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About Hafnarfjordur

Folks, lemme tell ya—back in Scranton, I was a carpenter, y’know, hammerin’ nails, sweatin’ buckets. Built a table once—damn thing wobbled like a drunk sailor. But erotic-massage? Hoo boy, that’s a whole ‘nother beast! Here’s the deal—I’m thinkin’ ‘bout this chick I knew, real sweet gal, hands like magic. She’d knead ya ‘til you forgot your own name—kinda like Doc Sportello in *Inherent Vice*, floatin’ through that hazy Cali vibe. “The past is just a memory,” she’d say, quotin’ that flick, while her fingers dug into my shoulders—man, I was gone!