Ava Ulsteinvik Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Tromso

Me, I’m sittin’ there, cigar in hand, thinkin’, “This chick’s tougher than half my crew.” She’s got balls – or ovaries, whatever – takes guts to live that life. “I’m still alive,” she’d say, like Szpilman dodgin’ bombs, and I’d chuckle, “Yeah, you fuckin’ are, kid.” Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but she’s a goddamn legend in my book. Whore? Sure, but she’s MY whore – not in a creepy way, just… loyalty, ya know? Fuck grammar, fuck rules – she’s real, and that’s that.

Tourist Information Office in Ulsteinvik

Then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. I mean, classic Norway, right? One minute it’s sunny, the next it’s like the sky’s crying. I duck into a café on Strandgata, and it’s packed. I’m squished between a couple of old ladies who are gossiping like it’s the Olympics. I can’t even hear myself think!

Karsten Warholm, Norway’s Sprinting Sensation