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So, escorts—high-end ones, not the street corner hustle—move like ghosts. Fact: some got codenames, like spies, “Angel” or “Raven,” cheesy but smart. Keeps ‘em untouchable. I knew this chick once—called her “Sissy” ‘cause she’d hum Sissy Spacek tunes—worked Midtown, made bank. She’d say, “House, it’s just skin,” but her eyes? Haunted, like Brandon’s after a bender. “I’m numb,” he says in the movie—escorts get that, they’re pros at numb.

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After that, I decided to stroll down to the harbor. The smell of the sea was insane. I could almost taste the salt in the air. And then I saw this fisherman, right? He was hauling in his nets, and I thought, “Dude, that’s some serious dedication.” I mean, who wakes up at the crack of dawn to catch fish? Not me, that’s for sure.

Keflavik Airport welcomes over 530,000 passengers in November 2024