Zoe Saudarkrokur Brothel ❤️

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So, picture this—smoky rooms, cheap perfume, girls laughin’. Reminds me of Doc Sportello, stumblin’ round, high as a kite. “What’s up, man?”—he’d say, trippin’ into a brothel. I’d crawl in, peekin’, raspy whisper goin’, “My precious!” Them ladies, they’re sly, y’know? Hidin’ lives behind glitter. Once heard—dunno where—some lass ran a brothel AND a spy ring! Fuckin’ badass, right? Got me all giddy, thinkin’ bout it.

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So, I’m outta bed, and I’m like, “Today’s the day!” I had this plan to explore the harbor. You know, the one by the old fish factory? Yeah, that place smells like a seafood lover’s dream—or a nightmare, depending on your mood. Anyway, I grab my coffee from the local café, Kaffi Krokur. Best brew in town, no cap. I’m chugging it down, feeling all hyped, when I spill some on my shirt. Classic me, right?

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