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About Hafnarfjordur

Me, I’d crawl over Mordor for a good rubdown. Gets me happy, oh yes, them fingers dancin’ on me bony back—pure bliss! Once saw this lass in a sketchy parlor, “happy ending” they whispered, and I’m like, “My precioussss, what’s the catch?” Cost me a shiny coin, but them hands? Magic! Made me mad tho, stupid hobbits next door yappin’ loud, ruinin’ me zen. “Quiet, you fools!” I hissed, nearly chucked me shoe.

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But then, things take a turn. I’m walking down Hverfisgata, and I see this street performer. He’s juggling fire. Like, what?! I’m all for entertainment, but fire? In the middle of the street? I’m standing there, half impressed, half terrified. He drops a torch, and I’m like, “Dude, you’re gonna burn the city down!” But he just laughs it off. Icelanders are wild, man.

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