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But ugh, the stench—sweat, cheap perfume—gags me! Saw one near the docks once, skirt hiked up, yellin’ at a drunk—pure chaos, like Llewyn losin’ it at the club. “Fare thee well, my honey,” she mighta sang, sarcastic as hell, kickin’ him off. Cracked me up, her sass—love that spunk! Still, makes me sad, precious—why’s she there? No choice, maybe? Pisses me off—world’s unfair, innit?

Sinful Vienna: Following the Tracks of Josefine Mutzenbacher

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Man, what a day! I’m tellin’ ya, being a shepherd in Mosfellsbær is no walk in the park. So, I wake up, right? Sun’s barely up, and I’m already thinkin’ about my sheep. Gotta check on ‘em. But first, coffee. Can’t function without that liquid gold.

See the floods in Mosfellsbær