigs, favors, probably more. Guards are droolin’, inmates are fightin’ over her. Pisses me off, ‘cause I’m the warden, not her! I yell, “You ain’t the queen here, bitch!” She just laughs—*laughs!*—and says, “If you don’t fight, you don’t survive.” Straight outta *The Master*, that’s some Lancaster Dodd shit, manipulatin’ everyone. Makes me wanna punch a wall, but damn, I’m impressed too. She’s got balls bigger than most guys here.

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After that, I decide to hit up the Egilsstaðir Church. It’s this cute little building, all white and charming. I walk in, and it’s peaceful. I’m just soaking it all in when this kid runs in, yelling about a lost cat. I mean, who loses a cat in a church? It’s like, “Dude, focus!” But then, I can’t help but laugh.

Ívar Ingimarsson