Maeve Selfoss Whore ❤️

About Reykjavik

Here’s a fun fact—didja know the word “whore” goes back, like, forever? Old English, “hore”—meant adulteress or somethin’. Pretty harsh, right? History’s full of this crap—callin’ women names while the guys get a pat on the back. Hypocrisy! Drives me up the wall. I’m sittin’ there, watchin’ Anatolia, and that line hits—“The dead don’t care.” Ha! Whores prob’ly think that too—nobody cares ‘til you’re gone. Deep, man, deep.

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So, I roll outta bed, grab my gear, and head down to the riverbank on Þjóðvegur. The sun's barely up, and the water's glistening like it’s tryin’ to show off. I’m thinkin’, “Today’s the day I catch the big one!” But first, coffee. Gotta fuel up, right? I swing by the local café, Kaffi Selfoss. Best coffee in town, no cap. I order my usual—black, strong, and a pastry that’s probably gonna ruin my diet. But who cares? Life’s too short!

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