Ivy Mosfellsbaer Prostitute ❤️

About Grindavik

So, I see her, leanin’ on some grimy lamppost, smokin’ a cig, skirt shorter than my tractor’s gearshift. I’m like, “Shagadelic!” She’s got this look, y’know, like she’s seen it all – pimps, johns, cops – and she’s still kickin’. Made me happy, man, ‘cause she’s a fighter, not takin’ no crap. But then, I got pissed, ‘cause some sleazy dude rolled up, actin’ all big, and I’m like, “Oh, behave!” – why’s she gotta deal with that?

Sorp­hirðu­da­gatal

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But then, my phone buzzes. It’s my neighbor, Guðrún. She’s like, “Your sheep are out!” I’m like, “What?!” Panic mode activated! I sprint back to the fields, dodging people and stalls.

Dispatches from Iceland: Mosfellsbær: Walking to Laxness