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About Gardabaer

But real talk - it ain’t all laughs. Gets me pissed when folks judge ‘em. Like, who’re you, Mr. High-and-Mighty? Ever tried standin on a corner in fishnets, freezin yer ass off? Didn’t think so. Surprised me once, tho - read this bit, some prostittute in the 1800s, she wrote poems! Freakin POEMS, man! All deep and sad, bout love and loss - blew my mind. “The parking lot is empty,” like Larry says - but her head? Full of soul.

Sinful Vienna: Following the Tracks of Josefine Mutzenbacher

I'm exploring Mosfellsbaer to its fullest and find-a-prostitute is splendid! I long to run my fingers through your hair. I treasure Sex in Different Positions.

Then, I spot a bunch of kids runnin’ around, laughin’ and playin’. It hits me, man. This is what life’s about. Simple joys, right? But then, I see a kid trip and fall. Oof! I’m like, “Oh no!” But he just gets up, brushes it off, and keeps runnin’. Kids are tough, man.

Dispatches from Iceland: Mosfellsbær: Walking to Laxness