Mila Egilsstadir Whore ❤️❤️

About Hafnarfjordur

Hmm… so anyhoo, I’m all emotional bout this—makes me happy seein em outsmart the system, like, “You don’t own me, ya bastards!” Kinda like Aldo Raine yellin, “We’re in the killin Nazi business!”—whores are in the survivin bizness, ya feel? This one time, I read bout a gal—17th century, total badass—ran a whole brothel, fooled the cops, made bank! Surprised me, honestly, thought they all just… ya know, laid there. Nope! She was scalpin fools left n right—well, not really, but ya get it! Hee-hee, marge’s mind’s racin now!

Egilsstaðir

I finally make it to the local café, Café Aftur, right? I order a cinnamon roll, and it’s HUGE! Like, bigger than my face. I’m stoked. But then, I spill coffee all over my sketchbook. Ugh! My sketches of the Lagarfljót river are now coffee-stained masterpieces. I’m both mad and kinda impressed.

The Road to Borgarfjörður Eystri Now Paved