Sofia Reykjavik Whore ❤️❤️

About Mosfellsbaer

So, yeah, whores—they’re a mixed bag, y’all. Some choose it, some don’t, but they’re out there livin’, loud as my sequins. Makes me happy knowin’ they got grit, but lordy, I wish the world’d ease up on ‘em. “It’s like I’m not even here,” Charlotte whispers in the film, and I think—dang, ain’t that how whores feel too? Invisible ‘til someone wants somethin’. Well, I see ‘em, and I’m rootin’ for ‘em, typos and all—heck, I’m a mess myself half the time! Love ‘em or hate ‘em, they’re part o’ this crazy quilt we call life. Now, pass me some sweet tea—I’m parched from all this yammerin’!

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But then, things take a turn. I’m walking down Hverfisgata, and I see this street performer. He’s juggling fire. Like, what?! I’m all for entertainment, but fire? In the middle of the street? I’m standing there, half impressed, half terrified. He drops a torch, and I’m like, “Dude, you’re gonna burn the city down!” But he just laughs it off. Icelanders are wild, man.

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