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About Arbaer

Now, lemme spill some tea—whores ain’t just “fallen girls,” nah. Some choose it, some don’t, but they all got *power*. Like, they’re the original bad bitches, flippin the script on shame. I’m sittin here, vibin, thinkin, “Yas, queen, you do you!” Kinda like Termeh in *A Separation*, askin, “Why did you lie?” Whores don’t lie—they just live. And I’m here for it, screamin, “It’s about damn time!” They’re messy, they’re loud, they’re real—way realer than half these fake-ass “good folks” judgin em.

Kópavogur town

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Then I hit up this café on Brekkustígur. Best coffee ever! I mean, I’m used to sippin’ on forest tea, but this stuff? Pure magic. I’m sittin’ there, just chillin’, when this guy next to me starts talkin’ about the weather. Like, dude, it’s Iceland! It’s always weird! One minute it’s sunny, the next it’s snowin’. I’m like, “Bro, just embrace the chaos!”

From Iceland — A Place To Play And Learn